Kyana Of Cintra

14

Having brought Jaskier back to the table, Kyana sat triumphantly and crossed her legs under the table. Geralt gave her a light glare, wishing he could diminish the bard into thin air so that Geralt might be left alone. Jaskier placed an arm onto the pillar, watching the silent argument unfold between the Witcher's expressions. 

"We were hear to drink alone." Geralt growled out, annoyed. He had wished to remain alone, par from the company of Kyana, yet Jaskier's presence was suddenly a requirement to Kyana.  Jaskier couldn't care less if Geralt wanted to be alone.

"Yeah, good. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance, except for you two." Jaskier walked forward so that he was facing Geralt. "And you, from what I understand, would be very gentle in your review." He looked to Kyana. Jaskier forced his eyes to meet Geralt's, unsure if he would find contempt or something entirely different. "Come on. You don't want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me. Three words or less." Geralt looked as though those three words would be 'never sing publicly', but he knew Kyana would hit him under the table if he did. Instead, he settled on a more reasonable approach. 

"They don't exist." Geralt stated in an attempt to give Jaskier some useful information. Jaskier looked confused. Of all the comments he had received about his singing, all the praise and all the negativity, this was something he had never heard before.

"What don't exist?" He asked, taking a seat next to Kyana and leaning forward in interest. Geralt clenched his jaw, a sign his irritation was becoming insurmountable. Whenever Geralt was annoyed or angry or just done with the world, his jaw would tighten until the bone looked close to breaking. This would often give him headaches, which made him even grumpier than he was before. 

"The creatures in your song." Geralt replied stiffly. His patience was very slim at the best of times; the only real patience he had was given to Kyana. He actually wanted her company, which was a stark difference to the idiot sitting in front of him. 

"And how would you know?" Geralt gave him a long, hard stare. Obviousness kicked in, and Jaskier turned to Kyana in shock. He observed what the both of them were wearing and saw her chain, the snake glinting as the sun shone through the window. "Is that your husband's?" He could scarcely believe the woman beside him was a Witcher. 

Kyana's hand drifted upwards, fluttering her fingers over the chain of the necklace. "No. This one is mine. This." Kyana reached over, gently pulling the silver necklace from under Geralt's black breastplate. He let her, steady as stone. "is my husband's." her hands were a little cold; Geralt could feel it under his brown shirt. An overwhelming urge to take both of her hands and close them in his to warm them encased him.

Jaskier looked back and forth between the two, an incredulous look on his face.

"Oh, fun. White and blue hair, big old loner, two very very scary-looking swords. I know who you are." Jaskier announced triumphantly. Geralt looked at Kyana, telling her silently that they needed to leave. Kyana stood and delicately picked up her swords, which were placed in the corner. With Jaskier slightly blocking her way, Kyana had to shuffle along the bench to leave. 

Kyana paused, turned back, and picked up the piece of bread left on the table. Geralt chuckled at her as she bit into the bread. "You want some ale with that?" He teased her, to which she slapped his chest with the back of her hand, an amused smile threatening to break across her face. In truth, although Kyana would never tell him, she liked being around him, hunting and travelling with him by her side. It felt as though she had found a piece of her home, if that home was movable, six foot two, and built like a bear.

"You're the Witchers, Geralt of Rivia and Kyana of Cintra." Everyone in the tavern grew quiet and turned to catch a glimpse of the Butchers of Blaviken. Over the past years, they had made a very strong name for themselves. News of what they had done had traveled everywhere, as though only a moment had passed when it reached the corners of the world. "Called it." Jaskier called when they made no comment. Geralt's hand moved to the small of Kyana's back, nudging her forward and out the door to keep her safe.

A tall, skinny boy with jet black hair stood up. "A job I've got for ya. I beg you. A devil, he's been stealing all our grain. In advance, I'll pay you. A hundred ducat." Geralt turned to the boy. He sighed, knowing he'd have to get back into the good books at some point. He looked at Kyana, who nodded her approval. They needed work, it was starting to get tedious doing nothing much all day but hunt and play with the horses.

"One seventy." The boy didn't even hesitate. He plucked his purse straight from his pocket, weighing it in his hand. He was about to give them all he had. Kyana put a hand on Geralt's arm, pity coursing through her veins. Geralt looked down to her, his eyebrows furrowed to display his bewilderment.

"Are you doing this for your family? Your parents?" The boy nodded, almost embarrassed by the revelation. "Then one fifty is all you will pay. Nothing more." Geralt was angry at first, having lost twenty coins, but he understood Kyana's reason. They could easily draw that money from someone who could pay for it more comfortably, not a desperate teenager. 

"I've no doubt you'll come through. You take no prisoners, so I hear." The boy offered Kyana the bag directly, having taken out the coins he was allowed to keep. Kyana took the opportunity to offer the boy a few words of advice. 

"Life is very limited on this planet. One must learn to be wise when taking a life. A wise man would always have prisoners." The boy, who couldn't say much else, nodded.

"Yes ma'am." He further extended his arm, giving her the bag. She took it from him gently. Kyana turned on her heel, walking out the door with Geralt hot on her heels.