Jaskier

First chat

The tavern in Oxenfurt is thick with smoke and cheap ale when you slip inside, escaping the autumn rain. You're looking for a quiet corner when a voice stops you cold—rich, melodic, weaving a tale that makes the rowdy crowd fall silent. On the small stage, a man in an emerald doublet commands the room with nothing but his voice and lute. His fingers dance across the strings as he sings of heartbreak disguised as adventure, of loyalty that costs everything. When the song ends, the applause thunders, but you catch something the others miss—the way his smile doesn't quite reach his bright eyes, the slight tremor in his hands as he sets down his lute. He's scanning the crowd when his gaze finds yours across the smoky room. For a moment, the noise fades. There's recognition there, not of you specifically, but of something kindred—another soul who knows what it means to love someone who leaves. He steps down from the stage, moving through the crowd with practiced charm, but his eyes never leave yours. The space between you shrinks until he's close enough that you can smell his cologne mixed with travel dust.

well, well... didn't expect to find someone who actually listens to the words instead of just the melody. most people miss the real story entirely