Lambert forbids Jaskier from touching the white gull, which of course makes Jaskier want to try it even more. He does manage to steal a glass when the witchers are arguing over who is the real cheater here, but he regrets it a soon as he sniffs it: it makes him dizzy for a few seconds.
Right. Lesson fucking learned, thank you.
It's a very pleasant evening, Jaskier must admit. Calm (which yes he can do, thank you!), relaxed, cozy. He plays and sings for the witchers while they play (and read), laughing at their sibling squabbles and proudly congratulating Cirilla when she manages to win a hand or pull Lambert's tricks successfully. It's a cute little family, and while the circumstances that brought them here aren't exactly the best, Jaskier is glad they have each other - glad they've accepted him in it as well.
Thousand of ballads he'll write about them, Jaskier swears to himself on the spot, and the Continent shall never insult them again.
Cirilla, bless her young soul, starts nodding off soon after Jaskier finally plays the song about her parents' betrothal and it's Vesemir that offers to take her back to her room since he decides it's time for him to go to bed as well. And as soon as he's out of sight, Jaskier can tell the mood of the room instantly shifts - it's not like the witchers were tense before (they weren't) but there's always an obvious wave of restfulness among the "younger" people when an authority figure leaves them alone. It reminds Jaskier of evenings spent in Oxenfurt with fellow students (and eventually fellow teachers) sneaking around once the headmaster was gone.
And that gives Jaskier an idea.
"My dear witchers, how about a little game?" He asks after putting his lute back in its case and pouring himself more vodka. "Ever heard of Never have I ever?"
Lambert laughs, but the others look clueless, so Jaskier proceeds to quickly explain the rules.
"What do you think?"
"You really think you can outdrink *us*, bard?" Lambert asks back.
"Oh, could I?" Jaskier grins. "Never have I ever killed a drowner."
The witchers' faces and cursing that follows are music to his ears.
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Right. Lesson fucking learned, thank you.
It's a very pleasant evening, Jaskier must admit. Calm (which yes he can do, thank you!), relaxed, cozy. He plays and sings for the witchers while they play (and read), laughing at their sibling squabbles and proudly congratulating Cirilla when she manages to win a hand or pull Lambert's tricks successfully. It's a cute little family, and while the circumstances that brought them here aren't exactly the best, Jaskier is glad they have each other - glad they've accepted him in it as well.
Thousand of ballads he'll write about them, Jaskier swears to himself on the spot, and the Continent shall never insult them again.
Cirilla, bless her young soul, starts nodding off soon after Jaskier finally plays the song about her parents' betrothal and it's Vesemir that offers to take her back to her room since he decides it's time for him to go to bed as well. And as soon as he's out of sight, Jaskier can tell the mood of the room instantly shifts - it's not like the witchers were tense before (they weren't) but there's always an obvious wave of restfulness among the "younger" people when an authority figure leaves them alone. It reminds Jaskier of evenings spent in Oxenfurt with fellow students (and eventually fellow teachers) sneaking around once the headmaster was gone.
And that gives Jaskier an idea.
"My dear witchers, how about a little game?" He asks after putting his lute back in its case and pouring himself more vodka. "Ever heard of Never have I ever?"
Lambert laughs, but the others look clueless, so Jaskier proceeds to quickly explain the rules.
"What do you think?"
"You really think you can outdrink *us*, bard?" Lambert asks back.
"Oh, could I?" Jaskier grins. "Never have I ever killed a drowner."
The witchers' faces and cursing that follows are music to his ears.