[ He isn't seeking sympathy, no. Nor even understanding. He can grasp this is not something most can understand and he would not care for them to try. So Sam's silence while he speaks is all that he's looking for. He's never told anyone before. Not like this. Hard to decide if he regrets it already or not.
A huff escapes him. His eyes cut away. Sam's not wrong. That's part of it. Sleepless nights that have never gone away. They do bother him, though. He can't deny that. But it's...the question does make him think. It's a new thing, to dig into himself and explain, and he almost doesn't want to. He does because Sam's giving him his time, is being patient with him. He recognizes that. ]
I went home. [ Not home as in his world. Home, as a far more intimate place. That's the answer, isn't it? He could go home before, where he's reminded he isn't alone, where the world outside can't penetrate. He was raised in those walls with those just like him, those who survived what he had. People who know him. They aren't here. He's got none of them here, no one to talk to the way he could with them. ] We grew up together. We don't all make it back every winter, but—
[ He gives a small shrug. What the fuck else is there to really say? He could tell them anything, and that's a rare feeling for him. And no matter how close to gets to anyone in this place, no matter how much he trusts them or Jaskier or those who are important to him, it can't ever be the same as his bond with the other Witchers. He misses them. He's missed them this entire time, but since Thorne, since the winter months have returned to Cadens, he's felt their absence more deeply than ever. ]
no subject
A huff escapes him. His eyes cut away. Sam's not wrong. That's part of it. Sleepless nights that have never gone away. They do bother him, though. He can't deny that. But it's...the question does make him think. It's a new thing, to dig into himself and explain, and he almost doesn't want to. He does because Sam's giving him his time, is being patient with him. He recognizes that. ]
I went home. [ Not home as in his world. Home, as a far more intimate place. That's the answer, isn't it? He could go home before, where he's reminded he isn't alone, where the world outside can't penetrate. He was raised in those walls with those just like him, those who survived what he had. People who know him. They aren't here. He's got none of them here, no one to talk to the way he could with them. ] We grew up together. We don't all make it back every winter, but—
[ He gives a small shrug. What the fuck else is there to really say? He could tell them anything, and that's a rare feeling for him. And no matter how close to gets to anyone in this place, no matter how much he trusts them or Jaskier or those who are important to him, it can't ever be the same as his bond with the other Witchers. He misses them. He's missed them this entire time, but since Thorne, since the winter months have returned to Cadens, he's felt their absence more deeply than ever. ]