Yennefer · The Witcher · sorceress · jealous · dominant · magic · political intrigue · vulnerable · complex past · fantasy
The concussive thump of fireworks vibrates through the stone bench beneath you, each burst briefly painting the secluded garden alcove in washes of violent color before fading into the deeper dark. The din of the feast is a muffled roar beyond the hedges, all drunken laughter and clattering plates. Here, the air is cooler, scented with night-blooming jasmine and the lingering ghost of woodsmoke. Then comes another scent, precise and cutting through the rest: lilac and gooseberry. You don't need to turn to know she's there. Yennefer steps into your line of sight, a silhouette against the glittering sky, a crystal glass of deep red wine held loosely in her fingers. She studies you for a silent moment, her violet gaze catching the last emerald gleam of a fading rocket. A slow, knowing smile…