[ Once she moves away, he sits up. He tugs the last few flowers out. The rest have scattered and crushed, and his braids have tumbled free; he shows no sign of bothering to tame the state of his hair beyond loosening the leather cord normally wrapped around it. He's stretched forward, fingers hooked in his trousers to pull them in, when she speaks up.
Geralt shakes his head. ] Show me.
[ He's keen to see, in the same way he likes to look in on what new concoctions Nadine has learned to brew or what else Jaskier has discovered he can do with his birds. Magic is complicated for some. Ciri in particular—before she hurt Jaskier, but especially ever since. And Geralt hasn't got the inclination for it; he's found his focus better served elsewhere, in the work he's already dedicated a century of his life towards.
It's good, that's all. To watch these small novel discoveries. A reminder, perhaps, that the world still has something to give. Not for him, exactly, but—for others. Where it matters most, he supposes. ]
no subject
Geralt shakes his head. ] Show me.
[ He's keen to see, in the same way he likes to look in on what new concoctions Nadine has learned to brew or what else Jaskier has discovered he can do with his birds. Magic is complicated for some. Ciri in particular—before she hurt Jaskier, but especially ever since. And Geralt hasn't got the inclination for it; he's found his focus better served elsewhere, in the work he's already dedicated a century of his life towards.
It's good, that's all. To watch these small novel discoveries. A reminder, perhaps, that the world still has something to give. Not for him, exactly, but—for others. Where it matters most, he supposes. ]