gynvael: (228)
Geralt z Rivii ([personal profile] gynvael) wrote in [community profile] abraxaslogs 2022-01-28 02:40 am (UTC)

[ Sam glides past the remark with such ease, Geralt almost doesn't notice, either. That he may have said something that to another would be worth pausing over. Later, he might look back and consider what it means. How Sam often takes what he says in stride, even if it's—fucked. He supposes. If he thinks about it, he knows that to be true, that it isn't right he spent a portion of his boyhood locked in a cellar because otherwise they'd have tried to run. (He still tried.) But it's also so ingrained in his history, in all of theirs, that it just is, and maybe Sam's ability to not trip over every small bit of it is what makes it easier to talk to him.

Either way, the noise Geralt gives in return is both exasperated and amused. Like he knows Sam's giving him shit, but he's putting up with it, anyway. ]


Later. [ Possibly. He can see it, that he might actually show Sam some more. Take him through the grounds. But not now. There's a place beneath the keep that he isn't sure what to do with, that he isn't ready to face and fix and clean up. And there's a lot he's told Sam already, but this—this, he doesn't want to get into.

He'd rather talk about the idiotic shit he got into as a boy. After, even. When he was grown but still much too young. When he'd thought he had already lost all he could and didn't realize there was yet more he could lose. ]


Hatchlings are no bigger than a chicken. [ He holds out his hands to indicate the size of the wyvern they'd tried to claim. ] Buy me a drink some time. You might convince me to tell you what I name it.

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