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Since the revelation of Jaskier’s not so human nature - and really, how blind they have been - the wolf witchers stopped pretending the quite frankly, massive man is any sort of fragile and started including him in their training sessions.
Eskel is still in disbelief that not one but two witchers were fooled so easily by the bear witcher for a whole damn week. Now that he looks at him better, he sees the harsh lines only witcher training can leave on one’s body, he sees the faint scars that adorn this- this mountain of a man, no doubt accumulated by years upon years on the Path.
Speaking of Jaskier, he somehow managed to infuriate Lambert with a clever little ditty he’s been muttering under his breath the whole day, which led to Lambert leaping on his back and hanging from there, feet dangling and all, while Jaskier simply continued to sweep the grand hall of Kaer Morhen unphased by the extra weight.
Well, until at least, Lambert decides to move his arm around Jaskier’s throat who in return yelps in surprise and drops to the ground in an attempt to free himself from Lambert’s clutch.
It’s entirely amusing to watch, as the scuffle turns into a brawl, but after a while, when it’s evident that the Bear Witcher has the upper hand and is toying with the youngest Wolf, Eskel knows that it won’t be long since Lambert gets serious. And well, when Lambert gets serious there are usually bombs involved and Eskel would like the dining hall to remain intact, thank you.
In a true display of raw power, right when Eskel sees the gleam of danger in Lambert’s eye, Jaskier lifts the wolf-witcher, drops him on the carpet, and lays atop of him to stop him from moving.
“You’re bloody mad!” Lambert squawks, and tosses around as much as one can toss around when a mountain of a man is laying on them.
“Oh-ho! Should have thought it sooner, Bert,” Jaskier laughs loud and obnoxiously, “Before you attempted to run for your bombs.”
“You are crazy,” Lambert half-whines and half-shrieks, “I know better than to set off my precious bombs for someone like you.”
Bullshit. Eskel can tell when Lambert is lying and this is absolutely the case here. Jaskier however, seems to buy into the bluff, but for Lambert’s bad luck he gets horribly offended for some reason, and yelps indignantly moving to press his knee between Lambert’s shoulderblades. With a strong hand, he keeps Lambert’s head firmly on the ground and with the other he holds Lambert’s arms tied behind his back.
“Rude, wolf,” Jaskier growls deep and guttural, and it’s a sound that Eskel didn’t think the otherwise jovial man was capable of producing. “I’m worthy of your bombs,” says the bard-witcher and Eskel has to physically restrain himself not to laugh.
Of all the things to be offended about…
Eskel takes a deep breath to calm himself and marches towards the duo engaged in a pointless fight, a stern expression plastered on his face, “You both behave like children,” he says, “If you’re gonna fight let’s do it in a proper spar at least. Not right next to our food,” he points to the set table. “Have a little respect.”
“No, no, let them fight,” Coen looks up from the book he’s been reading, perched on an armchair further into the hall, “it’s amusing.”
“Nah, Eskel’s right,” Jaskier concedes and rises to his feet, offering a hand to Lambert, “Let’s take it outside, Bert. Bombs and everything. I’ve been meaning to practice my Heliotrope.”
Lambert’s expression turns from furious to confused to utter glee in the span of two seconds.
Oh, boy. They’ll have to clean rubble from the courtyard after this, won’t they?