#eskelxoc

What school is he from? Cats and vipers were dangerous, both schools cut-throat havens, less likely to help a sentient magical creature and more likely to kill first and ask questions later at the first signs of non-human traits. Wolves and griffins tended to be more code-bound and willing to listen. Her eyes narrowed in on his chest. She was in luck-- a wolf medallion peeked out of the collar of his open gambeson, laying on the cream of his shirt. I won’t even have to bother with proper manners, she thought to herself, remembering the last time she’d dealt with a witcher from the school of the griffin. 

What’s his personality; which method would work best to get what she wanted? She knew that Kaer Morhen had been sacked, had heard rumors of who and when, even out in the wilderness. But surely some books had survived. She hadn’t been successful in gaining entry to the keep proper in her youth, but this could be her second chance. What sequence of events would more likely get her invited to Kaer Morhen and access to the library there? 

The man seemed soft spoken; his voice could easily be a booming baritone, but he kept his voice quiet and calm to not spook the women in the town square. He was kind and friendly and polite, even smiling and saying ‘thank you,’ when he bought supplies in the open market. He tried to be as non-threatening as possible, as well, trying to make himself less of an obstruction in the throngs of people in town and pulling his large arms to himself instead of letting them hang loosely by his sides. He’d even stooped to help a woman pick up her fallen goods, though it had gotten him a scowl and a barked ‘hands off!’ Perhaps a spot of friendliness to warm him up to her, break down the walls that no doubt he had constructed over the years, then switch to some seduction. 

Her eyes roamed over him, eyeing up the deep facial scars, the bit of white tooth visible where the scar tissue pulled (adorable); to his strong forearms of corded muscle, bare to the elbow with veins snaking along his golden skin; up to his silky, dark hair that ruffled in the breeze; and finally to the crotch of his pants, where there were little red bows keeping a codpiece in place. Seducing him,  she thought to herself with a purr, poofing up her feathers and preening them some, would be no hardship. A handsome lay and the knowledge she’d been seeking since she was young? No better deal would ever come her way. Just keep the long game in mind, Lae’elan, and this could be it. Finally feeling she had enough information and having made up her mind, Lae’elan fluttered down to land quietly among the leaf litter behind the tree the witcher sat propped up against, her tiny feet making a bit of a ruckus. Muscles popping and bones creaking, she shifted into her true form. Or, well, most of it. She’d need to know him a bit better before she deigned to show him her wings. She pulled clothes out of the ether of her pocket dimension and over her head with less than half a thought. Vulpine legs peeked out beneath a woad-blue dress, as did her long succubus-like tail. Before she’d even taken a full step to the side, she heard the witcher reaching for his swords and decided she’d best show herself before he put one of them through her. Just because it wouldn’t kill her didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.

“That spot taken?” Lae’elan asked as she rounded the tree, her hands visible in the air beside her head, one clawed finger pointing to the space on the other side of the fire. There was indeed a sword leveled at her, a cross witcher standing at the other end. She hadn’t even registered the sounds of him getting up. Looking down at the sword, she found he got more interesting. Steel. He assumed human or common beast. Huh.

“How did you-!” His eyes darted around behind her for a flash second. 

“Sneak up? Shapeshifter. I was a bird a few minutes ago,” she said breezily, even pointing to the branch she’d been perched upon. Smartly, he did not look. Well trained. Eyeing the blade poised at her neck, she continued, “Could you put the blade away from my neck? Don’t need you to put it away, just… preferably not immediately pointed at my jugular would be lovely,” She smiled kindly. 

He eyed her warily, but lowered the blade a fraction. This close she realized his eyes were actually just a shade or two deeper than her own. They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. He seemed to not hate what he saw because the sword lowered another few inches. 

“Just want to sit, maybe chat.”

His eyes narrowed warily and his gaze wandered over her. The horns atop her head, the long ears, her golden eyes, sharp canid-like teeth, fingers ending in curved claws instead of human fingernails. The gears working in his head, trying to make sense of what she was, were visible in his expression. Wouldn’t we all like to know, she thought. 

“Why?” he asked, finally.

“Why wha-at?” 

“Why chat,” he buried the tip of his sword in the dirt, acquiescing, and sat. She stepped around the fire and settled herself on the other side.

“Why does anyone chat?” She asked, but quickly followed, “Because it’s exceedingly rare to find someone I can be myself around in these times. Humans can be decent conversation, but they tend to be sticklers for shoes,” she looked to her feet-- her paws-- and wiggled her toes, “and too often make remarks I’m not fond of. Same ones you no doubt prefer not to hear as well.” He just looked at her over the fire. 

“I’ll be honest, I’ve spent half my day following you today, trying to figure out if you were safe or not,”

“And you’ve decided…?”

“That you’re safe enough,” she chuckled. She’d get a proper conversation out of him yet. 

“Oh?”

“Never known a wolf to attack on sight,” she nodded to his medallion, “and you were kind and gracious to each person I saw you interact with,” she continued. Waiting for a response, but not wanting to push, she looked into the fire and drew her legs to the side, leaning her weight on one hip.

“I would have noticed if a single bird had followed me all day,” he grunted. That wasn’t quite what she expected as a reply, but it showed intelligence and caution. 

“A dog, two birds, and a squirrel” she replied.

“What?”

“I was a dog in the market, a sparrow in the town square, a squirrel on your way out of town and into the forest, and a chickadee for the past hour,” she looked to his eyes to gauge his reaction, “I’m no spring chicken. Reconnaissance is important to my staying alive, let alone having fulfilling conversations.” He paused after that, seemingly looking at the fire, but she knew that he was watching her in the edge of his vision. He was chewing over the fact that she had so many forms. Not many things could change into even three forms, let alone potentially the five he’d have been able to spot today. 

“And what, little stalker, do you propose we talk about?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on the tree. She ignored the jab. 

“Pretty much anything other than children-” she spotted the minute twitch of his eye, “Whatever you want to talk about, really, as long as I can keep my tail out,” she flicked her hairless, red-black tail for emphasis, “Gets itchy if I’m in this form for long without it,” 

“Don’t know of any kind of shapeshifter that can do that many forms in such a short period,” he squinted at her. She tried to hide that that made her crestfallen. His eyes darting around her face said she hadn’t done a very good job. Just because he doesn’t know off the top of his head doesn’t mean the library doesn’t have something, she reminded herself. Sighing, she replied honestly,

“Other than me, neither have I,”

“What are you?” he asked, not unkindly, losing the wary, almost clinical tone he’d had. Of course honesty would be what got him. She should have predicted that. 

“I’ve no idea,” she answered, a bit quietly, surprising herself at the admission. He scratched his scar absentmindedly. Lae’elan wondered if it was terribly itchy or if his scratching was just a nervous tic.

“Don’t know, or won’t tell?”

“Don’t know. Honestly. Earliest memory is at a temple of Melitele for children, the office specifically, but the sisters told me I’d been left on the front stoop in the night,” Again, she was spilling truths freely. If it gets you closer to him, what’s it matter? Gets you closer to that library? He raised his eyebrows, but shrugged. 

“And you can just…”

“If I can figure out how it works, or might work, I can turn into it,”

“And that’s your face?” She rolled her eyes at the question. 

“Not a doppler. Here, I’ll prove it,” she said, sitting up straighter so she could reach around the fire, hand out loosely, palm towards the ground. As if she were a maiden offering her hand to a suitor to kiss. Nodding to his sword in its sheath at his side, she continued “Touch your silver to my hand,” When he didn’t do it immediately, she nudged her hand forward again and tilted her head to the sword, looking him dead in the eye, urging him to just do it. He tilted his head curiously, but unsheathed it. Moving slowly, he placed the flat of the blade on her hand without hesitation. There was, as she knew there would be, no sizzling of flesh. Just cool metal on a dainty, pale hand. Slowly, he turned the blade so that the edge sat atop her hand, but not enough pressure to cut. He piqued one eyebrow in askance. Lae’elan sighed, but nodded, and he immediately made a shallow slice. Her nose wrinkled a bit at the sting, but nothing happened. No hissing of melting doppler flesh. He wiped the blood off the blade onto his pants and replaced it in its sheath. 

“I can do faces, but to do so makes me… uneasy. Like an out of body experience, but the bad kind a human might have as a poor reaction to some drug. Ah, there’s a word for it…” she trailed off before licking at the cut on her hand to get rid of the blood and watching the sliced flesh knit itself back together. 

“Dissociation?” the witcher filled in before she had to think much. He eyed her hand curiously. 

“That’s it exactly!” she nodded, “Most I ever change is my nose. Other than, you know, making myself look human,” she circled her face with a finger, drawing attention to the obvious non-human features. He snorted at the obvious gesture. She huffed a chuckle back.

“Eskel,” he said, suddenly.

“Hm?”

“My name. I’m Eskel,”

“Oh!” she said, pleased, “Lae’elan,” she stuck out a hand to shake. He gently took the hand in his and shook it once. His hands are so much bigger than mine, she thought briefly before-

“Odd name. It’s not a-”

“It’s a bastardized attempt at a human making up an elven name. The sisters thought I was an elf,” she said, flicking one of her long ears, “They were shorter then, and I hadn’t grown a tail or horns or paws or wings at that point. Those didn’t come till later,”

“You looked-? Wait. Wings?” He looked at her shoulder, as if trying to see if he had missed something on her back. He was tilting his head to the side again, like a puppy. Melitele it’s more endearing every time he does it. 

“I have wings as well, but I don’t show those off until I really trust someone,” she explained, looking around the tiny clearing, “Besides, it’s a wee bit cramped for them to stretch out here.” The witcher-- Eskel, she corrected herself-- looked about the patch of dirt.

“They must be quite big, then,” 

“Big, unwieldy, and very sensitive to curious hands if you get my meaning.” He made an ‘ah, I see’ face and seemed a tad embarrassed. She wondered if the old tales of witchers not being able to blush was true, and if it wasn’t, would he be blushing now? Ah shit, maybe we do need to be less crass with this one afterall, she scolded herself. 

“But enough about what I can and can’t do, Eskel,” she laughed, and found she rather liked the sound of his name on her tongue, “Surely there’s something more interesting to talk about. Witcher like you must have some good stories or unique interests to talk about,”

“What are you, my brother’s bard?” He griped, smiling ever so slightly. The shapeshifter just raised an eyebrow. 

“Ah, my brother’s the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia.” Another blank stare. 

“The famous witcher? The bard Jaskier, his songs, they’re all about him?”

“You’ll have to forgive me,” she began, “I.. don’t come out into human society very often, and when I do I tend to stay away from the more gossipy crowds. I’m afraid I have no idea who or what you’re talking about,”

“Oh,” he looked a bit startled at the fact she was so out of the loop, but the look melded into a bit of bashfulness, “Well then I suppose I feel a bit honored to have been your choice of companion, then,” he said, smiling lightly before gathering his thoughts.

“My brother, Geralt, has bright white hair and is known for not staying out of the affairs of men as we’re meant to. He met a bard, that’s Jaskier, who latched on to Geralt’s pantleg and became rather famous as his barker. Has an entire song cycle about Geralt,” and, mumbling quieter than a human could hear, “You’d think that it wouldn’t take Ger 20 bloody years to figure out the kid is as in love with him as he Jaskier.” She couldn’t help but snort loudly, surprised at the comment. Eskel’s eyes shot up to her. She flicked her ear again. 

“You’ll have to remember I’m not human. Ears are big for a reason. I can likely hear better than even you,” she laughed again, “20 years?”

“Longer, 20 years of pining before they finally got their heads out of their asses and realized,” 

“Fuck, even I’m not that bad. Longest I’ve lasted is two years before giving in,”

“Yeah, well. It’s different when you're a witcher,” he said, mood souring.

“Oh?”

“We live a long time. You watch everyone around you grow old, die, their kids die. Even if you decide watching them die is worth it, being with a witcher is sure death, whether it comes from exposure to the elements, a monster getting them, or a vindictive witcher-hater,” 

“It’s not worth the experience of love? Of companionship?”

“They’ve decided it is,” he said, poking the fire with a stick, “Others? Me? I’m not so sure,”

They sat in silence for a minute, Lae’elan watching him as he moodily poked the sticks around.

“Eskel, how old do you think I am,” She asked, curious. He looked up sharply before looking her up and down. 

“20… 30?” she scratched his scar again, “I have trouble telling with humans,” She laughed softly, thinking of times long, long gone. 

“Try somewhere around 250, my dear,” she smiled and looked him in the eye, her own head tilting to the side now. If she didn’t impart anything on him but this, it might be worth it anyway, “And I have to agree with your brother and his bard. It’s worth it. Even if it kills a part of you when they go, it’s worth it.” He stared into her eyes for a minute, looking for something. 

“I’m… sorry,” he said quietly, turning his head to look at the ground to the side of the fire. 

“It’s ok. 80 years does a lot of healing,” her smile was sad, but brightening as she took up his idle mantle and poked the fire with a stick, prodding to move a bit that had fallen so that the fire could breathe better. 

“250?” he asked, looking her over again, “Really?”

“Somewhere between that and 260, I’d guess. Some bits get hazy on the years what with being a hermit for years at a time, and, well, I don’t know how old I was when I turned up at that orphanage,” she shrugged, “Apparently I looked to be about three, but when I ran away four years later, when I should have been 7, I looked closer to 11. My aging’s rather fucked up. So… my age is a mystery just like the fucking rest of me.” Her stomach chose that moment to growl lightly.

“I’ll go-”

“You can check those snares I saw you set up,” she cut in, rising to her feet and stretching her arms above her, “But I can catch my own food,” 

“I wouldn’t… I mean I didn’t-” He began. She chuckled. 

“I know you wouldn’t try to poison me or assume I can’t hunt for myself, Eskel, I just enjoy catching my own meals too much to let someone else.” With that, she shifted, her bones snapping into new forms, her russet hair turning into pale cream and brown fur, until a wolf wrestled its way out of her dress. She took off like a shot into the undergrowth, but not before noting Eskel’s discomfort at the sight. Have to unpack that later, she thought as she bounded in the direction she’d heard a deer about half an hour ago. 

Eskel brought himself back to the world an hour before sunrise proper. The urge to just run and avoid the shapeshifter flitted through his mind as he looked across the banked firepit at her sleeping, thankfully humanoid, form. He shook the thought away, running a hand through his hair. No, she’d been nothing but kind and good conversation; she deserved a good-bye at the very least. 

Don’t run from a good thing like Wolf did, he scolded himself. She wanted to stay with him. Why, he had no clue. Surely he wasn’t that good of a conversation partner, he reiterated his thoughts from the night before. 

Leaving the clearing and walking a few paces, Eskel moved behind a bush to relieve himself. He considered how quickly he was adapting to having a campmate that was not one of his brothers. He’d immediately offered to hunt for her, had done his best to entertain her, and now he was not only leaving the clearing to piss, but also hiding himself from her potential gaze to preserve modesty while he had his dick out. It had been shockingly easy. He remembered Geralt complaining at how annoying it had been to get accustomed to camping with Jaskier. 

Don’t get used to it. She’ll leave you soon enough. Her proposal. What was he going to say? She’ll want an answer soon as she wakes, no doubt. What could she possibly want tagging along. Must have some ulterior motive.

But what if she doesn’t? What if she only wants some companionship like she says? What then? Do I want someone trailing along beside me? He made his way back, head more full of questions than when he left. 

Rummaging through the saddlebags slung over a hefty branch to find the jerky he’d stashed, he considered his next move. 

Last night was nice, he conceded, breaking his fast. He watched her for a minute, her breaths even and the rise and fall of her chest calming. I’ll ask what she’s after. Besides, she’s not like Jaskier; can probably hold her own, protect herself. He realized he’d just argued in her favor. Wiping a hand down his face, he wondered if this was how Geralt had felt like in Dol Blathanna all those years ago. 

A rustle, and an uptick in heart rate and breathing. Eskel would get his answers soon enough; Lae’elan was waking. 

She roused with a large yawn, not bothering to cover her mouth with its curling tongue and sharp teeth. Blearily, she noticed Eskel looking at her, arms crossed as he stood leant against a tree. 

“Mornin’ Eskel,” she smiled, rubbing her eyes before shaking her head like a dog. Her long ears made a plap plap plap noise as they bent and slapped against her head. She looked much more alert now. 

“Mmmm there, that’s more like it,” she said, getting to her feet, “So did you think about my offer?” she asked, stretching out her back with arms over her head. Eskel watched her and hummed. 

“And your answer?” she asked, rolling her eyes fondly. 

“What do you want tagging along with a witcher?” She sighed at his question as he eyed her suspiciously. 

“I come out of nature every so often, typically for a single day to get my fill of actual conversation. Normally,” she said, taking a few steps towards him and crossing her own arms, “I’m stuck talking to closed-minded humans about mundane shit and politics,” she winced at the word with obvious distaste, “Normally, I have to hide what I am. Normally, I’m sick of humanity after just a few hours and I fuck back off to wander the woods as a creature. You, Eskel, you’re interesting, I can be myself, and, most of all, you’re kind,” she finished, shrugging. He narrowed his eyes further. 

“Look, I’m not saying I want to stick to you forever like your brother’s bard; I’ll get sick of having hands and human niceties just as I always do,” She wiggled her fingers for emphasis. Eskel couldn’t stop the snort that escaped at that. “I’m just intrigued that I don’t find myself sick of them yet. That hasn’t happened in quite some time,”

“You know travelling with me would be dangerous. I don’t skate around the monsters; I head straight for them. And you’d be expected to pull your weight.” She laughed, tilting her head back. 

“Monsters don’t scare me, witcher. I’m sure I’ve likely killed almost as many as you and without getting paid. And it would be no more dangerous than my normal existence,” she chuckled, coming closer again. She noted that Eskel straightened up a bit. “And like last night, I wouldn’t dream of mooching. You’d be surprised at how much I can do for you. I’m a shite cook, but I can hunt bigger game much easier than you in a quarter of the time, and find roughage on top of that. Could keep you well fed. I can mend and embroider passably if you supply materials. I can keep watch if needs be, act as a nursemaid if you get hurt, and hell, if you wanted a break I could probably either help with big hunts or just outright do your small contracts for you. You can even keep the coin; I’ve no need for it, that’s for sure,” she finished, making sure to leave out the option of being his bedwarmer as well. She didn’t want to push too much after last night. 

“Sounds too good to be true,” Eskel pushed himself off the tree, “Means it most likely is. What’s in it for you?” he jutted his chin out at her. 

“Companionship from the first interesting person I’ve met in years, a little extra adventure…” she said. Eventually the information I’ve been searching for my whole life over, she thought. Ah fuck, she couldn’t help it. “And honestly, there are a few other benefits,” she smirked, eyeing him up and down. She hoped that the flirting covered up the lurch in her heart beat. “What can I say, you’re eye candy, and I don’t deny myself looking at pretty things,” she hummed. His nostrils flared, but not in anger. He was scenting her. She knew herself well enough to know he smelled the faint traces of lust coming off her. She was banking on it. He looked conflicted. Fuck, too far? she questioned herself.

“You keep… What’s so--” he grunted, frustrated with himself, with his difficulty voicing his thoughts. “Fine,” he sighed, “You can come with me, but I warn you, I bump elbows with humans quite often. Towns and cities alike.” He looked her up and down, still trying to figure her out, assessing her. 

“And at those junctures you’ll either be rid of me, or I can keep your horse company in the stable. I make a fine barn cat,” she smiled, approaching the big black warhorse. 

“Wait! He--” Eskel put out a hand to stop her, but she held her own towards Scorpion and he came sedately to her hand to be pet. Eskel was shocked. He barely let stableboys pet him after taking care of him for a few days. Lae’elan chuckled. 

“Another thing about me?” she said, petting down the stallion’s face, “Is that all animals love me.” Scorpion snorted, demanding more nose pets. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Eskel’s head tilt and his brows pull together, confused and bewildered. It was clear he’d been expecting a violent reaction.

“He-- He never-- He hates being pet by strangers. Can’t count how many times he’s bit stableboys,” he muttered. 

“With me, you’ll never be bothered by another wolf pack, bull moose, or rutting elk again,” she hummed, continuing her petting session but looking straight at Eskel. 

“Can you…”

“Talk to them? In a manner of speaking. I more… mentally order and they either acquiesce or get ornery before eventually giving in. Some creatures are more… suggestable,” she sighed, trying to collect thoughts in a sensical manner, “If you mean actually having a conversation.... Most animals communicate with body language. If I have the same body, I can speak their own tongue directly at them, easy. In a humanoid form, less so. I can alter my vocal chords for certain things that have more vocal elements of communication, like that crow last night, and for howling to wolves, and a few others. I sat my ass down and learned the vocal parts of the language fully for those.” Scorpion nipped at her hair and tugged and she laughed brightly. 

“Cheeky!” she hummed, petting him, “I think someone’s ready to go if you are.” She blew a raspberry at the horse and he knocked her with his massive head. She even allowed herself to be moved. 

At that, Eskel began loading up his horse, shaking his head in disbelievement. 

“So,” she began, “Where to?” They’d been on the road, walking in relative silence for a bit. Eskel eyed her paws from where he sat astride Scorpion.

“Nowhere in particular. Next town’s a few days away; check the notice board there,” He glanced down again. She was still very much not human. 

“You’re staring. Don’t worry, I’ll change as soon as I hear anyone coming,” she smiled up at him, “You don’t need to worry about me. No one’s caught me in decades. I’m careful,”

“Hence the stalking me for a day,” he joked, smiling. It wasn’t particularly comforting that she had been caught, period, but he supposed he was careful and had gotten ambushed all the same in the past.

“There’s your sense of humor! Knew you had one!” She kidded. Eskel smiled a tiny bit more at her jabbing back. “But yes, I’d rather not get hunted down and caged for a menagerie or a mage’s whims, so caution is my code.” His small smile made Lae’elan’s even brighter. She couldn’t help it; it was such a cute smile, and a good look on him. 

Eskel was amazed at how well she kept up with him, walking alongside the horse. She never seemed to get out of breath or slow, keeping perfect pace, her paws propelling her along quickly. She was sweating a fair bit, but then again, he was sweating some as well despite not exerting himself.

And she was alert and adept as she led on, too. She’d put a hand on his leg in the stirrup suddenly and he watched as she shifted, the horns and ears melding into a human form, her eyes dulling to a whiskey brown. Her paws turned to normal human feet, the toes peeking out from under the dress when she walked from his perspective. Others would likely see her whole foot, the skirt landing at about ankle height. The sight was discomfiting, though he couldn’t place why exactly. 

“What--”

“People. A cart,” she said, under her breath. He listened, but didn’t hear anything; the place where she’d touched him felt like it was buzzing. He realized it had been the first time she’d touched him. A few seconds and he heard them, the humans on a cart, from around the bend. 

Her hearing is better than mine, he realized, surprised. She was silent, not looking in their direction, only straight ahead. The merchants scowled at him as they passed each other, Eskel steering his single horse closer to the shoulder. He knew they could both hear the slurs and spitting coming from the occupants. He watched her, and saw she didn’t react until they were past, and only then a hardening of the eyes. Once they were a few minutes behind them, and they made no signs of following them, Lae’elan shifted back. Again, watching the change so closely made him uneasy, making his eyes ache as if he’d been staring at a book for hours.

“Try not to watch so much,” she suggested, catching him blink a few times, “Give you a headache if you watch too closely.”

At around noon, Eskel began to pull over into the trees at the side of the road. Dismounting, he asked,

“Don’t suppose those ears of yours hear water?” He couldn’t hear any himself. 

“Mmmm,” she hummed, listening for a second before pointing forward and to the right a bit. “Yep, not much, but there’s a trickle that-a-way,” Eskel looked a bit skeptically in the direction she pointed, and, focusing, he couldn’t hear the breathing or shifting of bandits, and so found no reason to doubt her. After a minute of leading Scorpion into the woods, he began hearing the sounds of water as well. 

They found it was a runoff from uphill, barely trickling down from a recent rain. Eskel was glad they’d filled canteens from the stream Lae’elan had found last night before they’d moved on, and that it wasn’t so hot that they’d drank much at all. The water was gritty with sandy dirt, but clean enough for the horse as he bent his head to drink. Eskel drank a bit, but elected to not waste time trying to refill the little space in his canteen. 

“Have to keep our ears out as we go along,” he grunted, standing. The shapeshifter was sipping, mouth to the water rather than using her hands, when the wind changed. Her head snapped up and a wide smile lit up her face. 

“What’s your opinion on raspberries?”

“Why?”

“You can’t smell ‘em?” she asked. He gave her a blank look. “Damn, alright, wait here. I’m gonna go get us some lunch,” she laughed, skipping off into the trees. 

Eskel laid back in the shade and watched the clouds, waiting. It couldn’t hurt; they were making good time. A few minutes later, he turned to the sound of twigs snapping and reached for his swords before stopping. He was getting to know her pleased giggle quite well, he realized as the shapeshifter broke through the cover of the trees. She was still in her base form, her dress pulled up to the length that would be mid-thigh level on a human to create a pouch. The pocket of fabric was heavy, laden with berries. Her fingers and lips, he noticed with a chuckle, were stained red and purple. He focused on that rather than the fact that he was rather close to seeing too much of her for his comfort. 

“Found some blackberries, too!” she said, sounding pleased as punch, “Here, help yourself! As you can see, I had a few already,” She hummed and plopped down next to him, thankfully obscuring her legs beneath the rest of her dress. 

“Quite a haul,” he noted, smiling as he took a handful of the black berries. Popping a few in his mouth, the tart-sweet taste burst on his tongue. They were warm from the sun. He hummed in enjoyment. 

“Raspberries are my favorite,” she admitted, shovelling a handful of the red fruit into her mouth and grinned, chewing, “Didn’t have breakfast like an idiot, so a roadsnack was overdue.”

“There’s no way you’re gonna eat all of those,” he shook his head, “You’ll make yourself sick,”

“You’d be surprised. Takes a lot to fill me completely. This,” she said, circling a finger around her hoard of fruit, “I can put away no problem.” She hoped he caught the double entendre. “I can eat half a deer in one sitting [i]easy.[/i] Both halves if I haven’t eaten in a day. But I did get a bunch of them for you, too. Wasn’t sure how much you could put away,” she shrugged, popping back another handful of mixed berries. Eskel was careful to take mostly blackberries, and found himself a little embarrassed at the realization he was leaving her favorites for her. 

“Eskel” It is a question. It is a statement. She has his face hovered in her hands.

“Yes” It is a question. It is a statement.

She stares at him. He stares back.

Space has folded; shrunk. Time has stilled; distorted.

It is obvious. It is a thesis unanswered.

Space has felled. Time is dead.

It is a greeting; benign. It is a confession; paramount.

She stares at darkness. He stares at pitch.