[ Geralt shakes his head. He was trained to kill, but not on behalf of a dynasty or country. ]
Witchers don't involve ourselves in that bullshit. No, it's...one of the few places that accepts our kind without judgment.
[ A sanctuary that existed outside of Kaer Morhen. The only one, in truth. There are not many places Geralt would call home, but the temple at Ellander comes close. As close as any place could to the mountain fortress.
He opens the door to a room flooded with golden sunlight and lightweight linens. It's clean, quiet. Much different than the worn furs and rat-infested chambers above.
Here, he retrieves a small box from a drawer and holds his out hand for the letters that John found. The scent of lilacs and gooseberries fills the air. ]
I've known Yen for over a decade. We've had our share of hurt, but... [ He perches on the edge of his desk. He and Yen are a tangled, complicated string. It's not something he can explain nor does he seek to. She's important to him. She always will be. The truth is, everyone he lets into his heart becomes important to him even supposing they should drift away from him. Even supposing they should wound him deeply. Maybe that's the reason he allows so few in. And yet, here he is. With a handful who have made their way through despite himself. ]
I thought her dead once. She's thought the same of me. [ He glances up, expression a touch wry. They are each, he thinks, accustomed to that feeling. The uncertainty of another's fate. ] Death casts long shadows on us all. But I'd like to have you for the time we're afforded.
[ And maybe show John the parts of himself he seldom shows to others. ]
no subject
Witchers don't involve ourselves in that bullshit. No, it's...one of the few places that accepts our kind without judgment.
[ A sanctuary that existed outside of Kaer Morhen. The only one, in truth. There are not many places Geralt would call home, but the temple at Ellander comes close. As close as any place could to the mountain fortress.
He opens the door to a room flooded with golden sunlight and lightweight linens. It's clean, quiet. Much different than the worn furs and rat-infested chambers above.
Here, he retrieves a small box from a drawer and holds his out hand for the letters that John found. The scent of lilacs and gooseberries fills the air. ]
I've known Yen for over a decade. We've had our share of hurt, but... [ He perches on the edge of his desk. He and Yen are a tangled, complicated string. It's not something he can explain nor does he seek to. She's important to him. She always will be. The truth is, everyone he lets into his heart becomes important to him even supposing they should drift away from him. Even supposing they should wound him deeply. Maybe that's the reason he allows so few in. And yet, here he is. With a handful who have made their way through despite himself. ]
I thought her dead once. She's thought the same of me. [ He glances up, expression a touch wry. They are each, he thinks, accustomed to that feeling. The uncertainty of another's fate. ] Death casts long shadows on us all. But I'd like to have you for the time we're afforded.
[ And maybe show John the parts of himself he seldom shows to others. ]