very stupid hc: obviously, wolf witchers don't howl at the moon. they just holler and yell at it. lil bleater joins in.
Jaskier is roused from pleasant dreams by a yell. He winces and rolls over beneath the heap of furs, and realises with a little jolt that the bed beside him is bare. He sits up, rubbing his eyes, and peers around his room.
Ah. Well, perhaps that was to be anticipated. He couldn’t have expected Geralt to stay with him all night, after all. Not when he had his own, larger chambers and blissfully unoccupied bed elsewhere.
The noise, he supposes, was just a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s dreamt of being shouted at, and nor will it be the last. He pulls the furs up to his chin and settles back against the pillow.
His eyes are drooping shut when he nears another shout - this one clear as anything.
“Fuck off you spooky fuck!”
Jaskier sits up, the furs dropping away. He waits.
With a sigh, he swings himself from the warmth of the bed, pulls on his clothes and boots, wraps one of the larger furs around his shoulders and strides from the room. He follows the sound of yelling through the keep and towards the balcony overlooking the training yard. He spots Vesemir standing there, silhouetted by the light of the moon.
As he approaches, he hears another yell - and that voice, he knows, belongs to Geralt.
“What’s going on?” He mutters, tugging the fur closer as the cold night air bites at his skin.
Vesemir shakes his head. “Young pups,” he says, as if that explains anything at all.
Jaskier steps onto the balcony, where snow is now falling, and looks down into the yard. Geralt and his brothers are down there, pacing back and forth. Every so often one of them pauses to shout again. Jaskier frowns, wondering what kind of weird witcher madness he’s stumbled across now, when Lambert cups his hands around his mouth and hollers - “You alabaster fuck!”
“Are they… shouting at the moon?” Jaskier asks, turning back to Vesemir.
Vesemir nods. “They’ll tire themselves eventually,” he says. “You should return to bed, bard. They might be here a while.”
With that, he walks away, leaving Jaskier standing on the balcony watching the chaos below. Even Lil’ Bleater is down there, he notes with amusement, jumping over fallen walls and joining in with the yelling. He’s observing quietly when he’s suddenly spotted.
Geralt catches his gaze - does a double take - and falls silent. Jaskier extracts a hand from beneath the fur and gives him a little wave, eyebrows raised. Geralt looks embarrassed, which is delightful.
It doesn’t look like the other witchers have noticed him, so Jaskier tucks his chilly hand back beneath the furs and winks.
Geralt scowls. Jaskier silently mouths - see you later - his breath fogging in front of him, then turns away, keen to return to the comfort of his warm bed. In the morning, he’s going to have a lot of questions for his wolf.
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