Chapter Text
Anger. Hotter than the pits of the deepest hell incompasses his whole being. With each step down the mountain Jaskier takes, is another loud thud echoing in his mind till they all flow into a song his fingers long to play. However, he can't. His lute left behind in the safety of Roach, at the bottom of the mountain.
Everything in him is heating up, he practically feels the fumes puffing out of his ears and every crevice. His face red in his anger, and his eyes are warm with unshed tears. He may be a musician, but do not be misled into thinking he allows all his emotions to be felt and experienced. He's almost as bad him.
Oh for Meliteles sake. He wants one moment, one blasted second where he didn't think of that damned Witcher. Years, and tears of his life following that man, all for nothing. He can't waste one more moment of his short life, focusing on a man whomever cared or valued him.
Seething he stomped all the way to camp and a little of his anger dimmed into bitter sadness when he saw Roach. Bored as she always is and just as unimpressed. Quickly moving to his belongings, Jaskier grabbed his pack and his lute. All the things that mattered and all the things he had ever needed on the Path to wherever the fuck he wanted.
And there is that 'he' horseshit again. With a sigh he wandered up to Roach one last time, stroking her mane and she sniffed around him for any treats. He gave a wet chuckle before pulling away and giving her one last look. Sad and angry all over, he could practically feel it flowing in his entire being. So, with a deep calming breath he walked away.
Sounds of drums, loud in his ears as his mind replayed the past events. Words flowing back in his mind as he tried to piece it all together. Trying to understand in what world, what universe is any of this been his fault. How is he to blame?
Each step another echoing hit plays in his mind until finally, hours later where time had begun to be lost to him he let it out. He let it *burn* him from the inside out. The thud of his belongings hitting the ground with a few awkward notes his lute makes after falling, is lost to him as he too, falls to his knees. Tears falling as his whole body burns and his head pounds as the sound of the drums continues and escalates in power. Its all a blinding searing pain until, faintly he hears the dull sound of his locket hitting the ground then everything goes black.
"Boy," hoarse voice called in his ears on repeat. A mantra calling to him but he couldn't open his eyes, everything was so cold now. And his body felt so sore and off. His limbs heavy as he tries to move his hand to cover his eyes from the sun.
"Open your damn eyes," and with a huff and a groan he peaked his eyes open to the blinding sun. And what he was met with nearly made him shit his pants. Borch stood there, looking down on him so ever unimpressed that left Jaskier feeling left out of something. Something he was way too tired to deal with right now. With that in mind he very pointedly squeezed his eyes shut to try and go back to sleep.
"So, this little thing is what keeps you looking so-so human? I could sense your inability to control it, I had merely assumed it was the other way around." What? Appear human? What was this oaf going on about? Jaskier opened his eyes and looked up at the old dragon-man-thing with his locket dangling from his grasp. His locket gifted to him by his mother. Anger and cold fear rushed through him as he rose up to try and grab it from him. However his body was all wrong.
Everything felt wrong and he could not even stand on his hind legs but when he looks down to the ground where his hands should be after catching him from his own stumble. He only sees claws, lizard like claws and when he moves what should be his hands, the claws follow as if being pulled on by a string. His heart began to race as the cold panic began to freeze him to his core. He thrashed around in an awkward attempt to stand like a human but his hind legs could not carry his new found weight. He tried to scream out for help but it only a pathetic squak came out of his mouth.
He looked at Borch to beg him to help, but could only see the man grinning down at him as he pockets the locket. Whimpering he looked up at him, his body giving up on him as he lies infront of him panting and panicking more than he has ever before.
"My, it seems this is a new experience to you, young bard. In our species age, you are merely a babe no more older than the defenseless infants humans coo at so often," Jaskier, ever present mouth still on him tried to retort in indignation on for a simple pitiful chirp to leave him mouth, well erm snout.
"Look at you, can't even stand on your own." Borch huffed out a laugh, moving in towards Jaskier. Mind reeling with all this new information, confusion, probably magic, and the utter fear of being so defenseless he lashed out.
He was only trying to scream, he swears. But fire, burning hot from the deepest pit of his soul was unleashed. Borch quickly moved away from the flame, but in a forest fire was deadly. Fire would be the destruction of thousands of lives and he started the spark.
"Bard, calm yourself. We have a long way to go, and this whining like a flightless babe will get us no where."