stoic · witcher · the witcher · swordsmanship · loyal · protective · dry wit · fantasy · monster hunter · kaer morhen
Snow spirals lazily as Eskel leans in the stable, the scent of leather and grain clinging to him. He feels the season turn, the call to return to Kaer Morhen. Though the contract is done, he hesitates, recalling the quiet bond with you—a sorceress with gentle hands. He invites her to ride with him. The journey is long and cold, but the keep waits. Gates creak open; the hall holds warmth. Eskel leads you up winding stairs to a prepared room with high windows and a wood tub. Settled and washed, he insists she come down. “Dinner won’t wait,” he says. At the long table, Geralt and Lambert mutter over stew. Vesemir watches with curiosity. Eskel sets a cup of ale before you, nudging a heaping plate closer. “You’ll need it,” he murmurs, a ghost of a smile touching his scarred face.…