[ As he tends to be, Geralt is quiet while she talks: not interrupting, not even commenting. It's a pleasant story, a pleasant recollection. He finds he likes it when people tell him of those. World is shit as it is. It always will be, he thinks, but there are moments and maybe they're made all the more significant in their rarity. As much as he would not describe his childhood, his life, as happy, the feeling wasn't altogether absent, either. There were pockets of gentler memories here and there. People. Perhaps it's good to know Julie has a few of the same. ]
Was he your first horse? [ He remembers his first horse with an especial fondness. He outlives all of them, eventually, a fact he's come to accept a long time ago, but he hasn't forgotten any of them. In some ways, it feels less as though he's left each one behind when he gives his next the same name. They're good, loyal companions. They make the endless roads less lonely.
When her arm settles around him, he turns to glance up at her. Hm. A wistful expression flickers over his face. ] We call it Kaer Morhen. I grew up with a handful of other boys and the old man to keep us all in line. I imagine he fantasized a hundred times of kicking us off the highest wall.
[ The fortress is marked with plenty of bloodstains and corpses, but it's home. It's where the doors will always open for him. It's the only place where he can be sure of that, where no matter what, he knows he won't be turned away or abandoned in the cold. Deep down, that's where he really wants to be right now. (Vesemir would know what to tell him.) ]
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Was he your first horse? [ He remembers his first horse with an especial fondness. He outlives all of them, eventually, a fact he's come to accept a long time ago, but he hasn't forgotten any of them. In some ways, it feels less as though he's left each one behind when he gives his next the same name. They're good, loyal companions. They make the endless roads less lonely.
When her arm settles around him, he turns to glance up at her. Hm. A wistful expression flickers over his face. ] We call it Kaer Morhen. I grew up with a handful of other boys and the old man to keep us all in line. I imagine he fantasized a hundred times of kicking us off the highest wall.
[ The fortress is marked with plenty of bloodstains and corpses, but it's home. It's where the doors will always open for him. It's the only place where he can be sure of that, where no matter what, he knows he won't be turned away or abandoned in the cold. Deep down, that's where he really wants to be right now. (Vesemir would know what to tell him.) ]