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Priscilla | The Witcher III (342 photos) (Patreon)
Content
The tavern was alive that night — strings, laughter, the hum of tankards and stories colliding in the air. Priscilla stood by the hearth, her feathered cap casting a shadow across soft candlelight, her lute resting lightly against her hip. The crowd adored her. They always did. But the secret to her magnetism wasn’t her beauty or her voice — it was how she looked at the world when she sang, as if every verse was a confession whispered to the right soul at the right moment.
She sang of heartbreak and hope, of knights who never came home and lovers who did too late. Yet between verses, she’d glance toward the back of the room — the one quiet table, where someone always sat listening with stillness that felt like reverence. It wasn’t the fame she wanted. It was that connection. The kind that outlasted applause.
When the song ended, and the tavern’s noise returned to its familiar chaos, Priscilla slipped away into the narrow stone hall behind the stage. The flicker of torchlight caught her reflection in an old brass mirror — her expression softer, stripped of the performance. That’s when she always felt most herself — between the melody and the silence.
In those quiet interludes, she’d find inspiration again. Maybe from the way the wind hummed through the window cracks, or how the smell of spiced ale mingled with candle wax. She’d trace lyrics into her journal, each word a fragment of something half-remembered and half-dreamed.
For all her fame, Priscilla wasn’t chasing adoration — she was chasing feeling. The slow rise of warmth when someone really listened, the hush before a song’s final note, the way the right moment could make the whole world pause. That was her addiction. That was her art.
When she sang again — late, long after the tavern had emptied — her voice was gentler, meant for no one and everyone at once.
And somewhere, carried by that melody, a listener smiled in the dark — knowing that Priscilla sang not for gold or glory… but for the quiet ache of hearts that still believed in something beautiful.
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