2/16/2026, 4:10 PM
Tonight's the most crowded they've ever seen the Howff. Faces they know and faces they don't, talking and laughing and drinking. The sweet smoke fills. the room in waves every time the door cracks open or a wind rattles the panes, not as overwhelming now. Enough to take the edge off. If not for the empty fireplace, might feel like a real tavern.
It's the closest they've been to this many people since the ship went down, and Taloka has to admit there's comfort in it. It's what they know; doesn't matter if it's what they'd do, given their own space. They even find themself getting into it, once the herbs and berries have been passed out, though there's the one piece that never calms down enough not to be passing judgments.
Most of them on Jaskier, dancing along the bar, singing a variety of songs they've heard too many times before and some they haven't. Colorful lyrics. Lyra must be close enough to drunk not to care. Might not like him, or his singing, but everyone else seems to- and Taloka knows to keep their mouth shut on it, or they'll invite being sung about next.
Still. Might liven up the evening if he were to slip.
They duck the flailing paws that keep sliding off the bartop when he gets too caught up in the music. Put together a setup for pressing berries into juice with the herbs to make it pleasant before the bard decided his stage would be what people usually ate off. By the time they get it to the tables in the center of the room, Lyra's scattered berries everywhere. Sarge- never got the impression he was the most carefree man out there- is... already dancing.
Taloka tips a bowl to Lyra's words and drinks. Not going to be sober for this.
It's the closest they've been to this many people since the ship went down, and Taloka has to admit there's comfort in it. It's what they know; doesn't matter if it's what they'd do, given their own space. They even find themself getting into it, once the herbs and berries have been passed out, though there's the one piece that never calms down enough not to be passing judgments.
Most of them on Jaskier, dancing along the bar, singing a variety of songs they've heard too many times before and some they haven't. Colorful lyrics. Lyra must be close enough to drunk not to care. Might not like him, or his singing, but everyone else seems to- and Taloka knows to keep their mouth shut on it, or they'll invite being sung about next.
Still. Might liven up the evening if he were to slip.
They duck the flailing paws that keep sliding off the bartop when he gets too caught up in the music. Put together a setup for pressing berries into juice with the herbs to make it pleasant before the bard decided his stage would be what people usually ate off. By the time they get it to the tables in the center of the room, Lyra's scattered berries everywhere. Sarge- never got the impression he was the most carefree man out there- is... already dancing.
Taloka tips a bowl to Lyra's words and drinks. Not going to be sober for this.
english | gujarati
