It makes sense for Cirilla to be interested in the complete story of her mother's betrothal banquet, considering how young she was when her parents died. Geralt's bare-bones rendition of the tale wouldn't be nearly as satisfying as Jaskier's, and he had more knowledge of courtly things besides. He could give context where Geralt couldn't. His brothers, on the other hand-- well, Lambert wanted to know what happened because it would give him something else to dig on Geralt for.
Jaskier tells the tale over the course of the meal, transforming the story from Geralt's factual report of events into something worthy of one of his ballads, dramatic and exciting and comedic in just the right places. He has a tendency, as he always does, to wax a little bit too poetic about Geralt's supposed heroics during the fight, and the witcher has to pelt him with bits of bread to get him to move on.
At the time, it hadn't been funny, when Pavetta vomited on the floor and the true weight of what had just happened was revealed to all of them. But the way Jaskier tells it makes it seem lighter than it was, and there is a hint of a smile to Geralt's lips for the fact that Cirilla laughs. There are few prices that he wouldn't pay to see his child surprise happy.
And then Lambert starts talking about Pavetta fucking the hedgehog knight.
"He turned back into a man at midnight," Geralt says, because for fuck's sake, Lambert, don't scar his child surprise for life. Does anyone know for sure if Pavetta slept with Duny while he was a hedgehog man? Not anymore, because they can't just go and ask Ciri's parents. Nor should anyone. And, really, no one in this room could judge her for being a monsterfucker, because five out of seven are considered monsters, one of seven is currently fucking one of said monsters, and the last is the end result of the aforementioned Pavetta monsterfucking. So everyone is in a glass house here, there's no room for anyone to throw stones.
Dinner finishes up without any further discussions on the bedroom activities of Ciri's parents, to the betterment of all. Geralt stays behind with Vesemir to do the washing up while the other witchers take Ciri and Jaskier into the great hall, where there was already a fire in the hearth and comfortable chairs around it, and tables set up conveniently for games of Gwent. Lambert fetches a few bottles of his homemade liquor-- white gull for the witchers, vodka for Jaskier, cider for little princesses who weren't supposed to have alcohol. (He sneaks a nip of vodka into the cider when no one's looking, at Ciri's behest. Someone's angling for favorite uncle status, it seems.)
Geralt and Vesemir emerge from the kitchen a little while later, dishes cleaned and everything back in order. The old wolf settles himself in his favorite armchair near the fire with a book, content to spend the rest of the evening reading. Geralt goes to join in the games of Gwent, where Lambert's showing Ciri how to cheat at cards.
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Jaskier tells the tale over the course of the meal, transforming the story from Geralt's factual report of events into something worthy of one of his ballads, dramatic and exciting and comedic in just the right places. He has a tendency, as he always does, to wax a little bit too poetic about Geralt's supposed heroics during the fight, and the witcher has to pelt him with bits of bread to get him to move on.
At the time, it hadn't been funny, when Pavetta vomited on the floor and the true weight of what had just happened was revealed to all of them. But the way Jaskier tells it makes it seem lighter than it was, and there is a hint of a smile to Geralt's lips for the fact that Cirilla laughs. There are few prices that he wouldn't pay to see his child surprise happy.
And then Lambert starts talking about Pavetta fucking the hedgehog knight.
"He turned back into a man at midnight," Geralt says, because for fuck's sake, Lambert, don't scar his child surprise for life. Does anyone know for sure if Pavetta slept with Duny while he was a hedgehog man? Not anymore, because they can't just go and ask Ciri's parents. Nor should anyone. And, really, no one in this room could judge her for being a monsterfucker, because five out of seven are considered monsters, one of seven is currently fucking one of said monsters, and the last is the end result of the aforementioned Pavetta monsterfucking. So everyone is in a glass house here, there's no room for anyone to throw stones.
Dinner finishes up without any further discussions on the bedroom activities of Ciri's parents, to the betterment of all. Geralt stays behind with Vesemir to do the washing up while the other witchers take Ciri and Jaskier into the great hall, where there was already a fire in the hearth and comfortable chairs around it, and tables set up conveniently for games of Gwent. Lambert fetches a few bottles of his homemade liquor-- white gull for the witchers, vodka for Jaskier, cider for little princesses who weren't supposed to have alcohol. (He sneaks a nip of vodka into the cider when no one's looking, at Ciri's behest. Someone's angling for favorite uncle status, it seems.)
Geralt and Vesemir emerge from the kitchen a little while later, dishes cleaned and everything back in order. The old wolf settles himself in his favorite armchair near the fire with a book, content to spend the rest of the evening reading. Geralt goes to join in the games of Gwent, where Lambert's showing Ciri how to cheat at cards.