[ There's a faintest curl to his lips before he turns thoughtful. He senses the ambivalence, if that sigh is anything to go by. In a way, he understands. None of them have asked to be in this sphere. None of them want to be here. Makes it difficult to think of it in terms of where they should be, because the answer is home. But they aren't. They may never be. Between what he's learned from Ciri and his own grasp on things, he's never been entirely certain if there's a going back. Even if the doors were to open again, something tells him there is only moving forward, in whatever state the world they're returning to has become.
On fire, probably. ]
Hasn't got to be much, for it to be important.
[ There's something of a shrug in his statement, too. He suspects Amos already knows this. Neither of them have particularly got much, here or there or back home. He can see that in these tight quarters and sparse rooms. The emptiness outside. In the spaces between the words Amos has not said out loud.
A moment of consideration passes before he adds, ] I'll return to the usual, in three weeks. If you're around.
[ He leaves room for Amos to turn him down—if Amos decides he'd rather not set foot near the fortress again. It's a different thing for Geralt. That room, that place—it exists, remains existing, despite what it once held. He can fix it, when he has a mind to. Turn it into...how it should be. Less stained with recent blood; still scattered with pieces of old memories and rusted chains. But he knows not everyone has made a home out of their scars. He doesn't expect Amos to find it an easy place to be, having seen its depths. ]
no subject
On fire, probably. ]
Hasn't got to be much, for it to be important.
[ There's something of a shrug in his statement, too. He suspects Amos already knows this. Neither of them have particularly got much, here or there or back home. He can see that in these tight quarters and sparse rooms. The emptiness outside. In the spaces between the words Amos has not said out loud.
A moment of consideration passes before he adds, ] I'll return to the usual, in three weeks. If you're around.
[ He leaves room for Amos to turn him down—if Amos decides he'd rather not set foot near the fortress again. It's a different thing for Geralt. That room, that place—it exists, remains existing, despite what it once held. He can fix it, when he has a mind to. Turn it into...how it should be. Less stained with recent blood; still scattered with pieces of old memories and rusted chains. But he knows not everyone has made a home out of their scars. He doesn't expect Amos to find it an easy place to be, having seen its depths. ]