It had been a horrid wound close to his stomach, that she was surprised he had not bled to death on his way to her. She wondered what it was that he fought that led him to this predicament, and was so anxious to hear the story of his travels. But she knew it would have to wait until he was well rested and his mind is clear from the delirium induced by the potions and magic she used on him to stop the bleeding and enhance his Witcher healing abilities. For now she simply sat by his bedside, watching him closely as he rested, thankful that he had found her cabin, and that of all places he was close to where she had her respite.
When he awoken Eskel was greeted by the sight of a sleeping Triss by his side. She sat on a chair close to him, a heavy fur blanket covered her body as she slept. Her brow furrowed in her sleep ever so slightly, as if her dream was of a serious matter. He wondered if it had something to do with her finding him bloodied, and hunched over his horse, weak and bleeding in front of her cabin. He cannot remember clearly what happened, but did remember seeking shelter, remembering so well where she lived as he'd visited her before, and directing his horse to it with the last strength he had. He had no strength to dismount his horse, and had remained on it, as he wearily called out to his sorceress friend.
He doubted she heard his call, but was awaken by the sound of his horse whimpering and distressed for his master in front of her home. He heard her door open, heard her gasp in horror at his sight, saw through half lidded eyes the flowing green nightdress she wore and her bright red hair falling past her shoulders, and felt her hurriedly guide him off his horse and assist his large muscular frame into her cabin.
Her words to him were of worry, of shock and concern. Eskel tried to calm her, to tell her that he was all right now that she found him. He wanted to brush the tears from her eyes that he knew he caused there, but felt too weak. Sleep embraced him repeated but he fought it as much as he could. But nevertheless he failed.
Laying in bed now and looking at his savior, he wondered how long he had slept. How long had she watched over him?
He tried to move to sit up, only to hiss out loud as a sharp pain on his chest and side erupted. His interjection and movement was loud enough to awaken Triss, who was now fully awakened, and leaning towards him, her blanket discarded.
Eskel felt her soft hands against his bare chest, easing him to relax and lay back into the mattress.
"Triss..." her name escaped him and he planned to speak, but was surprise how rough his voice felt, and how dry his mouth felt.
She smiled at him, her beautiful friendly and caring smile. The warmth of her hand on his chest for a few moments more-and he reveled in its feel-until she seemed to realize they were no longer warranted and moved them gingerly to her lap.
"I was afraid the potions would keep you in a deep sleep for a few more days," she said, as she adjusted herself on the chair.
"Days? How long have I been out?"
"Three days," she said "And the fact that you're awake so soon is a great sign."
He could have sworn it was only last night that he came to her and he succumbed to her aid, and came to his realization about her.
Tris leaned forward ever so slightly and brushed his long hair off his slick forehead. It dawn on Eskel he must be sweaty from his fever breaking. A gentle touch of the back of Triss's slender hand against his forehead brought him to close his eyes briefly and revel at her caring touch.
When he opened his eyes, he turned his head to look at her, studied her face framed by red wavy curls, lips pink and cheeks rosed. He noticed her green sleeping gown which did little to hide the curves of her body, but clung to her shape. She was beautiful and she was here helping him. Was he dreaming? His mind ached and felt clouded still.
He caught himself staring at her, and prayed she didn't find his studying gaze the result of delirium onset by the potions and medication she gave him.
That's when he saw it in her bright eyes, he could read her so easily. He could see the relief in them as it was clear he was going to be okay. She didn't have to tell him that she had been, and is still, worried about him, or that she tried all her might to make sure he gets better and that his wound and injuries were taken care of.
The lingering feel of her hand against his forehead told him a lot more than it should. She cared for him and he wanted her to know that he was grateful and lucky to have her in his life, and that the gods or whoever it was watching over them must have cared enough for his ugly mug to help him stay clearheaded and conscious enough to find her small cottage.
With a slow movement, so that he didn't hurt himself so much or move his bandages, he catches her hand as she was about to pull away from him. Their palms touched and he held her hands in his and rested them to his chest, above his steady beating heart.
"What would this ugly mug do without a sorceress like you?"
A blush slowly crept on Triss's cheeks, as she felt the electricity in their touch and the warmth of his gaze. She hated when he referred to his facial scar, and called himself an ugly mug. To her he was handsome, a kindness in his eyes and a warmth every time he looked at her.
His gaze intense, so full of so many things unsaid and for herself, her words were caught in her mouth.
She wanted so badly to hug him, to tell him how much she stayed many nights next to him, watching him toss and turn in his sleep, change the dressing in his wounds, pray to the goddesses that he'd be alright. A part of her also wanted to slap him for yet again putting himself in a predicament in which he could have died had he not come to her. The thought of loosing him, such a close friend to her, was something that caused her worry, and stress for she knew he held a special place in her long ago she had almost lost him, during the Battle of Kaerh Mohren, and it was something she did not want to relive.
'But a Witchers' life is danger and near deaths," she remembered Eskel once said to her months prior when he came to visit her before, and over a drink.
"The battle has been won, can't a Witcher rest?" She had asked him, and he laughed.
"And who would save the towns from their curses, monsters and demons?" He said with a smile.
And now here he was, unlike the prior visit, upon which he met her after a success in ridding of a wraith in the wells of the small town of Arcadia, he was in her bed nursing a wound that could have well taken his life.
And as she looked at his yellow Witcher's eyes, she felt he knew full well what she wanted him to tell her. He always knew her so well, and he was about to speak to tell her about what happened and what he battled.
Eskel recounted his adventure to Triss, and she pulled her chair closer until she leaned closer to him, tips of her long hair brushing his arm slightly. Their hands still clasp, so easily normal it felt their hands being together, and now intertwined. When did that happen? Triss thought as she looked at his, her pale hands intertwined with a more darker hand.
She felt her heart flutter with so much feeling for her Witcher friend as they spoke comfortably as they've had in the past.
A comfortable silence came through them after his story.
"Eskel, I was scared. Scared I'd lose you."-Triss wanted to say, but remained quiet. To say it would mean something deeper, and one that she wasn't ready for them to face.
Eskel lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. Triss smiled at him.
And for now that was enough.
Fin
