#nonhuman jaskier maybe
Jaskier doesn’t sing.
No one asks him to. Not in earnest. He doesn’t know what he would if they did.
The effect is surprising in its swiftness - how his breath goes shallow and voice hoarsens.
His knees are the first to start aching, but the rest follows suit and soon enough, every movement is a chore. Decay sets root in his heart and spreads to his limbs with each beat it makes.
There’s a faint taste of blood at the roof of his mouth.
He swallows it back with the contents of whatever bottle finds his hand, and doesn’t sing.
