[ If Geralt notices her internal strife, he doesn't say anything about it. He's listening to the conversation as much as he is to the air. Every so often, there's a distant howl. Very distant. Might not even be clear to human ears. But to him, he knows without a doubt what's making that shrieking. ]
Both. [ He steps over a gnarled root, peering for signs of smaller human tracks. His voice is even, but the cynicism is hard to miss. ] Only so much land and so many titles. Everyone wants it theirs.
[ He shrugs. He's not part of that, usually. Has no interest in being part of it, either. He's seen borders drawn and redrawn amongst just the humans themselves. (They're being redrawn now, again, in a way he's trying not to dwell on. Because somehow, he'd gotten involved in that fucking mess and it's the last thing he wanted.) ]
no subject
Both. [ He steps over a gnarled root, peering for signs of smaller human tracks. His voice is even, but the cynicism is hard to miss. ] Only so much land and so many titles. Everyone wants it theirs.
[ He shrugs. He's not part of that, usually. Has no interest in being part of it, either. He's seen borders drawn and redrawn amongst just the humans themselves. (They're being redrawn now, again, in a way he's trying not to dwell on. Because somehow, he'd gotten involved in that fucking mess and it's the last thing he wanted.) ]