[ The parallels are so stark white, they sear a hole in his veins. For a long moment, Geralt doesn't answer. The Continent had grown too dangerous for Ciri, changed too much for her to remain safe, and now that they've found themselves in Abraxas, this sphere is no different. And it isn't that he expects it to be—where there are people, there will be unspeakable crimes—but perhaps he'd hoped for...more time.
It has long struck him that the impending war between nations may not be the biggest threat they'll need to contend with. That's never been clearer than now. Their status as the Summoned alone have made them targets. ]
No. [ His answer is quiet. ] There isn't. [ Some things move like the tide, are permanently stitched into the fabric of the world.
He gathers up their scattering of supplies. The salve, he places in Claude's hand. He claps the man on the shoulder as he rises to his feet. ] Get some rest.
no subject
It has long struck him that the impending war between nations may not be the biggest threat they'll need to contend with. That's never been clearer than now. Their status as the Summoned alone have made them targets. ]
No. [ His answer is quiet. ] There isn't. [ Some things move like the tide, are permanently stitched into the fabric of the world.
He gathers up their scattering of supplies. The salve, he places in Claude's hand. He claps the man on the shoulder as he rises to his feet. ] Get some rest.