[ For a man who normally says so little, Amos is content to reveal a startling amount. It catches him off guard, so much so Geralt finds himself staring for a good few seconds, before his expression evens out again. Usually I get someone else. For the first time, it clicks, the questions Amos had asked him all those weeks ago.
He’s not certain what to say. In truth, he wonders if Amos is even looking for him to say anything. It doesn’t come off as a confession. It comes off like an explanation, as though Geralt’s asked what his thoughts are on the weather. For a long moment, Geralt doesn’t answer. It’d be easy to dismiss what Amos has told him. So he thinks he’s a fuck up. What of it? Plenty of company in that circle, and if it makes him want to run from his newfound magic, that’s his choice. Not exactly Geralt’s problem. But he likes Amos. He does. And it just—
Doesn’t settle right, saying nothing. He understands too well that sense that nothing you do will be right. That somehow, every choice will leave you feeling like shit. Geralt has coped by simply not engaging at all—walking away, until the moment when he can’t. ]
I can’t change how I was made, either. But we find our paths, one way or the other. [ He hasn’t told Amos what he is and he makes no move to do so here. He only means—it can only matter so far what they are. The rest are...decisions made. Usually ones he regrets. Maybe what separates them from the monsters is they still try to make one. ] If you had another back home—what would they tell you now?
no subject
He’s not certain what to say. In truth, he wonders if Amos is even looking for him to say anything. It doesn’t come off as a confession. It comes off like an explanation, as though Geralt’s asked what his thoughts are on the weather. For a long moment, Geralt doesn’t answer. It’d be easy to dismiss what Amos has told him. So he thinks he’s a fuck up. What of it? Plenty of company in that circle, and if it makes him want to run from his newfound magic, that’s his choice. Not exactly Geralt’s problem. But he likes Amos. He does. And it just—
Doesn’t settle right, saying nothing. He understands too well that sense that nothing you do will be right. That somehow, every choice will leave you feeling like shit. Geralt has coped by simply not engaging at all—walking away, until the moment when he can’t. ]
I can’t change how I was made, either. But we find our paths, one way or the other. [ He hasn’t told Amos what he is and he makes no move to do so here. He only means—it can only matter so far what they are. The rest are...decisions made. Usually ones he regrets. Maybe what separates them from the monsters is they still try to make one. ] If you had another back home—what would they tell you now?