[ Yeah. He does. He wants the things he never had for Ciri. Like a future. A family built on more than blood and loss and horrific memories. They're not thoughts he knows how to put into words. It's not as though he resents the family he had. He doesn't. They're some of the most important people to him. He loves them. But he knows what they are, too. The way they were raised and shaped. The ugly edges of it all.
He looks over at Sam. His expression softens. The teasing glint fades into something more thoughtful. He knows Sam's been trying. He also knows Ciri is young. She hasn't got the decades he has. He remembers being like her, once. Mistrustful and too quick to bite. (Sometimes he still is.) ]
You didn't win me over with kindness and charm, Sam. You earned it because you trusted me with what you found important.
[ His home, Bucky. The quiet confessions about his family. Sam let him in, before Geralt ever did so in return. And though he's not been privy to Sam's conversations with Ciri, something tells him Sam may not have done so with her quite as much, if at all. Which he understands. For Sam, he undoubtedly considers it a burden. Perhaps that's what it is, too, but for people like them, it's also—an understanding. That they are all suffering, trying to move forward the only way they understand. Truthfully, Geralt isn't sure he'd be where he is with Sam if he hadn't seen Sam nearly break down over his missing friend, or the aching melancholy of his family home, or the visions they shared together. Sam might be an ally, someone he would consider reaching out to if need be, but he would not be this. A friend.
Ciri just needs time. But she also needs someone willing to trust her, too, rather than simply looking after her. He knows she can look after herself. He did teach her, after all. Whatever else—she seems to have absorbed those lessons well. ]
no subject
He looks over at Sam. His expression softens. The teasing glint fades into something more thoughtful. He knows Sam's been trying. He also knows Ciri is young. She hasn't got the decades he has. He remembers being like her, once. Mistrustful and too quick to bite. (Sometimes he still is.) ]
You didn't win me over with kindness and charm, Sam. You earned it because you trusted me with what you found important.
[ His home, Bucky. The quiet confessions about his family. Sam let him in, before Geralt ever did so in return. And though he's not been privy to Sam's conversations with Ciri, something tells him Sam may not have done so with her quite as much, if at all. Which he understands. For Sam, he undoubtedly considers it a burden. Perhaps that's what it is, too, but for people like them, it's also—an understanding. That they are all suffering, trying to move forward the only way they understand. Truthfully, Geralt isn't sure he'd be where he is with Sam if he hadn't seen Sam nearly break down over his missing friend, or the aching melancholy of his family home, or the visions they shared together. Sam might be an ally, someone he would consider reaching out to if need be, but he would not be this. A friend.
Ciri just needs time. But she also needs someone willing to trust her, too, rather than simply looking after her. He knows she can look after herself. He did teach her, after all. Whatever else—she seems to have absorbed those lessons well. ]