chapter 3 of puppetskier is live! Jaskier had gotten pretty torn up in the last chapter so now he's getting sewn up by Shani and resumes an academic slapfight with his frenemy Mortimer.
snippet:
Inside, the office gave Jaskier the impression he was walking into an auction house built inside a cave, but it was a cave with a decent view of the Pontar, with a set of narrow bay windows facing the river that let in the sunlight.
Shani hesitated in the doorway and shifted Jaskier to the crook of her arm. “I really hope he’s here after all that walking,” she said.
“Mortimer?” Jaskier called, trying to prepare himself for the conversation he was about to very calmly have.
The room was larger than Jaskier’s university office by a good margin, and he wasn’t pleased by that realization. Sure, the room was a little dreary the further away you got from the windows, but Mortimer had lanterns hanging from the ceiling that made up for it. There were also bookshelves that were mounted on wheels and could be pushed out of the way. Strange, rust-colored crystal plants appeared to be growing out of the bookshelves.
“Professor? Professor Meinbald?” Shani called. She almost dropped Jaskier when she turned a corner and almost walked into a large bird.
“The fuck!” she yelped. “What is that?”
Jaskier looked over the bird, wracking his brain. “An ostrich?” he mused. He’d seen one ages ago in Toussaint. It looked dead, but it was a rather impressive display of taxidermy, if not a little weird. The bird wore a heavy chain necklace and its eyes were a bright, unnatural azure.
“It’s an emu,” Mortimer said from behind them. Shani tightened her arm around Jaskier and turned to face Mortimer.
“If you’re lost, here’s a map to help you get back—and mind the instructions to stay away from the purple door. The university’s budget for compensating student injuries on campus has decreased year after year since Vizimir ascended the throne. If you’re here to fulfill the requirements of a prank or student hazing, I will endow you with a skin pigmentation curse that will break once you snap this,” Mortimer said, holding out an embossed coin made of–wait, was that a cracker? “If you need something of value to sell, there’s a shelf behind the front door full of items safe enough for you to take. Good on you for making it here in one piece, please leave.”
Mortimer sounded tired and annoyed, looking just like the last time Jaskier had faced off with him. Mortimer Meinbald was broad-shouldered and heavyset, his hair pulled back into a tight braid. His black and grey beard was as unkempt as ever, and probably hiding more turgid research that would annoy the fuck out of Jaskier.
“How pragmatic of you, Morty,” Jaskier said. Mortimer’s eyebrows arched slightly, refocusing on Jaskier now instead of Shani.
“We need your help,” Shani said and Jaskier waved a hand to shush her, drawing even more interest from Mortimer.
“It’s Julian Pankratz, and I know you’ve got two eyes that can see that I’ve been cursed. I’m on a bit of a deadline here and would appreciate your help in getting me back in tip-top shape,” Jaskier said.
“Are you a—” Mortimer began and Jaskier held up a small hand to stop him.
“Yes, I’m a fucking puppet. I need to break this curse and get back into my body right now,” he said, trying not to flail in desperation. He was desperate, but he had to convince Mortimer to help him first.
“I see,” Mortimer said, looking too fucking amused. “This is a rather lackluster practical joke, as far as those go.”
“Oh, I have far better jokes when it comes to you, Morty,” Jaskier said warningly.
“Always a class act, Julian,” Mortimer said dismissively and Jaskier seethed, like Mortimer wasn’t the one to–
“Be nice,” Shani said quietly, patting Jaskier encouragingly. She lifted Jaskier up a little, making sure Jaskier was level with Mortimer’s eyes. Shani was perceptive and thoughtful like that.
Jaskier tried to remind himself why he was really here. He’d been abducted, trampled, and attacked. There was no way he would go begging for Philippa’s help. He couldn’t face Dijkstra like this. Mortifying as it was asking Mortimer for help, this was what Jaskier needed to do.
“I wouldn’t have come to you if it wasn’t serious,” Jaskier said. “We go back a long time, you and I. I’ve helped you before.”
Mortimer snorted and returned a book to a shelf. “I see you’re still excellent at revising history.”
“Revising history? Revising? Ooh, that’s rich coming from you,” Jaskier said, his ire and frustration bubbling back to the surface. Maybe he should go to Philippa after all.
Mortimer chuckled and shook his head. “Despite whatever happened to you now,” he said, gesturing at Jaskier’s current puppet state, “you’ll never change.”
read Coin Operated Boy on ao3
