[ The smell of blood, always, is the first thing Geralt notices. It can mean a lot of things, can tell him a lot. He knows it's fresh, that there's more of it as they continue on, and that the deer had smelled of it even before they'd gotten up to leave, but that it's only now that the scent grows prominent. He keeps it to himself. Louis seems unbothered; he isn't here to play nurse, and if something's wrong—really wrong—he'll find out sooner rather than later. All he does is walk, as though he senses nothing at all.
His gaze flicks towards the strand of hair, then the room itself. It's foreign in its layout and decor—at least to his eyes—and there's a quirk to his eyebrow when Louis tells him to remove his boots. He takes them off, since it makes no difference to him. And, like he's suspected: he does find out. About the blood. It's curious, but it isn't the missing foot that's caught his attention. Or. It has, it's obviously worth noting, but frankly limbs can go missing here and there for any number of reasons. What's truly caught his eye is that the deer does not possess hooves. In fact, much of Louis is more human than not. If they'd been on the Continent, he'd have considered him a cursed man, but Louis seems so unaffected by his appearance Geralt can't help wondering what's behind it. If that's simply how people in his sphere exist—like a sylvan might with their horns and goat-like ears. Perhaps Louis is a faun. A different type, and more deer than goat, but one nonetheless.
Interesting.
Geralt moves inside. He's neither made himself at home nor is he ill at ease—someone who's used to entering strangers' homes on uncertain terms. He moves the cushion aside, folding his legs under him on the flat ground instead. It's just what he's used to kneeling on. If Louis is keen to observe, he'll notice that Geralt has distinctly positioned his back both away from the door and any windows. ]
When I'm in, you'll know. A touch should do. [ He pauses. What else? ] You may need concentration of your own. That part's for you to find out. And don't interrupt.
[ As in: if Louis has any further questions, he should ask them now. ]
no subject
His gaze flicks towards the strand of hair, then the room itself. It's foreign in its layout and decor—at least to his eyes—and there's a quirk to his eyebrow when Louis tells him to remove his boots. He takes them off, since it makes no difference to him. And, like he's suspected: he does find out. About the blood. It's curious, but it isn't the missing foot that's caught his attention. Or. It has, it's obviously worth noting, but frankly limbs can go missing here and there for any number of reasons. What's truly caught his eye is that the deer does not possess hooves. In fact, much of Louis is more human than not. If they'd been on the Continent, he'd have considered him a cursed man, but Louis seems so unaffected by his appearance Geralt can't help wondering what's behind it. If that's simply how people in his sphere exist—like a sylvan might with their horns and goat-like ears. Perhaps Louis is a faun. A different type, and more deer than goat, but one nonetheless.
Interesting.
Geralt moves inside. He's neither made himself at home nor is he ill at ease—someone who's used to entering strangers' homes on uncertain terms. He moves the cushion aside, folding his legs under him on the flat ground instead. It's just what he's used to kneeling on. If Louis is keen to observe, he'll notice that Geralt has distinctly positioned his back both away from the door and any windows. ]
When I'm in, you'll know. A touch should do. [ He pauses. What else? ] You may need concentration of your own. That part's for you to find out. And don't interrupt.
[ As in: if Louis has any further questions, he should ask them now. ]