John wants to tell him something. That much is clear, too. Geralt takes the boar off the spit and drops it into a tin pot someone has gathered from somewhere. It's a little strange, but not particularly unpleasant, to be out of the grasp and gaze of the territories. The world may be crumbling, but it's also far too preoccupied to keep an eye on the Summoned.
He prefers stability, as well. But he has to admit, what was in place before—the borders, the constant Summonings and disturbances to the Singularity—could not have lasted. Perhaps it could be for the best, to tear it all down.
But he worries, still.
His attention returns to John. "Whatever's on your mind, you can tell me."
no subject
John wants to tell him something. That much is clear, too. Geralt takes the boar off the spit and drops it into a tin pot someone has gathered from somewhere. It's a little strange, but not particularly unpleasant, to be out of the grasp and gaze of the territories. The world may be crumbling, but it's also far too preoccupied to keep an eye on the Summoned.
He prefers stability, as well. But he has to admit, what was in place before—the borders, the constant Summonings and disturbances to the Singularity—could not have lasted. Perhaps it could be for the best, to tear it all down.
But he worries, still.
His attention returns to John. "Whatever's on your mind, you can tell me."