[ If they were anything less than friends, Geralt would not have stopped. But they are, and he does, glancing down at Istredd's hand. He makes an exasperated noise.
He lost his memories once. Madness did not drive him to that state. It was also several fucking centuries ago; he isn't in the mood to explain why it's becoming deeply irritating that Istredd is fixated on that moment in their extraordinarily long lives. What happened to him is not a convenient excuse to turn a blind eye. He does not give a shit what Istredd insists on doing for himself, but it's a different matter when he's dragged Yen into his willful ignorance.
And who is Istredd to decide what is best for Yennefer? As if she would ever ask him—or anyone—to interfere on her behalf? Eight hundred years, and a mage's arrogance never does vanish.
Little wonder the mortals continue to see gods in men. ]
Don't speak for her. [ She hardly needs protection. He will not abandon her. ] Move.
no subject
He lost his memories once. Madness did not drive him to that state. It was also several fucking centuries ago; he isn't in the mood to explain why it's becoming deeply irritating that Istredd is fixated on that moment in their extraordinarily long lives. What happened to him is not a convenient excuse to turn a blind eye. He does not give a shit what Istredd insists on doing for himself, but it's a different matter when he's dragged Yen into his willful ignorance.
And who is Istredd to decide what is best for Yennefer? As if she would ever ask him—or anyone—to interfere on her behalf? Eight hundred years, and a mage's arrogance never does vanish.
Little wonder the mortals continue to see gods in men. ]
Don't speak for her. [ She hardly needs protection. He will not abandon her. ] Move.