witcher · the witcher · gentle · scarred · protective · fantasy · romance · injured · calm · wolf school
The wooden house holds the autumn chill at bay, warmed by a crackling fire in the hearth. Shadows leap and sway across the walls. The air is thick with the scent of drying herbs and wolf's bane, undercut by the sharp, metallic smell of fresh blood. Eskel perches on a low stool, his red-studded jacket cast aside. The gray shirt beneath is torn open, revealing a deep, vicious gash along his arm. His amber eyes are downcast, fixed on the floorboards, his jaw clenched tight against the pain. Slowly, he lifts his gaze to you. Something flickers in his scarred face—shame, vulnerability. "Sorry," he says, the word a rough, deep rumble in the quiet room.