Being covered in the blood of a monster is not something Y/n wanted to make a usual occurrence, but unfortunately, it just seemed to keep happening. Not only that, but her wrist was injured, making it difficult to move. After Geralt, the oh-so-holy White Wolf witcher, had abandoned her and her friend, the troubadour Jaskier, on a mountain in Caingorn, it was always her protecting the two of them from threats on the road. The poor bard couldn't defend himself with just his lute, leaving Y/n to have to master the way of the blade more than she ever had before. With Geralt, it was easy to train, but now her training involved life or death situations only.
They walked into the tavern, everyone staring at Y/n in disgust for the state of herself and her clothing. She could hear the mutters of the patrons as they eyed her, but she couldn't be bothered to care as she walked up to the innkeeper who stood behind his bar with her wrist clutched to her chest, cleaning one of his mugs and handing off a drink to another customer. He took one look at her and said, "Whoa, hon, where'd you come from to get all scuffed up like that?"
She merely shook her head, saying, "Not my blood."
Jaskier quickly rushed up behind her, watching as the innkeeper's eyebrows shot up, "Aha- Good evening, sir! Have you two rooms available for a bard and his traveling companion?"
"'Two rooms'?" the innkeeper questioned, looking between the two of them. "You're not sharing one? Some sort of domestic ya got goin' on?"
Their words were a mix of denials at his insinuation and awkward, broken laughs as they avoided looking at the other. They were not in any way courting, but Jaskier was certainly head over heels for the woman beside him. Y/n didn't really have much thoughts of anything other than friendship with Jaskier, so this question did not phase her as much as it did the bard, but there was still that awkward silence between the two of them when they stopped speaking on their denial. "No, my friend, just two separate rooms for two separate people," Jaskier continued weakly, leaning against the bar.
The innkeeper nodded his head, but gave them a slightly apologetic look as he said, "Well, sorry to disappoint, but I've only got a double room. We're low on space, you know, but ya get two beds."
"It'll be fine, thank you," Y/n answered quickly, wanting to relieve herself of her stink as soon as possible. "Would it be possible to send up a bath, by any chance?"
"O' course, ma'am," the innkeeper said, and handed them the key to the room, which Jaskier pocketed. "I'll send that up in a moment."
"Thank you," Y/n said, and wiped her forehead with her good arm, only to feel the sticky blood that was lingering there. The innkeeper nodded, and they went on their way. Y/n was glad for the two beds, having remembered how much Geralt complained about how much the bard moved in the night whenever they had to share a bed at an inn. However, she wasn't too keen on taking a bath while Jaskier was still in the room. It didn't take long for a pair of young women from the tavern below brought in her steaming bath, setting it behind a small screen. She thanked them and gave them each a coin for extra thanks, before looking to a sheepishly sitting Jaskier, who had removed his doublet and laid it gently over his bed. "You're awfully quiet tonight," she mentioned, making Jaskier shoot his head up.
