[Funny, 'cause it's kind of feeling like they've been going back and forth a little, going on over a week, at least, that they're gonna get out. Or someone will. Surprisingly, Geralt has a streak. It's not optimism; hell, no. It's more like a brutal bullheaded need to survive. And even moreso: for Ciri to survive.
He won't see either of them die if he can help it. No one's told him how long a quarter-demon (or a halfer) can go without eating, without water, but it's gotta be good enough, right? Dante had fuckin' been down in the bowels of the tree for going on a month. And not in good condition.
But he is stronger. And maybe they wouldn't still be here if it was Dante who'd gotten taken.
Nero huffs, drawing his legs up. This is what he gets for mentionin' it, but it'd slipped out. And if he dies without putting to rest all the pieces there -- man. It's gonna suck.]
Day before I came here. [He rolls a shoulder, remembering the last sight he'd caught of them: leaping off the top of the Qliphoth towards hell itself. Dante had gotten out, but it was because of this place. The mages here. And he'd never... fuck. He'd never asked what had gone down there between them, because Nero had been caught up in his own shit for so long.] About an hour after I found out he was my father. [He rubs a hand roughly through his hair.] It's a stupid story, I promise you.
[He pauses, then adds, for context; for himself, for Geralt. Even when he lines it all up in his own head, he feels nuts.] I didn't know. Didn't know I had one still alive. I've grown up without knowing, and it was... whatever. Fine. Then Dante dropped it on me, and then they both fucked off. Leaving me behind.
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He won't see either of them die if he can help it. No one's told him how long a quarter-demon (or a halfer) can go without eating, without water, but it's gotta be good enough, right? Dante had fuckin' been down in the bowels of the tree for going on a month. And not in good condition.
But he is stronger. And maybe they wouldn't still be here if it was Dante who'd gotten taken.
Nero huffs, drawing his legs up. This is what he gets for mentionin' it, but it'd slipped out. And if he dies without putting to rest all the pieces there -- man. It's gonna suck.]
Day before I came here. [He rolls a shoulder, remembering the last sight he'd caught of them: leaping off the top of the Qliphoth towards hell itself. Dante had gotten out, but it was because of this place. The mages here. And he'd never... fuck. He'd never asked what had gone down there between them, because Nero had been caught up in his own shit for so long.] About an hour after I found out he was my father. [He rubs a hand roughly through his hair.] It's a stupid story, I promise you.
[He pauses, then adds, for context; for himself, for Geralt. Even when he lines it all up in his own head, he feels nuts.] I didn't know. Didn't know I had one still alive. I've grown up without knowing, and it was... whatever. Fine. Then Dante dropped it on me, and then they both fucked off. Leaving me behind.