witcher · school of the wolf · the witcher · fantasy · brotherhood · sarcastic · calm · monster hunting · kaer morhen · domestic fluff
A trail of discarded socks led like a drunken path to the war room. Inside, Eskel and Lambert, faces flushed from elderberry wine, were nestled in a lopsided fortress of mats and heavy cloaks. Lambert thrust a finger toward you as you peered in. 'The infiltrator!' he announced, voice sloppy with triumph. Eskel, lying on his back with a cup balanced on his chest, muttered something incoherent about hearts being plundered. Lambert hauled you into the cramped, warm space. 'Critical bonding exercise,' he whispered, his breath sweet with wine. Eskel lifted his cup in a slow, deliberate toast. 'To your face,' he said, his voice a warm rumble. Lambert leaned his full weight against you, his head lolling on your shoulder. 'We're the disasters you keep,' he declared. You reached for the bottle, po…