[ He makes a quiet noise in reply. It needn't be said; he knows. There are people absent from the memories he gained, people that make the visions feel a little hollow when he reflects on them, and Dean is one.
The more he remembers, the surer he is of his decision to remain here. ]
It's hard to shake the ones who shaped us. [ The mouth of the barren Core gives way to the blackened ground outside. ] But his can't have been the only opinion that mattered.
[ There must've been others in his life he looked up to. Dean's spoken of at least one that Geralt recalls. That scrapyard that once existed beside the tavern. Experience tells him it's impossible for Dean to truly let go of his father in the same way Geralt has never quite let go of his mother a full century down the road—but maybe the late Winchester isn't the only voice worth reflecting on, either. ]
no subject
The more he remembers, the surer he is of his decision to remain here. ]
It's hard to shake the ones who shaped us. [ The mouth of the barren Core gives way to the blackened ground outside. ] But his can't have been the only opinion that mattered.
[ There must've been others in his life he looked up to. Dean's spoken of at least one that Geralt recalls. That scrapyard that once existed beside the tavern. Experience tells him it's impossible for Dean to truly let go of his father in the same way Geralt has never quite let go of his mother a full century down the road—but maybe the late Winchester isn't the only voice worth reflecting on, either. ]