[ Right. Oxenfurt. He's quiet for a moment. Now and again he's thought, what if he'd been there? For her? Would it change anything? He knows better than to dwell on things that can't ever be, and more than that, in the end, his answer is no. He doesn't imagine it would have. Because Jaskier had been there for her. And it had made no difference. ]
Hm. [ They remake themselves as best they can. It's never perfect. But it isn't nothing. They've all shaped themselves anew, one way or another. Geralt would not have chosen to be what he is, and yet. He does not hate where he has found himself. Whether that's because he truly doesn't mind or he's learned to accept things as they are, learned not to drown in the bitter taste of things stolen from him—maybe it isn't important.
He smacks Jaskier lightly on the arm. The day he turns an optimist, that's the day the Singularity melts into a puddle. ]
Is this not enough? [ He glances sidelong at his friend. ] I intend to see what lies in the heart of the desert.
[ He's always travelled roads unknown. The continent is not open for him to wander across, but the desert is vast. He can at least start there. It's a matter of work, of seeing what he can learn before it surprises them—but he's curious, as well. He supposes...at the end of the day, he likes being in the midst of that. His horse, a hard trail that forces him to put all of his focus on traversing it. His purpose lies there as much as it does with Ciri, with keeping everyone he knows safe. ]
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Hm. [ They remake themselves as best they can. It's never perfect. But it isn't nothing. They've all shaped themselves anew, one way or another. Geralt would not have chosen to be what he is, and yet. He does not hate where he has found himself. Whether that's because he truly doesn't mind or he's learned to accept things as they are, learned not to drown in the bitter taste of things stolen from him—maybe it isn't important.
He smacks Jaskier lightly on the arm. The day he turns an optimist, that's the day the Singularity melts into a puddle. ]
Is this not enough? [ He glances sidelong at his friend. ] I intend to see what lies in the heart of the desert.
[ He's always travelled roads unknown. The continent is not open for him to wander across, but the desert is vast. He can at least start there. It's a matter of work, of seeing what he can learn before it surprises them—but he's curious, as well. He supposes...at the end of the day, he likes being in the midst of that. His horse, a hard trail that forces him to put all of his focus on traversing it. His purpose lies there as much as it does with Ciri, with keeping everyone he knows safe. ]