[ Mm. Helpful. Geralt gives a grunt in reply. He gets the message. He catches the light, shining it down at the ground so as not to alert anything at the far end of the corridor. The light catches the bones littering the floor. There is a shattered skull too small to be a grown man's.
He points his light elsewhere. His gaze cuts down to the bag, then back to Dean. A beat passes. His instinct is no. He trusts what he has and that's his sword. But he can carry the gun that Dean's offering. It's not exactly a cumbersome weapon. Won't hurt to have one on hand, even if he's no plans on using it, in case Dean loses his somehow.
He takes it.
Then they're off. Geralt takes the lead without thinking twice. How many fucking doors are in this forsaken place? (Which one is Ciri in?) A rising impatience tells him he hasn't got time for this, that he wants to go to exactly where she is. But Dean doesn't know. Neither of them know. If Ciri sent Dean elsewhere, she may have done the same for herself. So he swallows down the part of him that wants to barrel in head first and starts with the first door. Heavy iron, cracked open. With some caution, he pushes the door wider. Inside are damp stone walls, a small broken window. And in the middle, a coffin. The heavy stone lid is not shut tight. In fact, it's pushed aside.
Well. Fuck. He shines his light into the coffin to be certain. Empty, except for the jewels she was buried with. A glint catches his eye, though. He reaches in. Lifts a blood-stained gold brooch, dotted with emeralds and rubies. It weighs heavier in his hand than it should. He turns it over, lingering over the piece of jewellery far too long for it to just be a passing curiosity.
He drops it back inside. Leaves the lid open because there's no point in closing it. The striga's already crawled out of her crypt. (Didn't he save her? Or did that all go to shit, too?) ]
no subject
He points his light elsewhere. His gaze cuts down to the bag, then back to Dean. A beat passes. His instinct is no. He trusts what he has and that's his sword. But he can carry the gun that Dean's offering. It's not exactly a cumbersome weapon. Won't hurt to have one on hand, even if he's no plans on using it, in case Dean loses his somehow.
He takes it.
Then they're off. Geralt takes the lead without thinking twice. How many fucking doors are in this forsaken place? (Which one is Ciri in?) A rising impatience tells him he hasn't got time for this, that he wants to go to exactly where she is. But Dean doesn't know. Neither of them know. If Ciri sent Dean elsewhere, she may have done the same for herself. So he swallows down the part of him that wants to barrel in head first and starts with the first door. Heavy iron, cracked open. With some caution, he pushes the door wider. Inside are damp stone walls, a small broken window. And in the middle, a coffin. The heavy stone lid is not shut tight. In fact, it's pushed aside.
Well. Fuck. He shines his light into the coffin to be certain. Empty, except for the jewels she was buried with. A glint catches his eye, though. He reaches in. Lifts a blood-stained gold brooch, dotted with emeralds and rubies. It weighs heavier in his hand than it should. He turns it over, lingering over the piece of jewellery far too long for it to just be a passing curiosity.
He drops it back inside. Leaves the lid open because there's no point in closing it. The striga's already crawled out of her crypt. (Didn't he save her? Or did that all go to shit, too?) ]
Watch the ceilings.