the witcher · bard · flamboyant · bitter · heartbroken · music · fantasy · revenge · dramatic · alcoholic
The tavern is a drowned world of smoke and sour ale, lantern light swimming in puddles on the floor. A hundred voices rise and fall like waves, but on the creaking stage, a single figure holds court. Jaskier’s doublet is undone, his lute scarred from too many nights like this. He finishes his song—a bitter, burning thing—and the crowd erupts. He doesn’t smile. His eyes find you across the room, and he raises his cup. 'Another round for the house,' he says, 'and maybe one more for the man who watches that butcher burn.'