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Aug. 30th, 2017 07:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
It was a kelpie.
He'd taken the contract, not entirely certain of what was waiting. And, despite his best efforts at preparation, he hadn't managed to finish it.
The thing's hide had turned to slick, oily tar or some substance like it, and the kelpie dragged Geralt under, deep enough that his ears hurt. He'd nearly drowned by the time he'd wrestled himself free with magic and sheer force. In the process, he'd done damage to his bad leg, bruised himself, and swallowed half a gallon of water.
He woke up on the beach twenty minutes later, with little memory of the rest of his escape. His body must have been working on instinct. He spent the next ten minutes vomiting streams of aspirated sea-water, and when he was mostly certain his blood pressure wouldn't bottom out, he stood and dragged himself across the city.
Passers avoided him on the streets. He preferred it that way. Eventually, he made it to the only place he could think of to help him in the situation.
Geralt thumped heavily against Nina's apartment door, face a grimace, panting heavily. He banged on the wood with his fist, peering uselessly through the peephole with a bloodshot yellow eye, pupil a thin slit from stress.
He'd taken the contract, not entirely certain of what was waiting. And, despite his best efforts at preparation, he hadn't managed to finish it.
The thing's hide had turned to slick, oily tar or some substance like it, and the kelpie dragged Geralt under, deep enough that his ears hurt. He'd nearly drowned by the time he'd wrestled himself free with magic and sheer force. In the process, he'd done damage to his bad leg, bruised himself, and swallowed half a gallon of water.
He woke up on the beach twenty minutes later, with little memory of the rest of his escape. His body must have been working on instinct. He spent the next ten minutes vomiting streams of aspirated sea-water, and when he was mostly certain his blood pressure wouldn't bottom out, he stood and dragged himself across the city.
Passers avoided him on the streets. He preferred it that way. Eventually, he made it to the only place he could think of to help him in the situation.
Geralt thumped heavily against Nina's apartment door, face a grimace, panting heavily. He banged on the wood with his fist, peering uselessly through the peephole with a bloodshot yellow eye, pupil a thin slit from stress.