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    Summary

    It was the same and it was different. Quiet wasn’t enforced but welcomed between them as they shared the same space. After a long day of singing old shanties ensured to bring soft chuckles and smiles to the wolf witcher's face, Jaskier and Eskel would move together wordlessly to get themselves settled in for the night. Jaskier had never known a routine to feel so comfortable. He’d never known just how much warmth a soft summer’s evening could bring, nor the combined sensuality of feeling appreciated and capable. Traveling with Eskel felt like all the warmth in the world was channeled directly into his chest, its rays working to eradicate any fears and worries wrapping themselves between his ribs. Jaskier had imagined the warmth—maybe deliriously, and maybe more than once—as Eskel’s treasured little pygmy goat, lil’ bleater, munching on the blackberry barbs buried in his bones. He may have had yet to meet her, but he felt the goat sounded like an honest representation of his runaway feelings. 

     

    Jaskier loves Eskel and he loves words. Jaskier would also do anything for the gentle wolf.

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