Mm-hmm. So they say. [ Geralt cannot feel it, exactly, so he doesn't know, but he believes it to be true given that no mage or druid has ever contradicted this fact. His Signs are different, even if it's a form of magic unto itself. Perhaps upon a different path he could've had his conduit moment and been taught, perhaps he'd know magic far more intimately—but what may have once run through his veins from his mother has long been stripped the moment he was handed over to the Witchers at the keep.
Himeka distracts him from the topic of Chaos and Aether. He studies her. There's something on her mind, something she isn't saying upfront. Which he's learned, in their brief time together, is rare for her. She looks like...frankly, she looks like how he felt when Ciri had told him the Red Riders were real and actively chasing her across dimensions.
When it comes to questions, Geralt either decides it isn't worth asking altogether or he will ask without preamble. At the moment, he chooses the latter. His gaze is scrutinizing. ] What aren't you saying?
[ What does she mean by such a doorway. One that shouldn't open? One that shouldn't be passed through? (Like Cirilla?) Shit. He takes a drink, too. A deep one. He already feels a distinct chill settling over him, but it's too late. This conversation has taken a sharp turn from casual chatter. And while normally Geralt doesn't care for casual chatter, he suddenly regrets leaving it behind. ]
no subject
Himeka distracts him from the topic of Chaos and Aether. He studies her. There's something on her mind, something she isn't saying upfront. Which he's learned, in their brief time together, is rare for her. She looks like...frankly, she looks like how he felt when Ciri had told him the Red Riders were real and actively chasing her across dimensions.
When it comes to questions, Geralt either decides it isn't worth asking altogether or he will ask without preamble. At the moment, he chooses the latter. His gaze is scrutinizing. ] What aren't you saying?
[ What does she mean by such a doorway. One that shouldn't open? One that shouldn't be passed through? (Like Cirilla?) Shit. He takes a drink, too. A deep one. He already feels a distinct chill settling over him, but it's too late. This conversation has taken a sharp turn from casual chatter. And while normally Geralt doesn't care for casual chatter, he suddenly regrets leaving it behind. ]