Nowhere. She was right. There was nowhere she could go to escape what was happening, any more than Geralt could. So there he was, and there Amalthea was. He had no authority to tell her to leave him be.
He raised his eyes to Amalthea. They were no more alien than they usually were, a single truth that Geralt found comforting. But his face had an even more unnatural pallor, a grey, where it had once been pink.
"Nothing that wasn't already done to me by men."
And that was the truth. Whatever was being expressed was already inside of him. It was no different, in a way, than balding, or freckles. An outward manifestation of a genetic truth.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2017-09-21 04:09 am (UTC)He raised his eyes to Amalthea. They were no more alien than they usually were, a single truth that Geralt found comforting. But his face had an even more unnatural pallor, a grey, where it had once been pink.
"Nothing that wasn't already done to me by men."
And that was the truth. Whatever was being expressed was already inside of him. It was no different, in a way, than balding, or freckles. An outward manifestation of a genetic truth.