Eskel crosses an ancient relict that brings to life the thing that people fear the most, and drives them insane with hatred and terror. When it looks inside the Witcher Eskel, it sees the destruction of Kaer Morhen, the deaths of his brothers and two amber eyes burning above it all.
The relict traps Eskel in a loop with himself. He fights his duplicate over and over and over. Every time, he dies in a pool of his own blood, and then watches his mirror image slaughter his loved ones as his life drains away.
To break the loop, Eskel must learn to look in the mirror and accept what he sees, and show it compassion, even if he can never forgive it.
Moonlight Cell This was a really quick pic (about 3 and a half hours) I haven’t drawn a werewolf in forever and it kinda shows, but hey, this was quick and fun and I like it a lot.
Post Shibari - Sketch So,@rawrkinjd suggested shibari over at my P*treon I am taking a bit of a different spin on it (which you cannot see yet), and I really hope I’m not totally off the mark here.
Gonzo from Muppet Christmas carol voice: And Eskel who did notdie
[image description: A stylized portrait of Eskel from The Witcher. The figure is drawn from the chest up and looking forward with a slight smile. He’s dressed in his costume from the Witcher 3 and set against a pink background with stars scattered around]
YAYYY IM SO HAPPY I CAN SHOW THIS!!!!!!! Finished a commission for @hannahmationstudios this also got me playing the Witcher again casually, still would give my life for headband geralt
A little piece for @round–robin ’s amazing Bear!Eskel x Geralt fic! Please go read the fic here and shout all your love at her for gracing us with such good food 〒▽〒
Extra thanks to @midzilla and the @continentcakeshop for listening to me yell and helping me along with the ridiculous angle I decided was a good idea
AN/// I’m starting to do a same world/timeline collection of blurbs. Here are my first couple! Not beta’d but please enjoy my sleep deprived quick tales!
Air forced its way from her lungs out into the cold corridor. The hot springs was still six doors down, but her legs refused to bring her any closer. Burning was familiar after a long day of walking, but after this morning, it has evolved. The burn crept through her core, into her chest, wrapping around her heart and legs. Muscles contracted in her shoulders, her back trying to work overtime to help her diaphragm drag in air. Abs could have formed with how intense the ache was in her stomach. Sweat dripped from her forehead, falling onto the already damp shirt. Stones on the wall the healer leaned on tried desperately to cool her, but to no avail.
After a moment of rest, Y/n finally was able to drag herself back into the middle of the hallway with the intent of bathing. All of the hairs on her arms stood as she felt a presence behind her, though her nerves were quickly smoothed. Then frazzled once more. Her gasping had brought in the familiar scent of hay, leather and that ethereal spice.
The healer’s eyes landed on Eskel’s large form making itself small. Hands hovered over her, hesitant to help. Molten gold churned in his eyes, along with worry as he watches her struggle to catch her breath.
“What were you doing?” Y/n tried desperately to pull herself together, throwing up a thumb over her shoulder to fill the silence. Once she straightened herself, the lovestruck woman tried to give her best nonchalant smile.
“Jaskier invited me to his ‘beauty jog’.” Scars pulled and tightened as his brows flew towards his hairline. Surprise lined the Witcher’s voice as he inquired,
“And you accepted?” A remorseful nod was given with an only slightly sarcastic,
“A mistake on my part.” The wolf chuckled, the notch in his lip making his small smirk look more feral to most. His arm hesitated, but still stuck out towards her, offering itself as a crutch. A small, bashful smile was shown in thanks and acceptance as her arm laced itself around his. He led her towards the baths, his eyes frequently flicking down to catch glimpses.
“Was running something you were hoping for? I assumed you’d prefer to rest through winter.” Embarrassment was clear in her demeanor, though she still answered truthfully.
“Well, the bard was very compelling…” Y/n paused, eyes raking along the stone walls. Or anywhere, really, that wasn’t Eskel. “He was mentioning a few contracts and I got to thinking. I’m there to support you, but how can I do that if I’m slow? You only have forty-eight seconds before melinaw sets in. Melinaw poison is common in the South! Now, I’m not saying you’d lazily stubble into a bush and get poisoned, but it’s a possibility.” At some point in her rambling, they had made it to the door. The wolf looked down with soft eyes, lovingly taking everything in.
Heat pours off her skin, along with the scent of her efforts. Sweat crusted on her forehead, blood still clearly pumping fast throughout her body. The healer’s eyes caught his staring.
“You would run for me? That is commitment.” His voice was somewhat teasing, but also held something so vulnerable. Hope, maybe. Her eyes drop to where Eskel’s heart resided; a small habit the Witcher had noticed a while back.
“Well, if that’s all I had to do to prove commitment, I would have run ages ago.” Tension built, Eskel swallowing hard. His free hand came up to his jaw, his thumb rubbing just under his chin for a moment. After rubbing away whatever fictional thing resided on his chin, he swallowed again, finding courage to respond.
“I would never ask you to.” It seemed the healer lost herself in the cat pupils the Witcher donned. They softened, giving almost a round shape. The black giving a sturdy island in the middle of golden tsunamis.
“Regardless…” she trailed. It didn’t need to be said, as she had said it a thousand times before in thousands of different ways. Eskel’s eyes snapped to the door, gently pulling Y/n out of the way. Loud footsteps approached, and Lambert appeared once the door was thrown open. As he stomped away, he threw back a jab at the two. The snip in his tone, steam rolling off his skin, and small towel all alluded to their conversation interrupting his bath.
“I’m glad I like running. It’s helping me get away from this boring-ass conversation. Maybe you should focus on practicing ‘saying what you mean’.” The older Witcher bristled for only a moment before silently wishing Y/n’s arm didn’t drop his own. Whishing her eyes would peer back up at his once her embarrassment leaves along with his younger brother. He clears his throat after a moment, once more grabbing his muse’s attention.
“I would run. For you, that is.” He gives a closed mouth smile, one he practiced for a long while. One he is convinced make him look ‘less frightening’, not realizing the healer’s love for all of him. The older man gave an almost imperceivable bow of his head before stepping back. “Enjoy your bath. It seems well earned.”
A thought lingered in his mind, something he scolded himself for not being able to verbalize.
“Runner or not, I trust and love you.”
-x—–
Nothing annoyed the feral Witcher more than being in the dark.
Lambert had picked up on Jaskier staring at Y/n a little over ten minutes ago. It seemed that he was the only Witcher in the room that had noticed, and it drove him crazy. The way everyone was positioned in the library, the youngest Witcher was the only one who couldn’t see what Y/n was doing. With her back facing him, he was having difficulty figuring out what was so interesting to the bard. This whole time, he had thought she was reading, as practically everyone else was.
With the rest of the fort being too cold, everyone converged in front of the library’s massive fireplace. Lambert was the closest to the flame; the fire practically kissing his back. He had Gwent cards splayed in front of him, but it seemed some of his space was taken by the bard’s foot. That’s what grabbed the wolf’s attention in the first place. Jaskier’s leg was outstretching slowly as his full attention was on the woman. Every few seconds, the brunet will hunch over his journal, furiously scribbling. Giddiness rolled off the poet in tidal waves, making the older man visibly gag. Jaskier had originally been seated upright next to Lambert, but it seems he had slowly inched his way to have Y/n’s face in view.
Y/n had been seated at one of the cleaner tables in the room. In reality, it was the only clean table in the room. Lambert had been the first one to hunker down. Eskel had wandered in a while later, minutes before his companion. The older wolf swiftly danced around the room, cleaning the books from the table in question, and putting them away. He sacrificed a rag in his pocket to the dust and grime that coated the top, and once it was clean, he still seemed put out. It was only until he quietly lifted the table and moved it the perfect distance away from the fire that he was satisfied. When finished, he flashed a look to Lambert. His eyes were torn between daring the young Witcher to say something and begging him to stay silent. To give mercy.
It ruffled his feathers in a way. Where was his mercy from the stifling lovefest? It’s not fair that the idea of ‘them’ is what everyone was focusing on this winter. Despite that, he swallowed his jests, and silently prayed that him being idle led to a quicker end of their dance.
She had wandered in after the large man plopped himself down on a couch on the far wall. Yen and Geralt had taken to talking on the couch, books open on their lap to keep up appearances. Vesemir fluttered around, seemingly only reading a couple chapters of a given book he picks up before placing it back on the shelf and finding a new one.
Nothing the lovestruck girl did was grabbing the attention of anyone but the bard. But why!?
Lambert gives in, tapping the musicians foot. The bard’s eyes snap to him, almost angry he’s being taken away from the show. A well-placed eyebrow and a pointed finger were all Jaskier needed to start explaining. Though, his response was just as simple. Eyes followed lute calloused fingers as they pointed from the healer at the table to the scarred Witcher. Oh.
Jaskier’s eyes flickered to the entity sitting next to him as he could hear the smirk form. Lambert mouths ‘daydreaming’, to which, he receives a nod. Lambert, too, splays out. He is so confident, that the young Witcher’s bravado caught the attention of the White Wolf. Then, in turn, Yen’s interest.
“Hey, uh, Y/n? You still want to play Gwent tonight?” His tone lazily hid his amusement, but to his pleasure, she didn’t notice. In fact, it seemed her answer was on autopilot. Y/n never backed down from Gwent, and it was the perfect distraction topic.
“Uh-huh.” Lambert finally noticed how she was seated. Her head was in one hand, perfectly angled to be reading with the older Witcher in the background. This was too easy. He preened as another autopilot answer was given to his next question.
“Great. I’ve got some new cards. Hey, isn’t he framed justperfectly in this firelight?” To the vagueness, everyone looked to the two of them. Eskel’s eyes flickered from his brother to Y/n as she gave a curt ‘yeah’. It took the large man’s wide, golden eyes for the healer to process what the Witcher said.
Y/n’s eyes go wide, embarrassment clear on her face. Her eyes fly to the table around her, and her hand mechanically goes to her forehead. With a shaky voice, she announces her departure
“Oh wow, would you look at that? It seems I’ve forgotten my cards back in my room.” The healer quickly snaps her book shut, stumbling out of her chair. To play it off, she turns back to the room, still shuffling backwards towards the door. A thumb is thrown up, pointing over her shoulder, giving her emphasis. “Back to the ol’ room. I’ll, uh, be back.” Y/n threw up a large grin but dropped it when the door is within arm’s reach.
The bard’s foot that was outstretched knocked at Lambert’s closest limb. Jaskier flashed a disappointed look, not voicing his opinion in the same room as Eskel. The young Witcher and bard have had multiple conversations about Eskel and Y/n; the poet begging Lambert to leave their friend’s relationship alone.
–X—
“Why does is it sound like you’re not expecting me back?” Eskel’s large form was framed perfectly in the doorway, the overcast throwing sludge snow towards the earth behind him. Her lips puckered, hands raising, as she lifted herself to her tiptoes. Ever so gently, Y/n brought Eskel’s hood to rest perfectly on his head.
“I trust your skills. Of course I trust you.” The looming figure kept his smile internal as her heartbeat confirmed the statement as true. The healer’s eyes drop, as well as her frame. Her hands hesitate before leaving the hem of the hood. Those same hands found their place upon her hips, then slithered together across her chest. Then, one raked through her hair, until she finally found her voice. “I don’t trust the elements. I mean, look out there! I bet you there isn’t anymore solid footing, and thatis needed.” Pride, bashfulness, joy and love all swelled throughout the Witcher. He simply wished he had the confidence-no, the self-love needed to confess.
Golden eyes catch the light from the nearby torches as they intently look to the woman in front of them. He tried to convey everything he felt in that moment, hoping she understood that he feels the same way.
“I promise to be as vigilant, and as safe as possible. I will return.” She must have picked something up, and she responded with a nod and a somewhat satisfied smile. Y/n takes a small step back, as if reintroducing the rest of the world to their moment.
AN/ Heyo everyone! Here’s a little something I was doing while restless, and we need more Eskel content. I got the idea while scrolling through prompt lists, and I’ll link it here :)This was much longer than I anticipated, but I hope you enjoy
It was the warm hands she felt first; fingertips brushing lightly down her spine. Then it was weather-dried lips that followed. They hold an almost shy air to them as they hover over her pulled and puckered skin. He wasn’t scared to show affection, and he knew the touch wouldn’t be rejected, but these scars hang over his head as much as the ones he bares on his cheek.
Eskel’s lips travel from the lowest mark that was over the last right rib, stopping three places, and ending over the left shoulder. It was the worst of them all. There was a crater where smooth skin and lean muscle used to be. Under shirts it isn’t noticeable, but nobody who was there could ever forget the sight.
An arrow lodged itself into Y/n’s collarbone from behind, splintering off into multiple directions. Just when they had thought they got all the pieces out, another piece of stone would be found. The rest had luckily been clean, but due to the close range of the shot, it had been messy. Yennefer is a great sorceress, but even when it comes to magic, Triss had always been more medically inclined. But the chestnut-haired woman wasn’t there. Eskel and Y/n were lucky to even have Yen.
The two lovers had gotten back to Kaer Morhen earlier than expected. The year prior, there was a deal made between the head carpenter of Vespaden to have extra supplies picked up for fort repairs. So, instead of heading South, they stayed North of the Pontar, eager to help try and repair the place their hodgepodge family calls home. Y/n had become used to The Killer, and they had decided it was better to drop off their regular supplies at the fort, so they’d have an extra free cart to use.
Laying in wait was a bandit camp. They had the forethought to be ready if a Witcher was still alive and had wanted to come back for some reason. What the bandits hadn’t expected, was a witcher and a companion returning to a mostly functional home. Three men ambushed the Witcher as two more sprung out from the shadows.
Arrows went flying and swords were crossed, but in the end, it was the flying hilt of a sword that brought Eskel down. The bauble smashed into his eyebrow, the pain rocketing through his eye socket, and rattling him to the core. It was a blur to him until it was too late. Y/n had finished with settling the animals for the night, coming in as the man hit the ground.
Before Eskel had even tried courting Y/n, Vesemir had made sure she knew basic self-defense. He could see that she would be sticking around the family, but he knew there was nothing scarier to a Witcher than a human. Or more importantly, a human lover. They could be there one minute and gone the next. Even if they do have long, natural lives, it is only a fraction of what a Witcher lives.
Two of the ambushing bandits had been thrown on their ass, but Y/n disengaged the second an arrow was drawn but pointed down to the Witcher on the ground. He was clearly trying to get up, but Eskel couldn’t even get his eye to focus, let alone stand or defend himself. She used her wet pants to her advantage across the cold tiled floor as she slid towards him. Her arms and body encompassed a majority of his much larger frame and the arrows were let loose.
Pain bloomed throughout her back, but it was a shout from the entrance that took all of Y/n’s attention. The bard had let out a shout as he and Yennefer entered. Magic was thrown, and Geralt had followed the shout.
As the Witcher’s lips hover over the old wound, he remembers the fear he felt as his vision came back to him that day. All he could see in his arms was his lover and her blood. If he had just been a little faster. A little stronger. If he was better at being the thinghe was changed into, the one thing he was good for, then maybe Y/n wouldn’t carry these burdens. The last time he messed up, when he tried defying destiny, he received penance. Eskelis the one to wear the burden, scars presenting proudly the cowardice he once had. Again, Eskel had felt he had made a mistake, but he can’t carry this.
It was only after Y/n shifted on the bed to look at him did he come out of his head space.
“So, are you going to kiss me? Or are you going to glare at me all night?” Soft, sunset eyes crinkle in confusion. With a slight tilt of her head, she points to the mirror on the far wall that perfectly framed the two. “I don’t blame you.” Y/n’s voice was soft in delivery, but it was firm with truth. Eskel pulls back, thumb brushing over the edge of the welt on the hill of her shoulder.
“I know.” That too was soft, but mechanical. He has heard it countless times, been told in thousands of different ways, but he can’t shake it. Hell, he can hear the truth in her heartbeat, smell the trust that has a resemblance of warm bread wafting off her skin. Y/n releases the softest of sighs as she finally wiggled on her shirt. She then stood and demanded the world to shrink to just the two of them. Her now demanding air suggesting that whatever she was about to say should be considered law. Hands were on hips, and Y/n even bent at the waist slightly to try and tower over her lover. It was similar to a hardheaded adult trying to convince a child that eating vegetables isgood, or watching Lambert conduct any kind of conversation.
“Do you? Because it seems to me that you somehow found another backwater way to blame yourself.” Eskel huffed, sliding back to the edge of the bed, casting his concentration to putting on his boots. He was more emotionally inclined than his brothers, but this was one of the few topics he bristled on. The Wolf was used to living a life hiding behind the large signs that say, ‘vicious, brutal, do not enter’. It was still centuries easier to shut down then to try and work through it. “It was my idea to volunteer for us to get supplies. And if we hadn’t gotten there first, it could have been someone else that got hurt. Yen is powerful, but it was an ambush. What could have happened to our good friend Jaskier? Geralt was outside, and the bard hates violence. While Yen is busy dealing with three others, she couldn’t possibly look out for him too-.”
“That’s not it.” Eskel’s voice has a certain huskiness to it that gives his interjection an almost growly tone. He stops because of it, taking his time to breath. He swallows a few times, still tentative and worried that one day his voice could insight fear into his lover like it had countless to people before. Despite the years they’ve spent in each other’s arms, there are some insecurities Eskel could never shake. He continues when the first boot is finally tied. “I couldn’t protect you, and that is my job. No, not just my job. It is the one thing I would put above everything else, and I still couldn’t handle it.” Despite the Witcher not looking at her, she stared into the side of his head like he was.
“Love is a two-way street, Esk. It’s not just your ‘job’ or ‘desire’ to protect me. It’s mine too. I am willing to make every sacrifice to make sure you’re okay.” The words, ‘but I don’t deserve it’ are on the tip of his tongue, but he knew if he said that, they’d never get to this celebration that they were already late to. Y/n stops, arms going limp at her sides. She slowly makes her way around the corner of the bed, stopping between his open legs. A soft hand slowly nudges under his chin, suggesting he look at her. It takes a moment, but his sun-kissed stare finally meets her own. “In the end, it comes down to me loving you. That’s why it happened. And nobody can be blamed for loving someone. Unless you’re going to start admitting that you’re funny, kind, charming and soft, this is just something that you can’t carry. If you’re willing to admit that you’re perfect- and not just in my eyes, then I will allow you to blame yourself. Blame yourself for being someone people want to protect. With even their own life.” Y/n watched as sadness and fatigue started to creep into his eyes.
“But I’m not! I’m not somethingpeople should want to protect. I have thoughts and feelings, but at the end of the day, I am just another monster used to take out other monsters. Once this long lasting glamor wears off, you’ll see it too.” He could smell that fresh bread of love boil with the harsh acid of anger for just a moment before a simple ‘okay’ was heard as her response. Y/n let her hand slip from his face as she slowly dropped to her knees in front of him. She lifted his booted foot to her bare thigh, and her fingers practically danced as she unlaced it. Eskel huffed once again, already feeling tired before the night had even begun, despite the nice day off the two shared in bed. “What are you doing?” His voice sounded small, and it took everything in her power not to back down, and to try to get her point across without breaking.
“I’m taking your shoe off.” It takes until she started to pry his socks off before again, he voices himself.
“We have a celebration to go to.” Y/n looks to him ad shrugs. He could tell her mask of indifference was false, but he was still confused as to where she was going with it.
“No, we don’t. Not technically.” Her hands do stop though, their grip firm against his ankle and calf. “If you’re a monster, then so is Geralt.” Eskel was too shocked to fully register the meaning, eyes going wide.
“What did you just say?” He watched her drop eye contact, looking back down at his sock. Her slip-clad form giving a half-hearted shrug before continuing in an ignorant tone.
“Well, considering everyone makes mistakes, you couldn’t have been referring to that when calling yourself a monster. Especially since I make mistakes, and I certainly don’t think I’m a monster. So, you must mean being a Witcher means being a monster. And this celebration is for the engagement of said monster- and youhave made it abundantly clear that nobody could ever love a monster-.”
“Geralt is different-.” Y/n’s head snaps to face Eskel once more, eyes sharper than any dagger- clearer than any mirror. It puts Eskel under a spell that he wants to pull away from but couldn’t even if he tried. The raw need for trust and belief pouring from the woman in front of him is choking the Witcher. Like he’s drowning, but knows he never learned how to swim.
“No. It’s not. I could give you the rest of my life to let you tryand think of all the ways it is, knowing it’s futile. Because you won’t find any. It’s true I won’t live forever. But I will spend every second of the time I have loving you. And even when I’m gone, I won’t be. I’ll be in your heart, your dreams. I’ll never truly leave you. I don’t want to. And at the end of the day, I can continue loving you while still breathing, I consider that a win. I don’t want to spend our time wallowing on the ‘close calls’ of the past. End is inevitable. But we don’t have to be looking at a bigger picture. Let’s just be two people in love, going to celebrate their brother’s engagement. Dance a little, drink a little. Go to sleep in each-other’s arms and wake up to a new day.”
Eskel simply stared. What was he to say? There have only been a few other times in his longer life that he’s felt his soul concede, knowing it has lost. This could be added to the short list. The brunette knew now that he would never win this argument. Or probably any argument in the future. For a moment, he got angry at himself. Angry for not seeing that dwelling on this truly did chip away at their time together. But dwelling on thatshouldn’t now become the issue.
Y/n must have read his features as she gives a soft smile and starts returning his sock. Like before, words got stuck in his throat, but the simple, ‘I’m sorry,’ wouldn’t budge. His hands cover hers, and her eyes flick to his to deliver a quick wink. She let him take over the task and got up from her spot to put on the dress laid on the bed. Before she stepped away, she brushed a quick kiss to the quirk of his upper lip and giving him another smile.
I miss Star Trek fandom from time to time but I really miss it around this time of year. It was my only fandom that had (almost) canon Jewish characters and it made me feel so warm and Seen that the fandom embraced that and made all kinds of cute fanart and fanfic that included reference to Hanukkah when everyone else was solely focused on Christmas. All my recent fandoms have been so heavily fantasy based that I can’t really reasonably headcanon stuff like that anymore ):
I’ve been thinking about this quite a lot tonight. As far as introducing Jewish traditions into a fantasy setting, well, why not? If you can’t find yourself reflected in a specific setting, there’s nothing wrong with adjusting the mirror.
In more specific terms, how about a witcher Hanukkah tradition?
It’s a tradition from back before there were all the different witcher schools, back when there was only the Order of Witchers. The Order kept a beacon burning at all times to guide their brothers still on the Path home. To let the beacon go out was to extinguish hope that these brothers would return home at all. The beacon burned without problem for many, many years.
One terrible winter, during a blizzard, the Order ran out of fuel for the beacon. They were trapped by the wind and the snow. No one was able to leave to get any more fuel while the storm raged. And the poor witchers—their hearts collectively broke at the thought of the beacon going out, of seeming to forget those who weren’t with them, but what could they do? Past a certain point, they had nothing they could spare for fuel for the beacon.
And the storm raged. And the beacon…burned.
It burned day after day, and the witchers were beside themselves in disbelief. They didn’t dare check on how this was happening because, well, witchers are fundamentally practical and the beacon was doing better without their interference. But every day, they waited for the flame to gutter. They waited, dreading the moment it would go out.
It didn’t.
Finally, after eight days, the storm subsided and they were off like a shot to get fuel, because, well, witchers are fundamentally practical and they know better than to press their luck. Every moment they didn’t have fuel was a chance for the beacon to go out.
Much to everyone’s relief, the beacon was still burning when they brought the fuel home. They fueled the beacon and it burned like it had done for the last eight days. It burned just like it had in all the days before that.
Time went on and the Order fractured into schools. The beacon doesn’t burn anymore. But the witchers never forgot.
During the wintering season, for eight days, a candle is lit in Kaer Morhen. One for every day the old beacon burned without fuel to bring their ancient brothers home.
That’s the story Vesemir told Geralt and Eskel every winter, when they were small. That’s the story Geralt told Ciri. That’s the story they were telling each other when Lambert got banned from lighting the candles ever again because “apparently, igni from across the room and two floors up is frowned upon in this establishment.”
