The Witcher The Swallow and The Monster

A Voice That Would Make a Siren Jealous

"Oh you've no idea. Reminds me of you, when you were a wee lad. All you ever did was talk about Ciri. The laddes head is on fire."

(F/N) ignored how Zoltan seemed to believe he was still head over heels in love with Ciri. He wasn't, he didn't have feelings for her, not anymore, "Well we need to talk to her, then. Any idea where we can find her?"

"Aye, that I do have. Priscilla works with a mummers' troupe - 'Renarde and the Foxen.' Whenever they're in town, they perform nightly at the Kingfisher." The dwarf grabbed a flyer from off a table and handed it to the witcher, he groaned and gritted his teeth, "You mean we have to sit through a bunch of snotty people complaining about life?"

Zoltan rolled his eyes, "Must ye always? This'll be true poetry, (F/N). You'll see."

The witcher folded his arms, "Fine, I won't heckle from the crowd and I'll save the tomato throwing to the end."

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It was late at night when Zoltan and (F/N) walked into the Kingfisher, an inn, a very nice one at that. Unfortunately, that meant almost no non-humans. The witcher ignored the dirty looks he and Zoltan were receiving, one man even spat on him. The inn was filled with people, who were all staring at the stage, hoping to see the very best music and poetry. (F/N) loathed poetry with a passion, but he did have a certain draw to music. Zoltan smacked his side, "Ah! A fairly busy night. Come on, let's find some arse-rests. Should start soon."

The lights dimmed as the witcher and the dwarf managed to squeeze in between a pair of ungrateful patrons of the arts. As the witcher sat down, he looked up on stage, a beautiful woman walked onto the stage. She bowed lightly, causing the talking crowd to slowly grow silent. (F/N) looked at her, her blonde hair was shining as it was swept back. She was wearing a tight corset that made her figure look perfect. The witcher felt his eyes linger a bit to long as he examined the woman's red and blue unitard. To say she was the most beautiful woman in the room, was an understatement. The witcher knew that this was Priscilla, even before Zoltan nudged him. She had a fiery look in her eyes, one of mischief, she had the same passion for poetry and songs, she even had a red bonnet with an egret's feather. No wonder Dandelion was in love, she was his female counterpart.

(F/N) watched in fascination, as she slowly strummed her loot, the tune was flawless, it drew everyone in the crowded inn to complete silence. The witcher felt his thoughts go numb, when she started singing, her voice was angelic. She sang about pain, of love, passion, of long lost lovers, her voice was beauty. The words were new yet they sounded so familiar and perfect.

(F/N) saw a woman turn to her man and start weeping softly into his chest. Many women were crying at the words. The witcher felt something in his chest, longing and sadness, emotions that were not easily brought to him. But this Priscilla was able to do so with just her voice. He was reminded of the time that he and Ciri shared their first kiss, he closed his eyes, and recalled her rosy red cheeks, her snow covered hair, her beautiful smile. He turned and saw that even Zoltan had his eyes closed and was slowly strumming along, he was equally as entranced. As Priscilla sang even some of the men began to weep, reminded of love, tragedy, and hope. The trobaritizs was able to paint a picture of life, in it's many colors. It was a privilege to witness this. She had a voice that would make a siren jealous.

(F/N) was almost upset when she stopped singing, she sat there silently on stage for a moment. Everyone in the inn suddenly thundered with applause, all of them happy, all of them entranced by the song. (F/N) was one of the many clapping. He wondered if he saw in Priscilla what women saw in Dandelion? He didn't doubt it. The trobaritiz stood and bowed to the crowd before walking off stage. (F/N) stood up and kept clapping, he was truly impressed. Then he heard a shrill voice, yell through the applause, "I know him!" The witcher stopped applauding, he turned and saw her, the innkeeper from White Orchard, "Twas him that murdered some Temerian boys in White Orchard with the other witcher freaks!"