the angels hidden blade

FOURTY THREE

As the vibrant hues of the setting sun spilled across the landscape, the world transformed into a canvas of muted greys and soft earthy tones, cocooning the small camping space. 

The crackling flames of the fire flickered with an orange dance, casting dancing shadows on the trees that surrounded them.

Nefeli, draped in the warmth of her soft brown furs, sat by the fire, the golden glow embracing her like a gentle caress. 

The air was filled with a quiet stillness, broken only by the subtle sounds of crackling wood and the distant murmurs of the wilderness.

Amidst the tranquil evening, Jaskier's melodic voice cut through the silence, carrying the weight of his proposal. 

His eyes, aglow with anticipation, mirrored the warm hues of the fading sun. 

"Okay, so if not Nilfgaard, I propose Eliria," he declared confidently, the words hanging in the air like the last notes of a haunting melody.

Nefeli, her gaze rising from the mesmerizing dance of flames, feigned interest as she arched an eyebrow in response to his suggestion. 

Her mind, however, was a tempest of thoughts, a whirlwind of memories and desires that lingered in the hidden corners of her consciousness.

Unspoken words swirled in the recesses of her mind as she contemplated the proposal. 

Yet, despite the external calm, her thoughts were a tumultuous sea, roiling with the images of her white-haired Witcher. 

The scent of his leather and the taste of his skin lingered on her lips.

She hadn't planned to lay claim to him in her thoughts, but somehow, he had become hers in the quiet recesses of her heart. 

The possessiveness felt unfamiliar yet oddly comforting. 

Hers. It made her lips quirk at the sides.

Nefeli was jolted from her introspection by the mesmerizing spectacle before her. 

Jaskier, seemingly possessing some wilderness prowess, as he had effortlessly ignited a fire before she had gotten back. 

The crackling tongues of blaze leapt and cavorted beneath the darkening sky, casting a warm glow that painted Jaskier's face in a play of shadows.

His cerulean eyes sparkled, reflecting the dance of the flames with a mischievous glint as if the firelight had ignited a playful spirit within him.

Anticipating the usual antics that accompanied Jaskier's musical inclinations, Nefeli readied herself to swat him as he leant across her, she was half-expecting him to reach for his lute. 

To her surprise, however, he produced a sizable purple jar from the depths of his carry bag.

"You look glum," Jaskier remarked, his voice carrying a tone of concern as he extended the jar toward Nefeli. 

Perplexed, she accepted the jar, her fingers tracing its smooth surface, still captivated by its rich purple hue.

Studying the mysterious contents within, Nefeli couldn't help but be intrigued by the enticing blend of scents that wafted up to meet her. 

The air was imbued with the fragrance of alcohol, intertwined with the sweet aroma of berries and fruit.

As she removed the large cork from the top, the anticipation in the air heightened. 

With a lingering gaze at Jaskier, she raised the jar to her lips, ready to embrace the unexpected. 

The liquid within touched her lips, and she took a long, eager sip.