𝕸𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒂 𝒐𝒇 𝕯𝒖𝒏 𝕯â𝒓𝒆

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀It is oft said that witchers took on the characteristics of their schools' namesake creatures. Without a doubt, this was true of the 𝑽𝒊𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍. They were agile, quick, and frequently made use of deadly poisons.⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀

Geralt’s fingers closed around her forearm in the old witcher grip, hard, steady, equal. No gentle assist, no pity. Just the clasp of one mutant to another who’d both crawled out of the same kind of fire. "Until our Paths turn." He echoed, the words carrying the --

He steps closer to her, still shirtless. A wet hand reaching out, cradling her cheek. "I have a lot of space in my heart, darling."

His face contorted at the sour taste of what passed for ale in this realm, but quickly softened before leaving the safety of the wide mug’s concealment. If urine had a name in their language.. “Seems so, yes. Where do we start, aside from the pisser? Where’s that, actually?”

Geralt didn’t look away. He met her gaze steadily, letting her read whatever she needed in the lines around his eyes, the old scars, the faint weariness that never quite left. "Conversation rarely changes what’s already done. But it can change what comes after." --

I— I didn't say that specifically, did I?

Darling, are you asking if I have space for you in my heart?

Well, for my personal benefit I hope I will keep my hair for a long long time. But glad I still fit into there somehow.

...no wiesz ty co.—

...co insynuujesz?

a skąd ty wiesz w jakich krajobrazach sie zwykle rucham?