[ She can't help but smile, just a bit; the guarded set of her jaw falls away, and a warmth replaces the scrutiny in her gaze this far. Ciri shrugs, but it's an easy gesture, not evasive. ]

A bit of both, I would say.

I wanted to be a Witcher so badly. Like him.

[ And she is. She'll call herself that, if anyone asks, and here no one knows the difference. But Ciri remembers, as a girl, how much she'd wanted to be stronger, faster, how afraid she'd been, how small she'd felt. Surely, a real Witcher would be able to overcome these things (she knows better now). ]

In the end, I had to find my own way to it. Sometimes, Destiny shows you a path. You still have to be the one to take it.

[ A pause, something he'd said catching up to her. ]

...you have children, then?

[ Or maybe it was just his turn of phrase. ]