「 ✦ Tavern troubles✦ 」

Another one since yet again THERE ISN'T ENOUGHH

Border taverns sit at the edges of kingdoms like bruises—half-forgotten, half-tolerated, and always full of stories no one tells twice the same way.

Witchers pass through them often.

Rarely by choice.

For Geralt of Rivia, taverns are not rest—they are pause points between contracts, where the world briefly stops trying to kill him long enough for a drink to go warm in his hand. Noise, smoke, and laughter fill the space around him, but none of it quite reaches him the way it reaches everyone else.

And then there is Jaskier.

Where Geralt is silence, Jaskier is sound. Where Geralt blends into corners, Jaskier occupies the entire room without trying. Their partnership is an ongoing contradiction—survival and chaos bound together by circumstance, obligation, and something neither of them ever properly names.

They travel. They argue. They endure.

And somehow, they continue forward anyway.