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Sep. 20th, 2017 10:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
worstsinThere was something wrong happening.
At first Geralt had avoided the woods, because it felt like that off-ness was concentrated there. The birds and insects had gone quiet at first, and soon after they'd started to flee to the forest's edges. Though autumn had barely begun, in some areas Geralt found trees turning rusty, leaves dying off.
That had been at first, and from there things had gotten wronger.
When Geralt realized what was happening, he went to the woods. He worried it had no longer become an issue of protecting himself until he managed to leave Darrow, but of protecting Darrow potentially from himself.
Whatever corruption existed in the forest, growing and spreading, it affected his body, and his mind. It had twisted itself around the witcher mutations, had expressed them in new ways, or simply more.
And so Geralt was back at his old camp. Hiding, biding time, and keeping a baleful eye on the situation. He ought to do something about it, but what? What could he do, when he didn't even understand what was happening to himself?
He sat beside the fire, hunkered over an evening meal in a foulest mood. His skin was paler than usual, dark veins standing out against the white. All of his senses screamed. He gripped his dinner in hands that had begun to end in blackened, pointed nails, that reminded Geralt too much of Regis. That was the bruxa in him, no doubt, a fact that he wanted to put little thought into, if he could avoid it.
The canines that filled his mouth too much more than they used to, those were likely more attributable to a manticore mutagen.
And the fact that he had made dinner of a squirrel, and had not felt the bother or desire to cook it, that Geralt wanted to put thought into even less.
At first Geralt had avoided the woods, because it felt like that off-ness was concentrated there. The birds and insects had gone quiet at first, and soon after they'd started to flee to the forest's edges. Though autumn had barely begun, in some areas Geralt found trees turning rusty, leaves dying off.
That had been at first, and from there things had gotten wronger.
When Geralt realized what was happening, he went to the woods. He worried it had no longer become an issue of protecting himself until he managed to leave Darrow, but of protecting Darrow potentially from himself.
Whatever corruption existed in the forest, growing and spreading, it affected his body, and his mind. It had twisted itself around the witcher mutations, had expressed them in new ways, or simply more.
And so Geralt was back at his old camp. Hiding, biding time, and keeping a baleful eye on the situation. He ought to do something about it, but what? What could he do, when he didn't even understand what was happening to himself?
He sat beside the fire, hunkered over an evening meal in a foulest mood. His skin was paler than usual, dark veins standing out against the white. All of his senses screamed. He gripped his dinner in hands that had begun to end in blackened, pointed nails, that reminded Geralt too much of Regis. That was the bruxa in him, no doubt, a fact that he wanted to put little thought into, if he could avoid it.
The canines that filled his mouth too much more than they used to, those were likely more attributable to a manticore mutagen.
And the fact that he had made dinner of a squirrel, and had not felt the bother or desire to cook it, that Geralt wanted to put thought into even less.
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Date: 2017-09-21 04:24 am (UTC)But Geralt could hear Lambert in the back of his mind, his anger, his hatred of all of the injustices that boys were brought to bear at Kaer Morhen. Destiny? That's bullshit, Geralt, and we both know it.
He picked up a long, thin stick of green wood and used it to stir the coals in the heart of the fire. He stared into it, pupils narrowing until practically disappeared in the yellows.
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Date: 2017-09-21 07:58 pm (UTC)She was trapped, and cages frightened her.
"Why can't they leave well enough alone?"
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Date: 2017-09-21 11:07 pm (UTC)"Magic. Magicians. They always want to know, even when they shouldn't. And they always want more, even when they shouldn't. The good ones. The bad ones. The ones just surviving."
You could not trust them. Even the ones that you loved. But Geralt did not say so out loud, not to Amalthea, not tonight. It would have been far, far too cruel and uncharitable toward Yennefer, and she was not there to defend herself.
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Date: 2017-09-23 03:06 am (UTC)She looked at him, eyes bright with unshed tears. If you have become human enough to cry, we might as well end the quest now. Not a one fell.
"If I lose the magic that allows me to change... I will be lost forever, Geralt. I will grow old and die."
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Date: 2017-09-23 03:19 am (UTC)But he stood eventually and closed the space between them, slowly settling himself down beside Amalthea. Geralt sat there, simply breathing, deep and slowly in and out.
Then he leaned his shoulder against hers, tucked her head against his side. Nothing more. His hair fell against hers, the colors nearly blended.
"I'm frightened, too."
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Date: 2017-09-26 07:11 pm (UTC)That the witcher was afraid, and at least willing to admit it to a unicorn-turned-into-a-girl, brought a strange comfort. She was not alone.
"I cannot bring myself to linger in Cabeswater... I have not been able to bring myself to step foot in it, only stand outside it and stare. Something calls sickly to me. If it caught me, it would not let go."