#greybert

[piranhaincaps]

fun fact! Alzur's Legacy Lambert does have his (game) facial scars, but he hides them beneath the sweep of his hair and they're easy to miss

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Lambert from Alzur's Legacy.

[pressedinthepages]

Decembert Day 20 - Loneliness

@continentcakeshop thanks as always for the encouragement <3

Rating: T

Content Tags: Alzur's Legacy Lambert, greybert, discussions of death and dying, sadbert

Summary: The Witcher's keep, once a place of peace and solace, now only holds empty memories and the haunted whispers of those long passed on.

The castle was cold, quiet. Walls haunted by voices of years past, floors untouched by boots for decades, save for one pair.

One pair that roamed up and down through old abandoned halls, limping on a leg long healed, but healed wrong. He didn’t make the trek every winter, not anymore, but he tried to get up to the castle every few years. The trail never got easier, what with the forest overtaking what was left of the Path that the Witchers carved so long ago.

Lambert huffed and crossed his arms as he strode into the main hall, his steps echoing in the lulled stone. His hair, now grey and longer than he ever used to let it get, hung in his eyes.

The memories of the castle washed through him in painful waves, laughter and screams ripping through his gut, ale and blood burning his throat. Lambert swallowed thickly and looked at the spiral of stairs leading down to his old alchemical labs, now overgrown with an experiment gone wrong a few decades back.

All he wanted was a night of restful sleep, though he hadn’t been able to find that in years. If he let his conscious mind rest, his old friends, his family lost to violent ends or peaceful ones (the few that were lucky,) came to him in his dreams, mere whispers of the lives they shared together. And when he would wake, he’d be cold, empty. Lonely.

Though he’d never admit that. No, he was far too stubborn. Instead, he would drag his sorry ass up a mountain to a deserted castle and try to find some semblance of reason for why he, Lambert of Kaer Morhen, because the place he was born hadn’t existed for almost a century, was the last one left. Why he was left with the memories, the pyres, the fucking heartache. And the responsibility.

Because Lambert had known far too many good Witchers to let them be forgotten. No, he’d decided long ago to give up the bullshit, to work just as hard as Eskel, or Geralt, or Vesemir, or Coen, or Aiden, or any of the countless others, and do the damned work.

So he did. And he knew, one day, it would kill him.

But, until then. He sat in the empty keep, listening to the wind whistle through cracks in the stone that no one had been around to fix, and let himself rest.

If only for a bit.

[piranhaincaps]

you can't tell tbh but it's greybert ver :p

[piranhaincaps]

decemberts scribbles! day 2 - 5 ♥ @continentcakeshop event! top left: snowmen top right: ugly sweater bottom left: shelter bottom right: animal tracks all: [1] [2-5] [6-9] [10-13] [14-17]

[piranhaincaps]

decemberts scribbles! day 10 - 13 ♥ @continentcakeshop event! click for full/not cut-off images :p

top left: ice skating top right: hibernation bottom left: endless nights bottom right: migration all: [1] [2-5] [6-9] [10-13] [14-17]

[pressedinthepages]

Decembert Day 2 - Snowmen

Day 2 done! @continentcakeshop thanks for the encouragement <3

Rating: T

Content Tags: Greybert (Alzur's Legacy), Uncle Lambert, discussion of death

Summary: An old friend finds Lambert in his sanctuary.

“A veritable army you’ve assembled at my stoop, Your Highness.” Lambert sauntered from the warm embrace of the empty keep, his bones aching with the sudden nipping chill. His grey hair fell into his eyes as the breeze wisped across his face.

“Haven’t been called that in quite a long time, you know.” Ciri spun around, admiring the handiwork that she’d spent the better part of the night before constructing. Snowmen of all shapes and sizes sat amassed in the clearing directly in front of the great twin doors to the castle. She stood tall, her shoulders carrying the weight of the decades that had passed since the last time she’d found herself in those mountains.

Lambert shrugged, leaning his good shoulder on the doorframe. “What can I do for you, Princess?”

“Not a Princess either. Haven’t been for a long time…” Ciri whispered, crossing her arms over her chest and shoving her hands into her armpits.

They stood there as the snow fell in gentle fluffy drops around them, silent save for Ciri’s heart pounding in Lambert’s ears. Her eyes shone with tears, and all Lambert could see was the same scared young girl with fire in her heart that Geralt had brought back all of those years ago.

“You know…” Ciri shivered, the twin swords across her back clanging lightly, “You d-don’t have to be the last one…”

She reached to her neck and pulled at the chain, revealing a familiar Wolf’s medallion. Lambert sighed and turned, kicking the door open wide as he forced down the aching lump in his throat that he couldn’t force himself to swallow around. Fuck, just another person to hurt me when they die. “C’mon, before you freeze.”