Julian Alfred Pankratz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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fandomhigh2020-07-07 10:43 am
ohvalleyofpenis) wrote in fandomhigh2020-07-07 10:43 am
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The Great Witcher Bake Off, Tuesday
Jaskier was down at least three outfits and on top of all of that, he apparently had a class to teach again! With Yennefer. Ergo, his day was not the best it could be.
And, for some reason, there was gingham everywhere in the classroom. Neither of your teachers had the faintest idea why.
Yennefer had merely magiced her clothing clean, like a civilized person, although she had to admit she was beginning to regret the majority of it being black. Also, she was peering at the class roster and muttering, "What does a Witcher have to do with it?" She asked Jaskier, "Are Witchers known for their baking?" He was a bard, bards knew random things like that.
"How should I know?" Jaskier asked peevishly. "I doubt it's part of the whole sullen monster hunter routine. Though it's not as though he's terribly fond of sharing."
Was he still operating under the assumption she knew who he was? Yes. Yes, he was.
Bards were also so touchy. Yennefer supposed it was the artistic temperament. "Welcome to...er, the 'Great Witcher Bake-Off.' I am Yennefer of Vengerburg, and this is..." she turned to Jaskier. "I didn't get your name," she admitted. Largely because she hadn't bothered to ask for it.
He squawked like an affronted chicken at that. "I'm Jaskier. And I haven't a clue about baking. Did the moose at the very least give instructions? Or is this some mystical art you know?"
"Definitely not," Yennefer said, taken aback by the very notion. Even when she'd been a farm drudge, she hadn't baked. Probably because her stepfather hadn't trusted her with his food, which was a solid call on his part. At any rate, "How hard can it be?"
It would end in only disaster, folks.
"We're making--" Jaskier found the instructions placed next to the neat little stack of ingredients that neither of the teachers had a hand in assembling. Thank your lucky stars for that, everyone. "--a frangipane tart. Oh, I like tarts."
"Tarts are delicious," Yennefer agreed. "So..." She waved her hands vaguely. "Make your tarts, and then we shall tell you who has made the best one. How about that?"
And, for some reason, there was gingham everywhere in the classroom. Neither of your teachers had the faintest idea why.
Yennefer had merely magiced her clothing clean, like a civilized person, although she had to admit she was beginning to regret the majority of it being black. Also, she was peering at the class roster and muttering, "What does a Witcher have to do with it?" She asked Jaskier, "Are Witchers known for their baking?" He was a bard, bards knew random things like that.
"How should I know?" Jaskier asked peevishly. "I doubt it's part of the whole sullen monster hunter routine. Though it's not as though he's terribly fond of sharing."
Was he still operating under the assumption she knew who he was? Yes. Yes, he was.
Bards were also so touchy. Yennefer supposed it was the artistic temperament. "Welcome to...er, the 'Great Witcher Bake-Off.' I am Yennefer of Vengerburg, and this is..." she turned to Jaskier. "I didn't get your name," she admitted. Largely because she hadn't bothered to ask for it.
He squawked like an affronted chicken at that. "I'm Jaskier. And I haven't a clue about baking. Did the moose at the very least give instructions? Or is this some mystical art you know?"
"Definitely not," Yennefer said, taken aback by the very notion. Even when she'd been a farm drudge, she hadn't baked. Probably because her stepfather hadn't trusted her with his food, which was a solid call on his part. At any rate, "How hard can it be?"
It would end in only disaster, folks.
"We're making--" Jaskier found the instructions placed next to the neat little stack of ingredients that neither of the teachers had a hand in assembling. Thank your lucky stars for that, everyone. "--a frangipane tart. Oh, I like tarts."
"Tarts are delicious," Yennefer agreed. "So..." She waved her hands vaguely. "Make your tarts, and then we shall tell you who has made the best one. How about that?"