Is this a common occurrence for the bard? Surely it must be to lay and relish in the messy nest of love. Why else would he be so despised by husbands, brothers and so many that stumble into the bedchamber? That is how rumors go, she thinks.
Yennefer slowly blinks and finds that careful kiss and press to her cheek is a private kind of charm or mark of luck. The deeper reserves of sadness have been purged from the well in his eyes. Still brilliant, still blue a might better than before. Perhaps a trick of the light.
Lilac, gooseberries, linen, the fine quality oil with sex all with the unique fragrances of their bodies. Heady, rich and lush, befitting a sorceress. Somehow Jaskier wears lilac well.
"Lavender and rose bath salts." Specifics. She is still laying down but cannot help but reach up to stroke his jaw, his throat, down his neck to his chest. Such a distracting sight he is. Though her eyes are still drawn up to his face, smiling and sweet. "Apple juice. And if there isn't any I can be without." Though the concept makes her lips press together in a pout. "Get whatever you like. Is that a fitting reward for a brave bard forced to embark on such a quest?" Perilous place that an inn in the lazier hours of the night during a peaceful festival.
Her fingers drop from him and fall against her belly. Oh. That's right. She is still dressed for fun and games. The leather is not uncomfortable, the fastens might have little teeth marks. More proof of a time well spent.
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Yennefer slowly blinks and finds that careful kiss and press to her cheek is a private kind of charm or mark of luck. The deeper reserves of sadness have been purged from the well in his eyes. Still brilliant, still blue a might better than before. Perhaps a trick of the light.
Lilac, gooseberries, linen, the fine quality oil with sex all with the unique fragrances of their bodies. Heady, rich and lush, befitting a sorceress. Somehow Jaskier wears lilac well.
"Lavender and rose bath salts." Specifics. She is still laying down but cannot help but reach up to stroke his jaw, his throat, down his neck to his chest. Such a distracting sight he is. Though her eyes are still drawn up to his face, smiling and sweet. "Apple juice. And if there isn't any I can be without." Though the concept makes her lips press together in a pout. "Get whatever you like. Is that a fitting reward for a brave bard forced to embark on such a quest?" Perilous place that an inn in the lazier hours of the night during a peaceful festival.
Her fingers drop from him and fall against her belly. Oh. That's right. She is still dressed for fun and games. The leather is not uncomfortable, the fastens might have little teeth marks. More proof of a time well spent.