❝ that’s a lot of blood. ❞ Jaskier to whomever -✧- @poeticposie
Echiar's nostrils flared gently at the outburst by the bard, whom they had been watching play his instrument and break into song in the tavern. A fight had later broken out over the outcome of a heated game of dice across the room and after it had been removed to the courtyard outside, had only escalated. The sore loser of the game had come out with a knife, and this only ended in his own demise. He lay now in a growing puddle of blood, soaking the dirt.
With the scent overwhelming the space, the vampire who had sworn off the enticing taste of blood, stood trying to compose themselves. They had done their best to hide in the cities of the humans, not drinking the blood from them which at one time they would have relished wholly, drenching themselves in the dark gore. Now, they had to fit in, reject the urge.
Echiar turned their nose up at the bloody man and turned to look at the bard who had stopped next to them. Apparently they had both been curious. "Quite a lot, indeed. It disgusts me," they said and took a dramatic step back. "Perhaps you need not write about this for your next tavern song. As silly as it may start, it did not end well."
