[ His expectation is that the man will give him an ambiguous answer at best. Maybe a yes with no further explanation. What he gets is much more.
The tale goes uninterrupted. He simply takes the time to wipe his blade clean -- as best he can -- before putting it aside. It's a hell of a story. One whose pieces Geralt chooses not to explicitly judge nor dwell on exactly how it must feel to kill your own child. He's the last person to say shit about fucking things up.
The more he learns, the more he feels an uncomfortable common ground growing between them. ]
I've nothing so grand. Just a girl in the woods. [ A princess, technically. But with Cintra aflame and Nilfgaard at Sodden, Geralt can't say what's left for her to inherit. If she's still out there.
For a moment, he studies Ciarán. Tempting, isn't it? To think of the ways Destiny might be responsible for who he's become. The bodies he's left behind; his multitude of regrets. It also changes fuck all. ]
Don't know about Destiny, or magic wishes, for the things we've done. Or shouldn't have done. [ There's no accusation in his words, but they're not minced, either. ] Those are choices we make. And choices we live with.
no subject
The tale goes uninterrupted. He simply takes the time to wipe his blade clean -- as best he can -- before putting it aside. It's a hell of a story. One whose pieces Geralt chooses not to explicitly judge nor dwell on exactly how it must feel to kill your own child. He's the last person to say shit about fucking things up.
The more he learns, the more he feels an uncomfortable common ground growing between them. ]
I've nothing so grand. Just a girl in the woods. [ A princess, technically. But with Cintra aflame and Nilfgaard at Sodden, Geralt can't say what's left for her to inherit. If she's still out there.
For a moment, he studies Ciarán. Tempting, isn't it? To think of the ways Destiny might be responsible for who he's become. The bodies he's left behind; his multitude of regrets. It also changes fuck all. ]
Don't know about Destiny, or magic wishes, for the things we've done. Or shouldn't have done. [ There's no accusation in his words, but they're not minced, either. ] Those are choices we make. And choices we live with.