gynvael: (024)
Geralt z Rivii ([personal profile] gynvael) wrote in [community profile] abraxaslogs 2022-10-29 07:23 am (UTC)

[ The frost crunches as it rises behind them. He sees the gun form, is about to lean far away from the barrel—he's heard a rifle fire before; it isn't enormously pleasant to ears as sensitive as his—but then.

The fuck is—

Wait. He turns back to Nero, eyebrows raised. ]


Friend of yours? [ He watches the elk prance off with what he swears is an aura of self-satisfaction. The blizzard swallows it up. Blood stains the snow dark red, slicks his hands. Geralt sighs, pushing himself to his feet. The fight may have been brief, but the sun has still set in that time, sinking well below the nonexistent horizon. Night looms over the sky.

He hands Nero back his sword. ]
Not an ounce of stealth.

[ Can hear that damn thing from a mile away. (It's got a certain charm, the sword. He'll not deny that.) ]

We need to find shelter. No reason to wander the dark.

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