#witcher vesemir

[artistsfuneral]

"So you're just going to give up?" Vesemir's voice bellows across the courtyard, "Boy, I did not raise a quitter!"

Weirdly enough his anger calms Lambert.

"You did not raise me," he says, voice steady, "You trained me to do a job and I quit."

[aka-lorterian]

wolf³

[shy-urban-hobbit]

For the first time in a long time, Eskel wasn’t the first one back. It wasn’t surprising, apparently Geralt had arrived back a fortnight ago, anxious to be back with Ciri. The child was currently sat at one of the long tables, legs swinging as she drew in the blank journal Vesemir had given her whilst the adults talked amongst themselves. It was to be a welcome home present for her Uncle Eskel and therefore, she was determined to make it the best picture of her entire six years.

“I ran into Lambert a couple of months back.” Eskel said as he finished warming up by the roaring fire in the great hall after his climb up to Kaer Morhen, “He said he’s bringing his Cat with him this year.”

Vesemir nodded, “Meaning he’ll be coming from further South, so we should expect him a little later.”

Ciri looked up at that, “Uncle Lambert has a cat?”

“Hmm? Yes, Aiden.”  Geralt answered, attention still mostly on his brother.

Ciri gave an excited wiggle. Her grandmother had never allowed her to have a pet. The closest she’d come was the cat owned by one of the courtiers; a fat, fluffy thing with a squashed face named Pumpkin (something which had confused Ciri, considering the cat wasn’t orange). She imagined pulling a string for them to chase, sitting petting them whilst Uncle Eskel read to her from one of the storybooks he’d decided wasn’t too grown up for her like he had last winter. Maybe she’d be allowed to have them sleep in her room sometimes. Oh yes, Ciri couldn’t wait!

“Papa, where will Aiden be sleeping?” Ciri had looked all around the Keep and she couldn’t find anything resembling a cat bed. Not even a cushion like the one Pumpkin would spend all day sitting on.

“He usually shares with Lambert.” Geralt said, as he tucked her in, “He’ll have his own room too though. Just incase.”

Ciri blinked. The cat was going to have its own room, “Why?”

“He’s like anybody else. He likes to have his own space sometimes or he gets grumpy. You warm enough?”

She nodded, feeling her eyelids already starting to grow heavy, “Goodnight, Papa.”

“Goodnight, Cub.”

Ciri was perched on one of the kitchen counters, munching on a couple of carrot sticks Eskel had handed to her when a thought struck her, “Uncle Eskel, will Aiden have to catch and eat the rats?”

Eskel laughed loudly and had to pause in his vegetable chopping so he didn’t lose a finger, “You know, I only said that as a joke about your Uncle Lambert’s cooking, right? And no, Cub, there’s more than enough here for Aiden too. Nobody's going to go hungry.”

“Okay.” Ciri nodded and went back to her snack, satisfied with her answer she’d gotten.

 Geralt reported seeing smoke halfway down the mountain. Lambert would be home by tomorrow.

“Will Aiden like me?”

Pumpkin had hissed and scratched at her if she ever tried to pet him or play with him after all. Even though she was nice and never tried to pull his tail or anything like that.

Vesemir ruffled her hair, “He’ll love you, Cub. Just do as you do with everyone else here and take heed if he wants to be left alone, alright? Don’t go chasing him.”

“We were worried you wouldn’t make it.” Geralt said, embracing Lambert in a rough hug, not waiting for the other to shake the snow off his cloak and boots, “Thought we’d have to come down and dig you out. Aiden.” He extended a hand to the stranger, who grasped it tightly.

Ciri stared up at the man stood next to her uncle. The man her papa had called Aiden. He was a little shorter and leaner, but still tall with green eyes and a friendly smile, his curly black hair flecked with snow and tied back from his face.

“You’re not a cat.”

That drew their attention. Aiden cocking his head towards her with an “Eh?” whilst Geralt hissed her name in admonishment.

Ciri crossed her arms, “Papa, you all said Uncle Lambert was bringing a cat back.”

“Geralt, what is she-“

Aiden put a hand on Lambert's forearm, interrupting him,  “I think I see what’s happened.”

He crouched so he was level with the little girl, fighting to keep down his laughter lest she think it was directed at her and not the situation (Eskel had already lost that battle and had retreated to the kitchen), “I’m a Cat in the same way your Uncle Lambert’s a Wolf. That’s my school, see.” He held out his medallion for Ciri to get a good look at.

“There’s other Witcher schools?”

“A year here and she doesn’t know that. What the fuck have you actually been teaching her, old man?”

“Lambert, watch your language!”

Ciri turned big eyes on the group, “So, there’s no cat for me to play with?”

“Oh I wouldn’t say that, Cub. I’m always up for a round of hide and seek, and I bet you’ve found all the best hiding places by now.”

Ciri nodded, it was true. When she wasn’t at lessons with Grandpa Vesemir, she’d had a lot of time to explore.

Aiden gave her an easy grin, “Great.” He dropped his voice to a stage whisper, “You can show me the best places to hide from your Uncle. It’s always funny making him jump.”

Ciri giggled.

“Alright, back to your lessons now Ciri. Let Lambert and Aiden get settled.”

 Ciri took Geralt’s hand, letting him lead her to the library. They may have waited until Ciri was out of earshot, but Geralt heard all too clearly the Cats laughter and Jaskier-worthy exclamations about how she was “Too fucking adorable!”. Geralt smiled down at the little blonde head. Yes, she most definitely was.

[incorrect-accidental-warlord]

Vesemir: you should have known better! I expect more from each of you

Geralt:

Eskel:

Lambert: you’ve known us for years and you haven’t lowered your expectations yet? that’s on YOU

[stangalina]

Do you ever think about where the rumors about Witchers come from? I do.

"They rip babies from mother's bellies and eat them alive." Is obviously false, but where did it come from?

I think it was probably from a Witcher that performed a C-section.

Think about it. They have anatomical knowledge, and regularly get cut open and sew themselves back up. So it's not far fetched that they could perform surgery. And if a Witcher ran across a situation where a woman was giving birth and it wasn't going well? To the point that lives were on the line? They may well have interveined the only way they could.

They had good intentions of course, and maybe it worked and the baby lived, but the rumour mill spares none and the story of course got majorly out of hand. Eventually devolving into the "eating babies" bullshit.

But this opens the door for other surgery related stuff. Could they do other basic procedures?

Appendectomy? (The removal of an infected appendix)

Amputation?

Sutures?

The idea of Witchers proving medical care just makes me happy for some reason.

[slumberingcorpse]

Witchers love to play fight. It’s not a soft kind of fighting either, they growl, chase, tackle, claw, and bite as if they are going to kill each other. The only indication that they aren’t out for blood is their habit of sneezing while playing like dogs. Of course, everyone failed to mention that fact to poor Jaskier who freaks out as he watches Lambert and Geralt growl and bite at each other’s throats all the while Eskel and Vesemir continue their tasks as if nothing was happening.

“Don’t just stand there! Do something!” Jaskier pleads unsure how to separate the two.

“Relax Jask, they’re just playing,” Eskel says hearing sneezing from both sides.

“Like hell they are! They’re going to kill each other!” The bard cries giving Vesemir his irresistible puppy eyes, “Please make them stop. What if Geralt gets hurt?”

Sighing, Vesemir gets up and pulls Geralt off by the scruff of his neck, “Enough, you’re scaring the lark.”

“Aw, what!? We’re just playing! I was close to beating him too!” Lambert huffs annoyed (he was nowhere close to winning)

“In what world is that playing!?” Jaskier shouts rushing over to Geralt’s side.

[heraldofsomething]

The Battle of Kaer Morhen - (6/6) Vesemir's Death

You always were an unruly child... I adored that about you. Now, fly.

[essskel]

Do you see the vision

[wyrm-mlm]

Yooooo I just had an idea for a modern Witcher AU that has latched my brain and won’t let go so I gotta just get it out:

Kaer Mohren Animal Hospital

Geralt, Lambert and Eskel all grew up, adopted by Vesemir and somehow all became Veterinarians. Then they decided to open an animal hospital together

Eskel is usually who you see if you bring in a cat or dog, handling the general practice. He’s kind with animals and people alike, sitting with clients as long as it takes to make sure they understand everything.

Lambert takes care of exotics, the weirder the better to him. If Eskel’s schedule is tight he’ll examine a dog or two but he refuses to work with cats. They hate him, he’s sure.

Geralt is usually on the road, tending to livestock. Horses are his favorite of course, and he has some of his own. When he’s at the clinic he will see dogs and cats too.

Yennifer is the lead Tech. She’s hard on her techs but they all know she does it for the good of the animals. She’s not great with clients.

Triss is basically her right hand and takes over if it’s Yen’s day off. She’s great with people and is usually the one to take scheduled euthanasias. It takes a lot out of her but she pretends it doesn’t effect her.

Letho is the muscle, and usually tags along with Geralt to help restraint with larger animals. He tends to intimidate people in the clinic so he’s happy to stay on the road most the time.

Coen is also the muscle but tends to stay at the clinic as he’s better with people. He can get a mastiff on the surgery table with little help. Though it’s catching up to him and he has chronic back pain. He has a hard time asking for help. Yen tends to scold him for that.

Iorveth runs a wildlife rehabilitation center and often brings in things to Lambert. They have to make sure his appointments are on different days from Roche(who helps Foltest with his show and hunting dogs. Basically a glorified assistant.) or the two will argue for hours in the waiting room if they run into each other.

Jaskier fosters animals constantly (he has a big heart and a deep wallet, what can he say?) so he’s commonly bringing in dogs and cats and the occasional exotic to make sure that they are healthy and can be rehomed. He flirts with everyone. All the time. Also a lot of business comes from people who he refers to the clinic.

Aiden is another tech. He has a way with cats that no one else does. Even clients are surprised. A lot of cat owners ask for him by name because of it.

Gaetan is a kennel tech that wants to become a vet some day. He dreams of opening an all cat hospital and roped Aiden into the idea. Lambert thinks they’re crazy.

Vesemir used to be a large animal vet but now works the books for his boys.

Ciri is Geralt’s god child and dreams of becoming a zoo vet some day and spends most of her time not at school at the clinic with Geralt.

That’s all I got for now, may add to it. If anyone has suggestions or head canons let me know. Also PLEASE if this inspires fanart or fanfics tag me.

[mayasooong]

A commission of Vesemir and their OC 🥺🥺

Commissions are open if you want me to draw things for you guys (limited slots) ❤️

[artistsfuneral]

But where is the Bridgeton AU where widower Jaskier is one of the most desirable men in ton and since he's "playing" hard to get (he genuinely doesn't want to remarry but is polite enough to converse and dance with the marriage candidates and tjeir families) he's mainly looked at as a prize to win, a trophy, and then one evening standing at the sidelines of a ball, he meets the recently returned Commander Vesemir who's desperately trying to get his three (grown) sons to finally marry someone and what starts out as a pleasant conversation, turns into a dance, turns into two and by the end of the night Jaskier agreed to help Vesemir with his sons and oh no there's suddenly a lot of feelings involved??

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Five times the Witchers learnt just how cat-like Aiden actually is

Biscuit making - Lambert

Lambert stared down at his friend, eyebrows raised in silent question as Aiden dozed lightly, plastered to Lambert so they were snuggled chest to chest in the small inn bed. He'd gotten used to Aiden purring in his sleep when the Cat witcher felt safe (and Lambert tried not to linger too long on how that made him feel) long ago but this…this was new.

The hands resting on Lambert's chest were rhythmically gripping and releasing the material of his shirt in tandem, the pinprick scratch of long, tougher than average fingernails just enough to feel through the fabric. It wasn't uncomfortable as such, in fact once he got used to it, when paired with the soft, barely audible purr it was actually quite relaxing.

Soon enough, Lambert found himself being pulled into sleep, either not caring or not realising that he himself had started letting out a steady stream of content rumbling of his own in response.

"Question for you, Cat."

Aiden didn't pause in lacing up his boots, "Ask away, Wolf."

"You know you were-" he clenched his fingers in imitation of the gesture, "I don't know - kneading - me last night?"

At that, Aiden did pause and Lambert had the feeling if he could blush he'd be bright red.

"I..shit. Sorry, I didn't even realise. I usually only do that around my siblings. I'll try to control it better."

"Didn't say it was a bad thing. " Lambert bumped his shoulder lightly against Aiden's, "I was just curious is all. I don't give a shit what you do, short of stabbing me."

Lambert tried to ignore the warmth blooming in his chest as Aiden let out a tiny purr.

Jumpscare - Eskel

Eskel hummed to himself as he bought in the last of the vegetables from the greenhouses for pickling. Glad to see that Aiden was already in the kitchen setting everything up and was currently busy with a keg of brine. Things had been a bit tense to start with when his little brother had rolled up with a Cat of all people but Aiden had made it very hard to not like him. If nothing else, he was always more than willing to lend a hand with chores - always a bonus when your home was in a near constant state of disrepair.

"Alright." Eskel said, dumping one of the sacks out onto the stone countertop, "That's the last of this year's crop. If we work quickly we should be done by-"

He was interrupted by a yowl next to him and if Aiden was an actual cat, Eskel would be inclined to think somebody had just stepped on his tail. Whirling around he saw no sign of the other Witcher. Until he looked up just in time to see Aiden hauling himself up to fully perch on one of the rafters, glaring at Eskel's haul.

"Eh...Aiden?"

"Get those things away from me." The Cat hissed pointing accusingly.

Now Eskel was even more confused, all that was there was a perfectly innocent pile of….

"You mean these?" He held up one of the cucumbers, causing Aiden to growl low in his throat in response. Eskel hastily dropped it again, "Ok, ok. I'll put these away for now and we can work on the beetroot instead. Ok?"

Aiden nodded but still refused to leave his perch until the offending items had been shoved back into the sack and into a cupboard.

Soundlessly, he grabbed a knife and began to peel and chop the beetroot.

"Cat thing?"

"Cat thing."

Zoomies - Geralt

Geralt couldn't sleep. Again. He was nowhere near desperate enough to go down the Djinn route again but by the Gods it was starting to get annoying. He just wanted one night where his mind wouldn't keep throwing up scenarios where he failed his responsibilities to Ciri, Yen, Jaskier, his brothers…he was just one man for fucks sake.

He decided to go check on the animals, Eskel had mentioned that the fence on one of the goat pens could do with repairs but it was already getting dark by the time he'd noticed. It was on the list for the following morning but his brother would be heartbroken if any of them had gotten loose and hurt in the meantime.

Turns out Geralt wasn't the only one feeling restless. As he entered the courtyard he caught sight of a figure seemingly in the middle of running laps along the wall. Too lithe to be Eskel or Lambert, too tall to be Ciri, it had to be Aiden. Geralt stopped for a second, unsure why until he realised. Aiden was moving fast.. too fast to be running it safely in the dark and frost. Even for a Witcher, that could be a broken leg or concussion at least if he fell.

As if the Gods had been reading his thoughts, Aiden lost his footing and soundlessly tumbled down onto the cobbles of the courtyard, landing in a heap. Only to bounce back up immediately as if nothing had happened and continue running laps at ground level instead.

Geralt felt his brow furrow as he continued watching, what the fuck?

"Couldn't sleep either?"

Aiden had come to a stop in front of him, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and eyes darting around ceaselessly as he almost seemed to be vibrating in his own skin and using all of his self control to stay still and talk.

Geralt hummed in response before gesturing to the wall "You do that often?"

Aiden looked slightly sheepish as if he expected to be reprimanded, "Only a couple of times since I've been here. The mutagens. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to combust there and then if I don't move , for some reason it's worse at night. I think there was something meant to make us nocturnal, at least partially anyway. If I were on the path I'd go hunting or just go run pell mell in the woods for a bit. Doing that on an unfamiliar mountain didn't seem like the smartest thing though. I'm reckless, not suicidal."

Geralt huffed a laugh, "Well, don't let me stop you. Just don't make us find you lying out here with your skull cracked open in the morning."

Aiden gave a mock salute before going to mount the wall again, "Remind me to tell you about Cat Trials. Trust me, a fall from this is nothing. You could always run a couple of laps with me if you want? It's just, you look as if you could use something to tire you out too."

Geralt shrugged. At this point, why the fuck not?

Chirp - Jaskier

"Melitele's tits, it's cold. I mean, it. Is. COLD." Jaskier proclaimed as the two of them closed the door on the snow storm they'd just left, moving to hang his cloak and hood by the fire in the great hall, "I swear, if you and Lambert ever decide you're heading South for the winter I'm coming with you. Geralt can freeze his tits off up here alone, he'll survive. Unlike me. "

Aiden said nothing, although the bard had been around enough Witchers by now to know his companion was probably silently laughing at him as he removed his own cloak. Jaskier tsk'd at the snow clinging to Aiden's hair and moved to brush it out without thinking. The Cat let out a small but clearly audible "mrrrp" and momentarily pushed into the hand before he caught himself. He turned to face Jaskier, who was grinning at him like both Yule and his birthday had come early.

"Oh, well. That is just precious! " He exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly like a small child who's just been shown a magic trick, "Oh my dear, if all Cat Witchers make such adorable noises I may have a new favourite school. Do you all do that or is it just some of you? Purring's a given, every Witcher I've met purrs to some degree or other."

Aiden caught Coen's eye, the other Witcher flashing him a smirk which said 'You're on your own'

"That's it, I've decided! I'm making it my mission this winter to find out just how cat-like you are!"

"Do that and I'll hide your lute up in the rafters." Aiden said with no real heat, the Bard trailing after him asking questions about tables and glassware, distracted (for now) from the coldness of the Keep.

If I fits… - Vesemir

Vesemir basked in the quiet. There were perks to being one of the first ones to wake in the mornings. As much as he loved having his boys back safe and sound for the winter, after months alone the constant noise could become a little overwhelming at times, making these moments of quiet solitude all the more precious.

He made his way to the laundry room with an armful of bedding he'd found which probably hadn't been washed since the previous winter if the stale smell was anything to go by. No matter.

He quirked an eyebrow at the closed laundry hamper. He was certain he'd opened the lid earlier unless old age and senility were finally starting to get to him. Dumping the dirty sheets on the ground to free his hands he lifted the lid again.

And was greeted by Aiden blinking sleepily up at him, disturbed by the sudden brightness. Vesemir briefly took a moment to try and figure out what manner of contortion he'd used to cram himself into a space the boys had struggled to fit in even as adolescents before catching Aiden's eye. The two held eye contact as Aiden tilted his head in silent question, still half asleep. Vesemir wordlessly lowered the lid again in response before walking away shaking his head. It was too early for his boy's antics.

[winters-mistress]

Raindrops and Roses

"Here, girl." Vesemir says, placing a wooden plate upon Ciri's lap. The dog in her lap shifts, hid weight a conofrting presence. Icy blue eyes snap in Vesemir's direction, and Thunder growls at him. He's a breeding stud, and one of Ciri's favourite dogs that are here in the Keep. Hunting dogs, they tell her, a soft of wolf shepheard cross, but all Ciri sees are enormous fluffy beasts who she adores. He'd been napping on her ever since she'd returned from lunch, and she had been comforted by the weight and the warmth of the fluffy black and white dog.

The girl looks up from her camp of an old mage's settee settled by the fire, piled with blankets and furs and pillows, her skin pale as she looks up at the oldest witcher.

He reminds her of Eist, warm and strong and commanding and reliable, although Eist definitely wasn't as prickly as the old witcher was. The Skelligan jarl never handed out chores or lashes or scoldings in the way Vesemir did, but her beloved grandfather never lectured Mouseack or Calanthe the way he did Geralt, Lambert and Eskel when he felt they were treating her unfairly or too harshly. It wasn't often, and the quiet talking to's during pillowtalk the Skelligan had with Calanthe never produced the same results as the venomous lectures or whip lashes that the eldest witcher gave out to his pups.

Both men are strong and wise and raggedy and trustworthy and loyal, and Cirilla's heart aches with how much she misses him. The way he would tuck her into bed and curl around her when she had a nightmare, dump blankets upon her little head or rub his knuckles against her temple, tell her stories of his homeland and sneak her cookies and tartlets after one of the nannies had sent her to bed without supper when she had snuck out to play knucklebones or throw rocks in ponds. She misses him horribly, but there is an echo of him in the old wolf that tells her that he will be just as instrumental in healing her hurting heart as much as his pups would.

Geralt is her echo of Calanthe, strong and brave and wicked with a sword. Parental and forceful, antagonistic with her when she needs it just as much as they were gentle when the times for love came. Protectors in their own rights, a strong pillar coming in quick after grief.

Eskel is her echo of Mouseack. Magical and eerie, spiritual and gentle with a gruff exterior. Mouseack's imposing height and large beard spooked off as many people as Eskel's bulk and scars, thick, large hands that are scarred and powerful are the same ones that brush her hair back and wrap bleeding cuts and kiss her hair and light up her room with beautiful images when her ghosts threaten to tear her apart.

She cannot pinpoint who Lambert stands in as just yet. Perhaps a mix of Eist and Lazlo? Eist, who would teach her all the dirty tricks of knucklebones and rook and all the drunk card games, and Lambert, who tells her each and every dirty trick he has with a blade and at the card table as he taught her gwent. Lazlo, who would keep her in line when she would run off with her group of little companions scolds her just as much as Lambert does when she edges too close to poison ivy in the woods or in the caves below Kaer Morhen when the two of them go fishing one afternoon. He is rough and gruff, but he sits outside her room whenever she's woken up from a nightmare, gives her an extra slice of bread and slips her a couple sips of Rivian cherry liqueur whenever Geralt wasn't looking as the witchers hit the bottle.

She loves them all, as gruff and snappy and imposing and scarred as they all are.

Ciri comes back to earth and looks down at the plate Vesemir places in her lap. She doesn't understand why he's feeding her at first, they've had lunch two hours ago. Thick slices of chicken with warm bread and green wild vegetables, as well as some lovely strong and hard cheese and a couple berries Eskel hadn't useful for the pies the day before.

She still thinks about that hunk of cheese and bread, slick from the freshly churned butter that melted into the thick slices. Her mouth waters at the thought.

It's honeycomb. She realises, looking down at the plate. Two large and uneven hunks of the stuff, dripping and slick with honey, and four cookies with dollops of strawberry jam in the middle. The dog snuffles, uninterested at the food, and closes his eyes again.

Her eyes widen at the treats, and she looks up at the old wolf.

"Uh-" he scratches at the back of his neck, an uncharacteristic show of nerves. "I know our tonics and herbs fucked up your-" he points at her stomach underneath the dog and the blankets, and she wishes she hadn't. She'd forgotten about the pain for a few minutes, warm from the dog, while her back was similarly heated from hot waterskin Eskel had gotten for her that morning when she'd woken up in a panic, her sheets slick with blood and horrible cramping in her abdomen.

The witchers ran in, swords at the ready, one after another, and she couldn't find the words to stop their fears, blinded by tears and shaking with the pain.

She remembers when Triss was here and she'd gotten her cycle, when it came to light that the tonics they had her on were fucking her up good and proper. Her bones refusing to heal right, blood thinner than it should have been, the nausea and the headaches and the vivid nightmares and the aches and pains all coming to light, as well as the lumps Triss had found inside her after an examination.

They'd wear off in time, and she had thrown all the bottles of tonic and tea leaves in the fire after slapping them all silly. Verbally and physically.

She'd left for now, promising to come back at the end of spring with word of Ciri's pursuers, and warned all the witchers to never, ever, ever give any type of supplements to the girl again, otherwise she'd rip their balls off and shove them down their throats.

It's only been a month, Ciri supposed, Triss said it would take a while for the cysts to heal. She'd done all she could, made sure they wouldn't rupture, but she was no surgeon who could ease them out, and all they could do was wait for them to come out on their own.

But good gods, this is horrific.

"-the breadseed poppy's milk'll help the pain. But I thought these would make you feel better, try and make the next couple days a bit more bearable." He looks so earnest that it makes Ciri's heart heart a bit.

They hadn't meant to hurt her, hadn't realised the effects the supplements were happening. All they saw was her endurance and muscles were improving, and they all felt awful when Triss beat them all to Ciri's shaking doorframe as the girl screamed in pain.

Kaer Morhen should never hear a child scream like that again, not when it's seen so many.

They'd all apologised, seeming to be beating themselves up and be in worse shape than Cirilla herself had been. Lambert drunk himself into a stupor, Eskel had run -just like those first couple weeks when he couldn't separate the two granddaughter's of Kaer Morhen from each other- and Geralt had gone to slay one of the beasts in the caves wearing too few armour. And Vesemir had slapped them all and brought them to the girl so they could apologise and promise never to do it again.

All the pups think that suffering barters suffering, it seems.

"Thank you." She whispers, touched. These remind her of the honey cookies and strawberry tarts of her childhood, and her heart hurts with the memory and aches with the love she feels. "I-thank you."

Vesemir gruffs and pets her hair like he would the dog upon her legs.

"Eat up, girl. Need all the strength you can get right now. Then take a rest, 'll get Eskel to drop off one of those books you like whenever he and wolf get back from their hunting trip. Lamb's experimenting with some powder he found, so don't be surprised if the keep goes to shit and I have to dig the whip out again."

Ciri giggles, and Vesemir cracks a smile.

[slumberingcorpse]

I feel like Witchers show affection the same way cats do, by giving you dead things. Picture it, Geralt covered in blood handing Dandelion a dead snake he found and killed in the woods. Or maybe all the witcher pups handing dead rats they hunted to Vesemir and each other.

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

More Before and After photo edits from my drives. Enjoy!

Again, thank you to my friends who provided the raw shots! Software includes Adobe Photoshop and Paintool SAI - particularly the last pic :).