Geralt shuffles Roach towards a well-tread path. More open. Smoother to navigate. A few of the usual critters scurry along the ground—a spiky grass-backed spider that blends into the coarse vegetation, a slithering serpent—but none interested in confronting two horses riding through. Yet, anyhow.
As the dust picks up, he slips the hood of his cloak over his head. For a moment, he considers.
Does it seem that way? Maybe. It's both true and isn't. He's witnessed Jaskier throw a punch precisely once, and it had ended with Geralt hauling the bard out the door before the burly innkeeper could pop his friend like a grape. Removing Jaskier had been akin to dragging an unruly cat out of the fucking river. Jaskier has outlived many regardless, back then and now here. Resiliency has more to do with it.
And a firm understanding of when you're better off running away. A bit of luck, too.
"There's more than one way to survive. But it doesn't hurt." He glances over at Abby. "Are you worried about what you'll face?"
For all that Abby has expressed her similarities with Julie, Geralt hasn't fully gathered the sheer mundanity of her experience. He knows how Julie's life began. Unremarkable, devoid of magic and strange beasts. He's equally aware of how it ended: with the collapse of society, an entity intent on consuming what remained of the world, and likely some blood on her hands—directly or otherwise—that he's never felt the need to ask about.
no subject
Geralt shuffles Roach towards a well-tread path. More open. Smoother to navigate. A few of the usual critters scurry along the ground—a spiky grass-backed spider that blends into the coarse vegetation, a slithering serpent—but none interested in confronting two horses riding through. Yet, anyhow.
As the dust picks up, he slips the hood of his cloak over his head. For a moment, he considers.
Does it seem that way? Maybe. It's both true and isn't. He's witnessed Jaskier throw a punch precisely once, and it had ended with Geralt hauling the bard out the door before the burly innkeeper could pop his friend like a grape. Removing Jaskier had been akin to dragging an unruly cat out of the fucking river. Jaskier has outlived many regardless, back then and now here. Resiliency has more to do with it.
And a firm understanding of when you're better off running away. A bit of luck, too.
"There's more than one way to survive. But it doesn't hurt." He glances over at Abby. "Are you worried about what you'll face?"
For all that Abby has expressed her similarities with Julie, Geralt hasn't fully gathered the sheer mundanity of her experience. He knows how Julie's life began. Unremarkable, devoid of magic and strange beasts. He's equally aware of how it ended: with the collapse of society, an entity intent on consuming what remained of the world, and likely some blood on her hands—directly or otherwise—that he's never felt the need to ask about.