[ The magic his friend imparts makes the journey at least more peaceful than the horrors of what they left behind. It's a method of travel he's not capable of himself, but one that lends a bit of comfort to his mind, but more importantly, seems to soothe the children. As they walk, one child taps the stars on the top of his hand, a silent question, and the Doctor smiles briefly, opening up his palm to reveal a few miniature stars and a little floating planet. Just an illusion, but one to bring something gentle to a day with sharp and painful edges. To Geralt's question — ]
They will, you're right. They'll never really stop.
[ He knows what's capable of, what he'll do if he must, he knows there's a darkness in him that he sometimes has nightmares about, as though it all can't actually be real. But knowing the worst about himself keeps him fighting against it and turning to compassion and hope as often as he can. Those are the memories he wants to leave behind, the impact he wants to have on this world and all beyond, that he sought to help and defend, that what he fought for most would be the persistence of mercy. ]
I'll look for the children, and the lost, and the hopeless. And the monsters that come — [ And they will. ] — will answer to me.
[ He'll go to the ones who call for him and he'll stand between them and the dark, but — he'll hold it back, not seek it out or become it. What he'll do to said monsters remains unspoken, but he'll always recall the look of fear he'd conjured in the children and he'll hold fast to that to steady him in those moments when it seems the easier path to take, to give in to cruelty. ]
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They will, you're right. They'll never really stop.
[ He knows what's capable of, what he'll do if he must, he knows there's a darkness in him that he sometimes has nightmares about, as though it all can't actually be real. But knowing the worst about himself keeps him fighting against it and turning to compassion and hope as often as he can. Those are the memories he wants to leave behind, the impact he wants to have on this world and all beyond, that he sought to help and defend, that what he fought for most would be the persistence of mercy. ]
I'll look for the children, and the lost, and the hopeless. And the monsters that come — [ And they will. ] — will answer to me.
[ He'll go to the ones who call for him and he'll stand between them and the dark, but — he'll hold it back, not seek it out or become it. What he'll do to said monsters remains unspoken, but he'll always recall the look of fear he'd conjured in the children and he'll hold fast to that to steady him in those moments when it seems the easier path to take, to give in to cruelty. ]
And you?