@epicballads continued from X
"Wha —" Jaskier looked at the woman in front of him. Despite her being a slight bit smaller than he was, she held his jaw in a tight enough grip she could make him look directly into her dark brown eyes with a little too much ease.
He had been in a very spirited discussion with a beautiful young woman, telling her about the inspirations for his songs and the creative process he usually went through. Right in the middle of his story about the howls that could be heard in the distance at night these days and all the stories about wolves and monsters the locals began spinning around it, the stranger had interrupted him. Jaskier had told her to be patient and wait until he was done talking about the things he had heard the locals report about but the stranger didn't seem to be in a patient mood.
Now the woman he had originally been talking to was gone and he was staring at a new face. Jaskier lifted his hand and tried to wipe her hand out of his face, "Unhand me!" "Do we know each other?" he asked, a little sour about the situation, as well as a little worried he might actually know her. If so, he had forgotten where from.
Mistral entered the tavern right after dusk. A couple of patrons - if mercy could grace them with such name - darted a long look at her ass as she made her way to the counter. She perched on a stool beckoning at the innkeeper.
The place reeked of sweat and misery. Right in the middle of the room, two girls were dancing upon a table, their movements an inviting promise for those willing to spend a few extra coppers. A couple of dancers were taking a break from work. They were sitting at a table across the room.
A man with fancy clothes was there too. A third girl next to Mistral said something about the man with words that would have made blush a docker. She joined the others swaying her hips as she walked, her attire leaving little to the imagination. She let her body slide across the table, resting her chin on her hands as she listened to the man.
Lambert was right. Tracking down the bard proved quite easy. Mistral knocked back the vodka, slid a coin on the counter, and went to sit next to the merry group.
So that was the famous Jaskier. A little taller than she thought, fine features, sparkling eyes, and a silver tongue.
As a matter of fact, the man didn't keep quiet for a second. Mistral learned more about the recent events in the span of half an hour than in the last month. When finally he started spilling about what she wanted to know, she grew impatient. The bard was a little louder than she liked. If wolves were actually involved, she didn't want him to spread the news any further. Especially if Blackthorn was with them.
Mistral decided it was time to grasp Jaskier's attention. Literally.
She grabbed his face and locked eyes with him.
"Now, now. What on earth a woman must do for you to notice her, Messer?" she jested, her voice smooth and warm like sand slipping through fingers.
"Never met before," she admitted when the man protested, "but I am afraid you have a history with my employer, more precisely, with his wife. Now, you strike me as a man of the world. I made a long way to get here. I am tired, hungry, longing for a warm bath and I am not sure the coin I was promised is worth the trouble. So if you are willing to listen I offer you a deal..."
