Eskel holds up his hands, mostly placatingly but he's not above preparing a sign in his mind just in case.
"Easy..." He cautions. "I believe you." Mostly, enough to follow Bull's line of questioning over further and more aggressive interrogation for the moment. "And, yeah. You'd think he'd personally catalogued these women instead of just being the authority figure charged with finding them. It was kind of...I dunno, creepy, you know? And there's definitely people in town who know more than they're telling. I figure some of them know you and some of them know what's up with the mayor-- or both-- but couldn't get them to budge on either. So...you're the kind of guy people trust, I guess. Or fear. Familiar with that feeling."
Bull huffs out an amused sort of noise, eyeing him. "Yeah," he says, not admitting to anything except that last point, sounding thoughtful about it. "Guess you would be. Never thought I'd have something in common with a witcher." He says it with a grin to soften the comment into something friendly, then eyes the witcher some more.
It's weird, having someone in here with him. Weird having someone in here for this, knowing he needs to stay alert and feeling a part of himself wanting to relax anyway, wanting company, wanting to believe that he can have that here, with a guy who'd kill him in a second if he decided Bull was dangerous enough. Might need to keep reminding himself about that, especially the longer this goes on.
"You never answered my question, though," he says, a little bit to remind himself there's info he's trying to get out of the guy too, and a lot to try and figure out how much of the witcher's suspicion of the mayor is coming from actually caring about whatever might be going on. "Say you did find them, and most of them didn't want to come back. But you know what you're getting paid for. You still do the job?"
"Well, to be honest," Eskel says sheepishly. "You've kinda put me in a bind here. Code says I should at least hear you out and I've got no reason to kill you and I get the feeling you're about to make a case for why I shouldn't find those missing ladies either." The witcher shifts to sitting properly, stretching out his stocky legs (a little anyway, not wanting to impose in what little personal space Bull had for himself on that side of the tent) instead of kneeling as if in meditative readiness to spring. "But I'll figure something out. Usually do in these situations. Man's gotta eat and have somewhere to lay his head, after all. But I'm not above cheatin' a little." Another shrug.
Bull makes an appreciative noise, watching the witcher's legs move, watching him start to make himself comfortable and feeling a couple inches closer to making it through the day without his head getting chopped off and turned into some witcher trophy. "How little's a little? Lying about the girls? Lying about me? I guess I can't swing talking you into going back into town and looking into that crap with the mayor some more, but maybe we can work a little something out."
"Dunno yet. Times like this I usually bring back some bloody article of clothing and some hair or fur or whatever-- my blood, usually, since humans can't smell the difference-- tell 'em your head was too big or too damaged to bring back. Tell them the girls are dead. Probably get less coin for it but I can stand to sleep rough a while longer." He cocks his head. "You get a weird vibe off the mayor too, huh? Your contacts in the town or the girls have something to say about it?" Since he doubts the Bull has had the occasion to sit down and talk to the man.
i'm giving in to temptation and giving bull wiggly ears since he's sort of a goat person and all
Bull nods slowly, still looking wary but thoughtful about it now. "The girls. Some of their parents. A bunch of the mayor's friends started getting married at about the same time, which was sort of weird in the first place, but then some of the courtships were... off. I don't know all the details. Some of the guards are in on it, mayor's brother, people like that. People started getting worried, I started hearing about it-" Nevermind how, half because keeping the witcher curious about what exactly Bull is still feels like a good idea and half because he doesn't know how the guy feels about the kinds of things Bull does. "-figured out how to get some of em out. I want to stick around until I can figure out how to do something about it, but-"
But. But it's been two months, and here's a friendly face, maybe even a decent guy, and Bull takes a long, slow breath, breathing him in, and he finds himself leaning forward just a little-
Then he snorts, ears pressing back flat to his head just for a second before he forces them up again, makes himself look neutral and unmoved, acknowledges the empty space inside of him and reminds himself it doesn't need to get filled up just yet. Here and now, with this guy who's just barely decided not to take Bull out? Not exactly the best idea.
He takes another huffing breath, like he just paused because he was frustrated. "I don't know. With all this monster in the woods crap I'm probably going to have to move on soon anyway.
"You really lied about killing things like me before?" he adds, wanting to move the topic away from just why he's going to have to move on but also just really wanting to know. "More than once? That doesn't sound like any witcher I've ever heard of."
Eskel is unsure what to make of the creature's expression, his momentary shift towards Eskel, but Bull settles himself again with what is admittedly a kind of charming flick of his ears.
He has to shake off the notion.
"Trade secret. Gotta swear you to secrecy." He says, only half joking. "Can't let that get around. But, yeah. Sometimes, if the monster's the type to be reasoned with, and not all that dangerous, we've been known to do just what I'm doing now." Okay maybe not quite this, stretched out companionably in this very intimate little tent. He returns to the other matter at hand; it's interesting, this little dance they're doing. He's glad Bull is willing to move out of the area on his own, that makes things easier.
"We don't really get involved in human social problems or legal matters." He says, candidly. "But that is weird. Any of the women say what happened? Or just the usual 'not wanting to be married off to some old guy'. Understandably."
"I heard a lot about that part-" because, you know, he would, at least from a couple of the hornier ones who thought they had to seduce him into helping, which is kind of funny when he looks back at it, "-but I think there was other stuff going on. Some of the, uh- the mayor's cousins, I think some weird stuff went down after they got married but everyone's too focused on their own stuff to tell me much, and I don't know where the cousins live. Some of the courtship gifts sounded off too - some of the girls got these special teas and the one I smelled, there was this kind of... there's this mix I know about, gets people seeing things, makes them want to fuck, but you don't see it in this part of the world, the plants don't grow around here."
Now that he feels like he's probably going to live through this - unless the witcher's the best actor Bull's ever seen, or unless he has some hidden hangup Bull ends up tripping over - his tail's not pressed so tight against the backs of his legs any more, and curls tentatively around Bull's thigh as he thinks. Then he looks up with a grin that says he knows what he's about to say is blatantly just an excuse to get involved and leans a little forward again, his whole manner meant to invite the witcher in on the joke. "You get involved with human problems when they're up to weird magic shit? Because, I don't know, those ones that make you see crap get used in some really crazy stuff. Could be some kind of ritual. Monsters usually come into those at some point, right? That kind of heinous shit? Maybe you'd better make sure."
Eskel cocks the eyebrow he's capable of moving at Bull as the creature leans forward so conspiratorially. Bull does seem more relaxed, which means Eskel is too. Conflict doesn't feel immediate or inevitable so he stretches out closer to the Bull in return, a lopsided grin on his ruined face.
"You'd think you were trying to seduce me with a compelling mystery. A partner in well-intentioned crime. A first for a monster I've taken a contract on, I gotta say." Versus just regular seducing him, though it feels oddly familiar. "Since I assume you can't hire me took into the matter to see if mages or higher vampires or whatever might be involved."
"Yeah, you'd think." Bull gives a rumbling chuckle, his ears lifting a little more from something neutral into something a little more friendly and alert. Maybe he should have tried harder to get the witcher this relaxed before now but he is starting to relax, and it's a relief to see. Makes things easier. "If you need the money, though, I know someone who could probably spot me something. Might be a little bit before I can talk to him, but I'm pretty sure he'll do it."
He'll bitch about it forever, Bull thinks, a little more wistfully than the thought actually deserves - smuggling people out of a place means the Chargers haven't been able to stay that long, so they haven't really gotten to talk - but he'll do it.
He focuses back on the witcher again, willing the wistful expression off his face and replacing it with a sly little grin. "You ever taken a job from a monster before? Maybe I could be your first time there, too."
"Well, I'm not exactly in a position to turn down coin and if I'm gonna potentially forfeit the mayor's money getting mixed up in this, I really won't be in a position to say no." He says, lazily scratching the shadowy stubble along his mastiff-heavy jaw. "So... supposing you're good for it, and supposing there's magic, summoning and shit involved, could look into it for you." He looks down at where Bull reclines, eyes glittering with amusement.
"Yeah, you'd be my first there. Done this before." He gestures to the tent, the comfortable space between them. "But never been hired by one in all the half century I've been doing this."
"I guess we'll have to work through it together," Bull says, his words themselves innocent enough but his tone all low and suggestive, and his tail starts a slow, almost reflexive curl, trailing itself up his thigh-
-and then thunder pierces his ears again, making them press flat to his head and making him twitch and grimace, take a slow breath in through his nose as the noise goes on one second, two, three. Once it's done he lets out a heavy, frustrated sigh, rolling off his hip to sit up. He should be thanking the crappy weather, shouldn't he, even if it's a pain in the ass when it gets loud like this. What the shit does he think he's doing?
"I'd offer you something to drink while we wait this shit out," he says, reaching toward the bundle at his feet, "but even if the kind of drink I'm trying to make was done fermenting, I'm pretty sure the stuff I used isn't going to be great for humans. Want some water, though?" He pulls out a canteen from the bundle, holding it out toward the witcher and giving it a little shake.
"Hm." Eskel says. "On the one hand, I'm not human and my poison tolerance through the roof. But if it's not guest-ready then that's alright." He shrugs, taking the canteen with genuine gratitude, tipping his head back for a drink. "Thanks. Long walk from town." He offers it back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Another strange moment had almost just passed between them. For half a moment he could swear the cloying floral-and-musk scent he associated with succubi had floated back to the front of his mind, but once again it seemed only an improbable sense memory for which he could find no trigger. For half a moment there had been an identifiable but surely misplaced tension. And then the creature had rustled himself and it was gone again. He oughtn't think too much about it, tearing his burning yellow gaze away from Bull.
"Alright. I'll go back to town when the weather lets up, see what I can find out. Pretense'll be that I need to do some more research in hopes it'll help me find the girls." He agrees.
"And you can tell them you don't know what I am," Bull offers, taking the canteen back and taking a drink out of it himself. Sure, he doesn't need food so maybe he doesn't need water either, but who knows, with him? No one knows how the shit he works anyway, not completely, so maybe he does need it. Drinking it feels better than not, anyway, and that's a good enough reason to do a lot of things.
Not everything, he reminds himself, leaning over to set the canteen where the witcher can get to it easily and then moving back into his own space again, sitting up on his hip, legs curled up and horns brushing the canvas where the ceiling of the tent starts to dip. He makes his ears stop pressing themselves against his head, giving them a little flick to try and work the tension out.
Feeling good's a good enough reason to do a lot of things. But a witcher who isn't even into him? Some things are just stupid, and he damn well knows that.
"Maybe you found more than one lair, underground tunnels or something, and don't know where to head first. Some of the villagers are going to know that's crap, unless they think there's another bloodthirsty monster around, but they're all gonna keep their mouth shut. So, maybe you need to do some more research to figure out what I am so you know what to do. That'll get you an in into a couple places, right? Maybe not everyone but, you know."
"And in all fairness," Eskel says, taking another drink. "I don't know what you are. I can identify bits and pieces but all together they don't make anything I know of." He considers his options. "So it's a good start, it won't look entirely like a ruse. Town doesn't have a lot of resources, but the temple has a library, I'd wager the mayor has one. I can start there." He thinks about it. "Maybe I'll rough myself up a bit. Not good for my pride but might put your friends at ease thinking you sent me packing before I hurt you. Or the guilty parties thinking I'm not as strong or clever as they'd hoped, take their eyes off me for a while." Eskel could pass for extremely oblivious when he had a mind to, though he prefers to confine such tactics to family disputes.
Bull nods. "Solid idea, make people underestimate you. Want me to help out with that? Could be fun, as long as you promise to keep that sword sheathed." He can't help but grin there, but the which isn't what I usually say to people does stay inside his head. Until and unless he's sure he trusts this guy, it still feels a little safer to keep him curious, not give him any more clues than he's already got.
"Might want to wait un-" He grimaces as thunder interrupts him, ears pressed flat to his head again until it's done, and when he goes on his voice has a frustrated, growling undertone to it. "Until this shitting storm's over, though, unless you want to keep getting wetter."
"Sure. A couple of rounds with you would do the trick." More convincingly even, since if it came down to raw swinging power Bull could best even his large, alchemically enhanced body. Bruises might last longer too.
"Yeah unless you want this to turn into a mud wrestling match, I better wait it out." He agrees. "So, much obliged for your hospitality."
He sits for a while longer, looking around now that he knows he'll be here a while.
"So...what are you, anyway? Something in the fiend family, be my guess."
Bull makes an amused noise. Amused at himself, mostly, the way he has to decide how squirrley to be about this and how much he wants to give away. It's kind of a funny position to be in. Important to be careful, important to keep things friendly, too - but a guy like this doesn't feel like the type to get too mad if Bull ends up having to explain just why he's being so cautious. So maybe he has a little wiggle room.
"Yeah, that was one of my guesses too," he admits, stretching out one leg and leaning back on his hand. "What makes you think so? Must be something about my pretty face, right?"
Bull, grinning, turns his head and looks up a little as he says it so the witcher can see his face in profile, inviting a good look at the stretched out, squashed down nose, the long pointy chin, the forehead and scalp all hardened and creased up from horns too big and heavy to leave room for normal skin and the lumpy, scarred up mess of his empty eye socket. Makes a pretty homely picture, if you're comparing to any of the succubi Bull grew up with. Which the witcher won't be, probably, because he doesn't know. Should make this little guessing game interesting.
"I mean, mostly the tail and the legs and the horns, but yeah, when you turn your head that way it definitely tracks." Eskel says, untroubled by the ruin of Bull's face. He has no leg to stand on there: the only reason he has two eyes in all the scarring is because the bitch who had saved his life had allowed him that small charity when she left him maimed for life. "But what I can't figure..." He rumbles idly. "Is what you smell like. Easy to track you by scent because it's so distinctive." He studies Bull carefully. "'Cause unless you got a girlfriend you haven't told me about, this tent reeks of succubus."
There we are. Bull leans his head back even more, aiming his amused grin up at the ceiling as his tail flicks over his thigh again, idly. "'Reeks', huh? You say that like it's a bad thing. I bet if more people could smell like you, they'd be into it."
Funny, that the tail and the legs weren't the giveaway he'd assumed they were - not in the direction he was expecting, anyway. The pants probably help, make it hard to tell how far up the fur goes. Looks like he picked a good day to keep the skirt put away.
"So, is that all this tent smells like? Just like a succubus? Cause that doesn't sound that distinct to me. I mean, weird, yeah, but-" He shrugs.
"Maybe I just had a bunch of friends in here helping me pass the time." But the last thing he wants is to risk a witcher thinking he might get ambushed by a monster he doesn't know is there, start getting twitchy, so Bull doesn't let that one sit for long. "I don't but, you know. If you were someone else hunting me, you wouldn't know that."
"No, not just succubus, which is the thing that's throwing me." Eskel says. "I tracked you here by fur caught on the trees, so it's clearly your scent. I smell fiend-- brimstone and metal-- and succubus-- flowers and musk-- on you." He leans forward, his expression amused and inquisitive. "C'mon, now I'm curious. I've never met a man that smells of succubus without touching one. And since I don't think you cohabitate with one, I think I'm right in assuming you haven't."
"Haven't touched one?" Bull asks, watching Eskel as he sends his fingers tapping a brief trail down his side, makes an amused noise.
His arm settles over his hip again, and he thinks for a moment.
"You seem like a good guy," he says plainly, deciding to be at least some kind of honest. "I'm pretty good at reading people, so I'm pretty sure you're not planning on killing me. But I've known too many people to pin my life on that. Curiosity, though? Some people'll put up with a lot for that. Not saying I'm not going to tell you what I know, just - can you blame me for wanting to stretch it out a little?
"Besides, maybe you know stuff I don't. We don't have all those fancy books to memorise like you guys do. We just have word of mouth, and there's some stuff no one ever decided I needed to know. What do you know about, uh, breeding? You guys keep track of how new baby monsters get made, or just how to kill em?"
Eskel's not sure where that line of questioning is going but he considers it for a moment before answering.
"I mean, some stuff." He says. "Where monsters nest, what season there's likely to be offspring present. Do they lay eggs or not and all that. What monsters generate from raw Chaos, corrupted magic." He shrugs. "Why do you ask? Never got the talk in your impressionable youth?" He jokes, fairly sure Bull knows what he's doing in the bedroom. Or... wherever.
"I mean, not really." Bull reconsiders, tilting his head back and forth. "Maybe more and less than you're thinking. I learned what I needed to. But then, the people who did need to know couldn't figure me out either, so maybe there's not much point in asking you.
"Say I do tell you, you planning on writing it down? I'm going to be real, I kind of like the idea of getting my own page in some witcher book you guys are going to be looking at for the next fifty or hundred years, or whatever. And I guess if you take me out, you lose that chance I'm going to get you that extra payment..."
It's not a lot of security, but he also doesn't want to flat out refuse to tell the witcher at all, risk losing some of whatever goodwill he's got by sitting and talking like this.
He's still thinking about it.
"You meet a lot of succubi, knowing how they smell like that? How's that usually go?" If this guy's as relaxed about monsters as he says he is, those other meetings probably went okay for the succubus, usually. Probably he doesn't have an issue with the whole feeing on people's energy, going into their dreams thing. It'd still be nice to hear it from the witcher's own mouth.
"You know, I think I'd like that. Something to take back home to our library this winter."
The library, where it will probably never be read because there are no more children who are taught to read and write out of the bestiary as old as humanity's presence in this world. But still, it will feel like a contribution of some kind, and he can still talk about this with the three other witchers who will (if the world is not too cruel) be waiting there for him. "It'll have to wait til after whatever this is we're about to do in town is sorted though, didn't bring anything to take notes on." He tips his head back thoughtfully, considering Bull's question.
"I mean, we can track a lot of things by scent. So, I find some leg fur at a scene where a succubus was, sometimes I can find her that way. And usually I try to convince her to let her unfortunate human companions go and leave the area."
Once, this had resulted in...Eskel wasn't sure how it happened. Had he bribed her, traded himself for some unfortunate human knowing he was more likely to survive the encounter? Had she simply demanded his company for the promise to leave and not trouble the settlement? Had she just pounced on him? The fisstech and the exhaustion and a lot of mead and wine had robbed him of a lot of his memories of the encounter.
But Bull doesn't need to know about that, and Eskel tries not to remember what little he does. A witcher's body does not betray arousal easily but he would hate for some stray element of the succubus' memory to show in his face. He does his best.
"Yeah, usually goes alright. Only one or two encounters have ever come to blows."
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"Easy..." He cautions. "I believe you." Mostly, enough to follow Bull's line of questioning over further and more aggressive interrogation for the moment. "And, yeah. You'd think he'd personally catalogued these women instead of just being the authority figure charged with finding them. It was kind of...I dunno, creepy, you know? And there's definitely people in town who know more than they're telling. I figure some of them know you and some of them know what's up with the mayor-- or both-- but couldn't get them to budge on either. So...you're the kind of guy people trust, I guess. Or fear. Familiar with that feeling."
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It's weird, having someone in here with him. Weird having someone in here for this, knowing he needs to stay alert and feeling a part of himself wanting to relax anyway, wanting company, wanting to believe that he can have that here, with a guy who'd kill him in a second if he decided Bull was dangerous enough. Might need to keep reminding himself about that, especially the longer this goes on.
"You never answered my question, though," he says, a little bit to remind himself there's info he's trying to get out of the guy too, and a lot to try and figure out how much of the witcher's suspicion of the mayor is coming from actually caring about whatever might be going on. "Say you did find them, and most of them didn't want to come back. But you know what you're getting paid for. You still do the job?"
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i'm giving in to temptation and giving bull wiggly ears since he's sort of a goat person and all
But. But it's been two months, and here's a friendly face, maybe even a decent guy, and Bull takes a long, slow breath, breathing him in, and he finds himself leaning forward just a little-
Then he snorts, ears pressing back flat to his head just for a second before he forces them up again, makes himself look neutral and unmoved, acknowledges the empty space inside of him and reminds himself it doesn't need to get filled up just yet. Here and now, with this guy who's just barely decided not to take Bull out? Not exactly the best idea.
He takes another huffing breath, like he just paused because he was frustrated. "I don't know. With all this monster in the woods crap I'm probably going to have to move on soon anyway.
"You really lied about killing things like me before?" he adds, wanting to move the topic away from just why he's going to have to move on but also just really wanting to know. "More than once? That doesn't sound like any witcher I've ever heard of."
Eeeee! <3
He has to shake off the notion.
"Trade secret. Gotta swear you to secrecy." He says, only half joking. "Can't let that get around. But, yeah. Sometimes, if the monster's the type to be reasoned with, and not all that dangerous, we've been known to do just what I'm doing now." Okay maybe not quite this, stretched out companionably in this very intimate little tent. He returns to the other matter at hand; it's interesting, this little dance they're doing. He's glad Bull is willing to move out of the area on his own, that makes things easier.
"We don't really get involved in human social problems or legal matters." He says, candidly. "But that is weird. Any of the women say what happened? Or just the usual 'not wanting to be married off to some old guy'. Understandably."
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Now that he feels like he's probably going to live through this - unless the witcher's the best actor Bull's ever seen, or unless he has some hidden hangup Bull ends up tripping over - his tail's not pressed so tight against the backs of his legs any more, and curls tentatively around Bull's thigh as he thinks. Then he looks up with a grin that says he knows what he's about to say is blatantly just an excuse to get involved and leans a little forward again, his whole manner meant to invite the witcher in on the joke. "You get involved with human problems when they're up to weird magic shit? Because, I don't know, those ones that make you see crap get used in some really crazy stuff. Could be some kind of ritual. Monsters usually come into those at some point, right? That kind of heinous shit? Maybe you'd better make sure."
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"You'd think you were trying to seduce me with a compelling mystery. A partner in well-intentioned crime. A first for a monster I've taken a contract on, I gotta say." Versus just regular seducing him, though it feels oddly familiar. "Since I assume you can't hire me took into the matter to see if mages or higher vampires or whatever might be involved."
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He'll bitch about it forever, Bull thinks, a little more wistfully than the thought actually deserves - smuggling people out of a place means the Chargers haven't been able to stay that long, so they haven't really gotten to talk - but he'll do it.
He focuses back on the witcher again, willing the wistful expression off his face and replacing it with a sly little grin. "You ever taken a job from a monster before? Maybe I could be your first time there, too."
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"Yeah, you'd be my first there. Done this before." He gestures to the tent, the comfortable space between them. "But never been hired by one in all the half century I've been doing this."
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-and then thunder pierces his ears again, making them press flat to his head and making him twitch and grimace, take a slow breath in through his nose as the noise goes on one second, two, three. Once it's done he lets out a heavy, frustrated sigh, rolling off his hip to sit up. He should be thanking the crappy weather, shouldn't he, even if it's a pain in the ass when it gets loud like this. What the shit does he think he's doing?
"I'd offer you something to drink while we wait this shit out," he says, reaching toward the bundle at his feet, "but even if the kind of drink I'm trying to make was done fermenting, I'm pretty sure the stuff I used isn't going to be great for humans. Want some water, though?" He pulls out a canteen from the bundle, holding it out toward the witcher and giving it a little shake.
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Another strange moment had almost just passed between them. For half a moment he could swear the cloying floral-and-musk scent he associated with succubi had floated back to the front of his mind, but once again it seemed only an improbable sense memory for which he could find no trigger. For half a moment there had been an identifiable but surely misplaced tension. And then the creature had rustled himself and it was gone again. He oughtn't think too much about it, tearing his burning yellow gaze away from Bull.
"Alright. I'll go back to town when the weather lets up, see what I can find out. Pretense'll be that I need to do some more research in hopes it'll help me find the girls." He agrees.
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Not everything, he reminds himself, leaning over to set the canteen where the witcher can get to it easily and then moving back into his own space again, sitting up on his hip, legs curled up and horns brushing the canvas where the ceiling of the tent starts to dip. He makes his ears stop pressing themselves against his head, giving them a little flick to try and work the tension out.
Feeling good's a good enough reason to do a lot of things. But a witcher who isn't even into him? Some things are just stupid, and he damn well knows that.
"Maybe you found more than one lair, underground tunnels or something, and don't know where to head first. Some of the villagers are going to know that's crap, unless they think there's another bloodthirsty monster around, but they're all gonna keep their mouth shut. So, maybe you need to do some more research to figure out what I am so you know what to do. That'll get you an in into a couple places, right? Maybe not everyone but, you know."
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"Might want to wait un-" He grimaces as thunder interrupts him, ears pressed flat to his head again until it's done, and when he goes on his voice has a frustrated, growling undertone to it. "Until this shitting storm's over, though, unless you want to keep getting wetter."
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"Yeah unless you want this to turn into a mud wrestling match, I better wait it out." He agrees. "So, much obliged for your hospitality."
He sits for a while longer, looking around now that he knows he'll be here a while.
"So...what are you, anyway? Something in the fiend family, be my guess."
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"Yeah, that was one of my guesses too," he admits, stretching out one leg and leaning back on his hand. "What makes you think so? Must be something about my pretty face, right?"
Bull, grinning, turns his head and looks up a little as he says it so the witcher can see his face in profile, inviting a good look at the stretched out, squashed down nose, the long pointy chin, the forehead and scalp all hardened and creased up from horns too big and heavy to leave room for normal skin and the lumpy, scarred up mess of his empty eye socket. Makes a pretty homely picture, if you're comparing to any of the succubi Bull grew up with. Which the witcher won't be, probably, because he doesn't know. Should make this little guessing game interesting.
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Funny, that the tail and the legs weren't the giveaway he'd assumed they were - not in the direction he was expecting, anyway. The pants probably help, make it hard to tell how far up the fur goes. Looks like he picked a good day to keep the skirt put away.
"So, is that all this tent smells like? Just like a succubus? Cause that doesn't sound that distinct to me. I mean, weird, yeah, but-" He shrugs.
"Maybe I just had a bunch of friends in here helping me pass the time." But the last thing he wants is to risk a witcher thinking he might get ambushed by a monster he doesn't know is there, start getting twitchy, so Bull doesn't let that one sit for long. "I don't but, you know. If you were someone else hunting me, you wouldn't know that."
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Man, not monster.
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His arm settles over his hip again, and he thinks for a moment.
"You seem like a good guy," he says plainly, deciding to be at least some kind of honest. "I'm pretty good at reading people, so I'm pretty sure you're not planning on killing me. But I've known too many people to pin my life on that. Curiosity, though? Some people'll put up with a lot for that. Not saying I'm not going to tell you what I know, just - can you blame me for wanting to stretch it out a little?
"Besides, maybe you know stuff I don't. We don't have all those fancy books to memorise like you guys do. We just have word of mouth, and there's some stuff no one ever decided I needed to know. What do you know about, uh, breeding? You guys keep track of how new baby monsters get made, or just how to kill em?"
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"I mean, some stuff." He says. "Where monsters nest, what season there's likely to be offspring present. Do they lay eggs or not and all that. What monsters generate from raw Chaos, corrupted magic." He shrugs. "Why do you ask? Never got the talk in your impressionable youth?" He jokes, fairly sure Bull knows what he's doing in the bedroom. Or... wherever.
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"Say I do tell you, you planning on writing it down? I'm going to be real, I kind of like the idea of getting my own page in some witcher book you guys are going to be looking at for the next fifty or hundred years, or whatever. And I guess if you take me out, you lose that chance I'm going to get you that extra payment..."
It's not a lot of security, but he also doesn't want to flat out refuse to tell the witcher at all, risk losing some of whatever goodwill he's got by sitting and talking like this.
He's still thinking about it.
"You meet a lot of succubi, knowing how they smell like that? How's that usually go?" If this guy's as relaxed about monsters as he says he is, those other meetings probably went okay for the succubus, usually. Probably he doesn't have an issue with the whole feeing on people's energy, going into their dreams thing. It'd still be nice to hear it from the witcher's own mouth.
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The library, where it will probably never be read because there are no more children who are taught to read and write out of the bestiary as old as humanity's presence in this world. But still, it will feel like a contribution of some kind, and he can still talk about this with the three other witchers who will (if the world is not too cruel) be waiting there for him. "It'll have to wait til after whatever this is we're about to do in town is sorted though, didn't bring anything to take notes on." He tips his head back thoughtfully, considering Bull's question.
"I mean, we can track a lot of things by scent. So, I find some leg fur at a scene where a succubus was, sometimes I can find her that way. And usually I try to convince her to let her unfortunate human companions go and leave the area."
Once, this had resulted in...Eskel wasn't sure how it happened. Had he bribed her, traded himself for some unfortunate human knowing he was more likely to survive the encounter? Had she simply demanded his company for the promise to leave and not trouble the settlement? Had she just pounced on him? The fisstech and the exhaustion and a lot of mead and wine had robbed him of a lot of his memories of the encounter.
But Bull doesn't need to know about that, and Eskel tries not to remember what little he does. A witcher's body does not betray arousal easily but he would hate for some stray element of the succubus' memory to show in his face. He does his best.
"Yeah, usually goes alright. Only one or two encounters have ever come to blows."
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(Anonymous) - 2021-06-06 21:40 (UTC) - ExpandGod replying on mobile is a disaster, sorry.
it's all good I knew it was you
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