WOLVES WITHOUT TEETH ( geralt of rivia.. )

006. balladeer of high halls..

But though she stared at the one face which would at any point pinch a smile at the corner of her thinned lips, Azaras heard for a while just the ghost of waves. Until she met Geralt's eyes, she didn't remember clearly why she heard the sea, but their connection triggered a memory hidden amongst a dream she had last night, before it was completely forgotten.

She dreamt of the same wolf, which she was running from this time. Running through sand was a messed up process, slow and heavy, with her clothes dripping salted water that scratched her very skin under the many materials and weapons which cackled laughter about her.

It was a deafening noise, between foams of waves, her numbed steps digging into a cold, grey sand and the growls of the wolf behind her, following like a fog. Above all else, from the sea to her left came a hum, a calling, a song so beautiful that even in a dream, Azaras couldn't help but seek it with her gaze.

The sight of a red sea stopped her dream and she blinked the concentration of her presence there to stare at Geralt's hand, then at the table and finally grow aware of the feeling she had, what it might mean.

Geralt watched her absent state and knew there were very few things that could make Azaras this faint.

Then the state was gone, more sudden than it came and the woman's voice became louder even than the barks exchanged between Lambert and Eskel, across from her. "Jaskier!"

The bard at the end of the long table, until then just humming for himself, striking chords on new tunes he attempted to create as masterfully as they came into his mind, now raised his head curiously at the pathos with which his name was called. At first, he looked to the Witchers expecting to be the centerpiece of shunning for his music, yet instead, he was greeted by Azaras' confident smile, uncertain only on her careful words.

"Would you sing a song for me?" She tilted her head to the side. Geralt stiffened a laughter into a shiver of his chest, seeing the charm in her unfiltered, that same charm that swayed him to dance many times before, just to hold her hand. This time, Jaskier was the poor victim, bowing his head in panic.

He flaunted himself courageous, straightening up, "I don't sing for free."

Fool, Geralt almost answeted, firmly convinced his so-called friends should have known better than not considering himself lucky to be the subject of Azaras compelling manners.

"Now is not exactly the time for music," Lambert interrupted the exchange between Azaras and Jaskier by lowering his left fist from supporting his head to hitting the table. "We are trying to decide whether or not the road to Hengfors will be worth it, considering we'll meddle with Lords and possible war plans..."

"Shut up and listen," Geralt ordered through gritted teeth.

Much quieter, after the great white's growl, Jaskier raised one knee up with him on the bench. "I was just kidding, Azaras. What song would you like?" he gestured towards his lute.

"I don't really know the name of the song," she admitted, dreamily still following the course of an action from her sleep.

"Then hum it," Jaskier adjusted himself. "I'm sure if it's a popular one, I will know it and if it is not..."

Uncertainty still, remained only on her words, because otherwise, desperation to follow her hunch carried Azaras effortlessly into humming faintly what little she could grasp from her dream. The tune she sang was distant and sad, "...meet the sea, the first ships all came be..."

That was all she heard.

And it was enough to have Jaskier's eyes grow wider.

"I do know that song," even he was impressed with how quickly he was reminded of the times when he was invited to sing in harbors, to drunk fishermen with bountiful daughters of fair, red hair more netted than the threds they sewed at night for the morning. "I haven't sang that one in a while and you didn't quite sing it from the start either."