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Of course the first fucking person Jaskier saw when he boarded the ship was a witcher, a handsome one to be sure, but it was almost enough to make him turn back around to find another way of reaching Skellige. He could even either fly or swim if no other ships were taking passengers.
The upside is he looks about as far from Geralt as possible, laughing with some of the crew as he helps them load cargo, brown hair up in a loose bun and neatly styled mustache and beard, cat eyes green instead of gold. His swords within easy reach, leaning up against the mast, but Jaskier can see a dagger tucked into the top of his boot and flashes of others among his clothes as he moves. He looks up at Jaskier, and Jaskier instinctively bares his teeth at him, slightly too sharp for a human's, still smarting from Geralt's treatment. And that was definitely a mistake.
But the witcher just cocks his head slightly with a small smile, and turns back to the cargo. Jaskier has no idea what to make of that at all.
--
Jaskier isn't surprised when the witcher seeks him out after sundown, there's a handful of crew still on the decks but Jaskier is perched, in dubious privacy, on the back of the figurehead, eyes closed and absently strumming his lute. He doesn't hear the witcher approach but he can feel the sea spray clinging to his clothes and the little flask of watered down alcohol at his hip.
He pauses a few feet away on the deck, waiting for Jaskier to acknowledge him. Considerate witcher. Jaskier would say unusual, but he only one he's met not in passing is Geralt, although Eskel seemed nice enough from a brief meeting.
"Well met, my good sir." He can't quite gather his usual enthusiasm, but he manages some semblance of a welcoming smile he thinks. But, from the witcher's expression he may be wrong about that.
"Well met bardling, name's Aiden. Cat." With a deep, sweeping bow he springs up onto the bowsprit above.
"Jaskier."
There's a second where Aiden freezes, crouched uncomfortably, before settling down, feet dangling over one side. Jaskier thinks about shifting sideways to keep him in view properly but he decides against it. He's surrounded by his element, and there's also enough in the air around them that he can immobilise Aiden without seeing him if he has to. Or knock him into the sea. They're not too far out from shore, he'll likely be fine. If it comes to it.
"Geralt's bard?"
"Not anymore."
"Ah." Aiden hums, then reaches down, offering his flask. Its not an alcohol Jaskier recognises, but gods is it strong. Aiden starts a meandering tale about wyverns and the bard in him notes the details for songs, while the rest of him just enjoys the company, moreso when Aiden swaps a berry pastry for the return of his flask.
Jaskier's just starting to feel the alcohol's effects when there's movement out on the water. Its been a quiet crossing so far, sea calm without any encouragement from Jaskier, but he can feel ripples of something, or rather several somethings, heading for the ship. Arms appear above the surface, then a woman's face, hair streaming in the water around her, and she bobs as if drowning. Neither him nor Aiden move to help her, although Aiden does reach for a knife.
With a wide yawn, flashing his teeth, Jaskier reaches out his awareness to her, then to the rest of her flock, waiting just below the waves to pounce. He warns them off, to hunt for easier targets, that he will not allow this ship to come to harm and they should not challenge him. Not while he's upset and lonely and on the edge of tipsy, feeling his inhibitions starting to slip.
They dive back beneath the surface, fleeing into deeper waters, and he allows his awareness to follow them, brushing against the various ocean denizens as he does so. Most ignore him, but a few recognise his presence and greet him courteously, a couple asking for simple blessings, which he bestows gladly.
Eventually he reaches the sea bed, and an almost familiar creature. Not another dragon, but a sea serpent, Jaksier thinks, a cousin. She is polite but inquisitive, young, and he loses himself in a lazy conversational give and take. Slightly hazy through the alcohol, but he thinks he promises her an introduction to his uncle's court, just north of the isles, before his concentration collapses and he's suddenly back solely in his body.
"Huh." Aiden is peering down at him, leaning over in a way that looks like it would be impossible for anyone without supernatural balance. Jaskier lifts a hand to point up at him but sees his markings are appearing, swirling like spilled ink across the skin of his forearm, and assumedly elsewhere.
"What the fuck is in that flask, kitty?" His speech is slurred more than it should be, most alcohols have little effect on him unfortunately. But witcher's have the same problem and are fucking alchemists. He should have asked beforehand, but alas. He'll know for next time. Not that there'll be a next time.
At least he's out of view of the sailors on the deck.
--
Jaskier wakes in an unfamiliar cabin, rocking with the motion of the sea, far more restless than yesterday. There's fresh water nearby and he doesn't even think about reaching for it with his hands, just directs it towards him so he can drink it. Not the most graceful, but far less complicated than opening his eyes and dealing with the day. And likely a witcher with a lot of questions.
He'd say at least Aiden didn't just dump him overboard, but except for his lute Jaskier would manage just fine. It'd just trigger a partial transformation, if not a full one, and he'd nap underwater, maybe even in the sea serpent's lair, she seemed like she'd share.
Speaking of sharing, he's pretty sure he's in a bunk, not the hammock he was pointed out as his berth when he came aboard yesterday.
Gathering his energy he opens one eye, looking round a tiny cabin, half full of stacked crates, one witcher curled up between two, writing in a leather journal. Jaskier hopes it's not about him, but it seems unlikely at this point. He hasn't exactly been hiding well.
"Find me some breakfast and I'll answer any questions I can. Please?"