Lambert was pacing back and forth through the library, listing through a bestiary, meanwhile, Eskel was searching for other books to look into.
"It's useless! Why did nobody ever think that it would be good to know more about unicorns?" he threw the book on the steadily growing pile of others, while he sat into a creaking chair next to one of the tall windows, that showed the sun slowly rising over the mountains.
"Well, they are rare after all," mumbled Eskel, lifting another book and blowing the dust off from it.
"Rare my ass. So rare in fact, that one has been traveling with Geralt of all people for twenty fucking years," retorted Lambert, his fingers knocking at his legs in a fast, slightly irregular rhythm. "Weren't they supposed to only like pure maidens or something?"
"And witchers are supposed to be cold-blooded, merciless monster hunters slash murderers. I wouldn't believe that shit more than the regular gossip. After all, we both know Jaskier, and we both know he didn't have problems visiting whorehouses," Eskel shrugged his shoulders and walked over to his brother, giving him another book to skim through, while he walked back to the shelves.
"Anyway, it's crazy. Who would've thought that Jaskier is a unicorn? Or should I call him Zima?" Lambert snorted.
"Zima?" Eskel asked, finally finding another at least slightly relevant piece of writing, this time an old scroll, and sat on the chair opposite of his brother.
"That's what Vesemir called him. Apparently, the old man has helped him get a human body. Must've known some big sorcerer," Lambert nodded while skipping through the book when he finally found a page about unicorns, but other than a vague description of a white horse-like creature with a horn it didn't have anything even slightly useful. He threw it on the pile and leaned his head back looking at the ceiling decorated with cobwebs.
"It means winter, doesn't it?" asked Eskel, after adding his scroll to the useless pile.
"Yeah, I think so. Why? Rings a bell?"
"It's nothing. I just think that Jaskier suits him better, don't you think?" Eskel said and also leaned into the chair a bit more, looking outside at the sun steadily rising up calling them for another day full of repairs, training, Ciri, and worries. He thought of the cold winter outside and of little yellow flowers and smiling bards with giant blue eyes.
"Yeah, you're right," mumbled Lambert after a while. Winter is too cold, too ruthless for the bard to bear its name. Then he stood up and stretched, got a few pleasant cracks out of his spine, before he turned to his brother.
"Time for breakfast?"