[ Geralt doesn't answer at first. He runs the brush over Roach, letting Claude finish speaking. Half the time, he isn't sure if Claude is talking to him or if the man is musing all of the thoughts in between out loud.
He weighs what he wants to say in the meantime. Eventually settles on: ] I raised her.
[ He did more than train her. She is more than his student. It's not a thought he stumbles over anymore. His memories from home are firm in his mind; he's no longer missing those pieces that left him wondering just how they came together—not the grand scope of it, but the quiet little moments. The bits on her plate she'd always pick around at dinner, the treats she'd sneak his horse, that face she'd make at him when he sent her to bed.
And she should impress with her skill. He never taught her anything less. ]
I imagine one day, she'll best me. [ He's not serious, but it isn't wholly a joke. He's only getting older by the season. ]
no subject
He weighs what he wants to say in the meantime. Eventually settles on: ] I raised her.
[ He did more than train her. She is more than his student. It's not a thought he stumbles over anymore. His memories from home are firm in his mind; he's no longer missing those pieces that left him wondering just how they came together—not the grand scope of it, but the quiet little moments. The bits on her plate she'd always pick around at dinner, the treats she'd sneak his horse, that face she'd make at him when he sent her to bed.
And she should impress with her skill. He never taught her anything less. ]
I imagine one day, she'll best me. [ He's not serious, but it isn't wholly a joke. He's only getting older by the season. ]