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.
With Vesemir and Cirilla in bed, the rest of the witchers could relax-- they no longer had to be on their best behavior, or what passed for it, with their mentor and a child around. They could talk about things that they'd never speak of in front of Vesemir or Ciri, swap stories about hunts gone awry that would make their former teacher want to give them remedial lessons and sordid brothel tales that even a girl with a Skelligan grandfather shouldn't hear. (The latter had something of a practical purpose, too-- it's good to know which brothels are willing to host a witcher, even if you aren't going on a three-day binge of debauchery.)
Jaskier, however, has an idea for a game. Or, anyway, knows of one that goes well with drinking, and the rules for it are simple enough. He starts off strong, of course, picking a question that he knows very well will get all four of his witcher companions to drink. There is some mild grumbling about such a low blow, but all of them drink. Eskel is next on the go-around, gestures at Jaskier with his handful of cards.
"You should be careful, bard. You're easy to target, too." He puts down a card that makes Lambert curse, and says, "Never have I ever played a lute."
That will obviously catch Jaskier, and surprisingly, Coën too. The Griffin only shrugs in response, and just says, "I didn't play it well."
It's the Griffin's turn next, and he thinks about his question for a moment, watching Lambert try to recover in his card game. "Never have I ever... been eaten by a selkiemore."
"Gods willing you never will," Geralt says, and takes a drink. "Fucking reeks."
Thankfully, there aren't very many contracts ever put out to deal with selkiemore, since they're rare and, technically, not even carnivorous. If they ever swallow a person, it's usually on on accident, the poor soul just getting swept up into its maw while it trawls the water for plankton. Makes its guts reek something foul, though.
Lambert's up next, and considering that his game of gwent's going poorly, getting Eskel drunk might be the only way that he wins. "Never have I ever fucked a succubus," he says, and Eskel's the only one that takes a drink.
"A succubus?" Geralt says, eyebrows rising towards his hairline. Eskel grins and shrugs, apparently perfectly willing to leave the story there and let everyone wonder about it. Though Geralt's sure that he could get it out of him later, once he's good and sloshed; Eskel never holds out on out him for long.
Then it's Geralt's turn. "Hm. I've never... taught at Oxenfurt."
Jaskier rolls his eyes at Eskel, but drinks as he should.
"A target!" He exclaims with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You're going to lose this game pathetically if you pick a target! The strategic key is finding the common denominator and--" And just like that, he goes from gamesplaining Eskel to beaming at Coën. "You WHAT! How come you didn't tell me!"
Silly witchers, always keeping the best details to themselves. Since the selkiemore thing doesn't apply to him, he takes that opportunity to shower Coën with questions about his lute playing, but Jaskier gets sidetracked again at the mention of sex with a succubus. Look, it's not his fault there are so many interesting tales being told at the same time, alright? This is why he likes this game so much in the first place.
"Fucked a succubus!" He says with a delighted gasp, eyes widening and sparkling with curiosity. "You can actually do that and survive? Or was it a witcher thing? Was it good? Would you do it again? What about an incubus? Eskel, don't give me that look, I need to hear the whole--"
Wait, never mind, time to indignantly gasp at Geralt with a hand on his chest. He's hurt, Geralt. HURT!
"You dare to target your beloved! This is harassing! Harassing I say!" Eskel is chuckling, and since he was the one to start the whole targeting deal, Jaskier glares at him and back at Geralt before saying, "Never have I ever asked for the Law of Surprise!"
An effective way to get Geralt and Eskel both, Jaskier thinks, considering the current company of Cirilla and Scorpion. What Jaskier doesn't see coming, though (and maybe he should've) is the fact everyone ends up drinking. Gaping, he looks from one witcher to the next, not believing what he's seeing.
"Unbelievable. Is that the only way witchers know how to ask for rewards?"
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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.
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Jaskier, however, has an idea for a game. Or, anyway, knows of one that goes well with drinking, and the rules for it are simple enough. He starts off strong, of course, picking a question that he knows very well will get all four of his witcher companions to drink. There is some mild grumbling about such a low blow, but all of them drink. Eskel is next on the go-around, gestures at Jaskier with his handful of cards.
"You should be careful, bard. You're easy to target, too." He puts down a card that makes Lambert curse, and says, "Never have I ever played a lute."
That will obviously catch Jaskier, and surprisingly, Coën too. The Griffin only shrugs in response, and just says, "I didn't play it well."
It's the Griffin's turn next, and he thinks about his question for a moment, watching Lambert try to recover in his card game. "Never have I ever... been eaten by a selkiemore."
"Gods willing you never will," Geralt says, and takes a drink. "Fucking reeks."
Thankfully, there aren't very many contracts ever put out to deal with selkiemore, since they're rare and, technically, not even carnivorous. If they ever swallow a person, it's usually on on accident, the poor soul just getting swept up into its maw while it trawls the water for plankton. Makes its guts reek something foul, though.
Lambert's up next, and considering that his game of gwent's going poorly, getting Eskel drunk might be the only way that he wins. "Never have I ever fucked a succubus," he says, and Eskel's the only one that takes a drink.
"A succubus?" Geralt says, eyebrows rising towards his hairline. Eskel grins and shrugs, apparently perfectly willing to leave the story there and let everyone wonder about it. Though Geralt's sure that he could get it out of him later, once he's good and sloshed; Eskel never holds out on out him for long.
Then it's Geralt's turn. "Hm. I've never... taught at Oxenfurt."
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"A target!" He exclaims with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You're going to lose this game pathetically if you pick a target! The strategic key is finding the common denominator and--" And just like that, he goes from gamesplaining Eskel to beaming at Coën. "You WHAT! How come you didn't tell me!"
Silly witchers, always keeping the best details to themselves. Since the selkiemore thing doesn't apply to him, he takes that opportunity to shower Coën with questions about his lute playing, but Jaskier gets sidetracked again at the mention of sex with a succubus. Look, it's not his fault there are so many interesting tales being told at the same time, alright? This is why he likes this game so much in the first place.
"Fucked a succubus!" He says with a delighted gasp, eyes widening and sparkling with curiosity. "You can actually do that and survive? Or was it a witcher thing? Was it good? Would you do it again? What about an incubus? Eskel, don't give me that look, I need to hear the whole--"
Wait, never mind, time to indignantly gasp at Geralt with a hand on his chest. He's hurt, Geralt. HURT!
"You dare to target your beloved! This is harassing! Harassing I say!" Eskel is chuckling, and since he was the one to start the whole targeting deal, Jaskier glares at him and back at Geralt before saying, "Never have I ever asked for the Law of Surprise!"
An effective way to get Geralt and Eskel both, Jaskier thinks, considering the current company of Cirilla and Scorpion. What Jaskier doesn't see coming, though (and maybe he should've) is the fact everyone ends up drinking. Gaping, he looks from one witcher to the next, not believing what he's seeing.
"Unbelievable. Is that the only way witchers know how to ask for rewards?"