You didn't have any complaints at the ball. [ It's unclear if he's referring to the masquerade or Thanedd, and he makes no attempt to clarify. Despite the shit that erupted that night, it'd been...good. For a while. A short, short while.
He takes his seat on one of the stone stools, moving it closer to her worktable. It's like moving a solid boulder; he hasn't any idea how some of the human-strength Summoned are faring, but he supposes their hosts are eager to help when asked. They seem eager about a lot of things, actually, boasting an exuberance that reminds him of the Skelligans. It's a shame that the people he feels most at ease amongst—the Lunae and now the Draconae—keep to themselves more often than not.
His eyes follow her hands, the spills, the stains on her skirt. The bit of colour that dyes her cheek a smeared red. He won't protest when she appears looking her finest, held together by perfectly pressed silks and an impenetrable mask, but this is the Yen he's fond of. Unravelled and harried, exasperation wrinkling her brow, hair in dire need of a brush. She's the one he saw in Rinde after the house collapsed around them. In a lot of ways, she's also the one he remembers spending time with the most as they fled one pursuer after another across the Continent. How she would return to her room (alone, usually, at first) covered in snow or twigs after teaching Ciri magic in the woods nearby.
It's difficult to know what to do with memories that are his and yet absent of so many others he knows are important to him from here. And yet, he can't deny the warmth some of it brings him. Maybe it isn't something he should fight. He's not entirely sure.
He looks back up at her. ] Oh, a spriggan. Dare I ask what spriggan-like qualities you see in me?
[ She has, in fact, made that clear. Regrettably, Geralt has even fewer ideas than she would. He isn't an alchemist, and he isn't a witch. He knows how to mix a Witcher's elixirs, that's all. Still, he holds a hand out for one of her tomes from the stack. He can read if he'll be here. Perhaps there's some information worth gleaning that she's missed—and it'll lend some credence as to why he's in the lab should anyone happen in. ]
no subject
He takes his seat on one of the stone stools, moving it closer to her worktable. It's like moving a solid boulder; he hasn't any idea how some of the human-strength Summoned are faring, but he supposes their hosts are eager to help when asked. They seem eager about a lot of things, actually, boasting an exuberance that reminds him of the Skelligans. It's a shame that the people he feels most at ease amongst—the Lunae and now the Draconae—keep to themselves more often than not.
His eyes follow her hands, the spills, the stains on her skirt. The bit of colour that dyes her cheek a smeared red. He won't protest when she appears looking her finest, held together by perfectly pressed silks and an impenetrable mask, but this is the Yen he's fond of. Unravelled and harried, exasperation wrinkling her brow, hair in dire need of a brush. She's the one he saw in Rinde after the house collapsed around them. In a lot of ways, she's also the one he remembers spending time with the most as they fled one pursuer after another across the Continent. How she would return to her room (alone, usually, at first) covered in snow or twigs after teaching Ciri magic in the woods nearby.
It's difficult to know what to do with memories that are his and yet absent of so many others he knows are important to him from here. And yet, he can't deny the warmth some of it brings him. Maybe it isn't something he should fight. He's not entirely sure.
He looks back up at her. ] Oh, a spriggan. Dare I ask what spriggan-like qualities you see in me?
[ She has, in fact, made that clear. Regrettably, Geralt has even fewer ideas than she would. He isn't an alchemist, and he isn't a witch. He knows how to mix a Witcher's elixirs, that's all. Still, he holds a hand out for one of her tomes from the stack. He can read if he'll be here. Perhaps there's some information worth gleaning that she's missed—and it'll lend some credence as to why he's in the lab should anyone happen in. ]