[ His lips curve into the smallest smile. When he first brought Ciri to Kaer Morhe, he had not anticipated she would make it her home. Cold, broken, filled with rats and men and musty furs. She had, though. She made it her home. And then he remembers telling Vesemir, I can't stay. Too dangerous. Too many people chasing her.

Now they've landed here. The dangers have not passed. But Ciri at least has a home again. They all do. (He only wishes...but he needs to stop wishing when it comes to Yennefer, doesn't he? Where has it ever gotten him?) ]

We've a special butchering table now. [ He tips his head back and to the side to catch Jaskier's gaze. Amusement lines his expression. He'd bought them the table for a reason. So Jaskier would stop complaining about the kitchen being used for both butchering and eating bread.

He glances back towards the sea. ] When I used to visit the Isles, the shores would be full of sirens and salty seawater thrashing your skin. This is far less unpleasant.

[ Not that he wasn't greatly fond of Skellige. Good people. Good food. Excellent wine. ]