Shifting Shadows

It Blooms

*He pushed the heavy doors open revealing a large spacious room filled with bookshelves and chests full of lord knows what streaks of light from the large windows illuminated the room. It was quite the view. Welcome new home i guess... *

The hinges of the door rattled and creaked as the large doors opened wide, these doors must have been a few centuries old as a minimum. I stood in awe of the grand room that was presented in front of me, the Witcher must have seen my eyes light up as he soon chirped up with,

"Quite a view, huh?"

I nodded sheepishly, the walls of the room filled head to toe with bookcases, brewing tables chests and other novelties that I've never dreamed of in my life. The floor although somewhat dusty was made out of beautiful, polished stone only interrupted by the occasional oak beam that held up the grand ceiling above us. Our footsteps soon filled the room as we walked across towards the staircase which spiralled both upstairs and downstairs- carefully as to not misstep and tumble down the dimly lit stairs which lead to lord knows where, the silence was broken.

"What do they call you, lycanthrope?" his voice low and smooth like melted butter bounced around my skull, I could feel my heartrate picking up speed.

Should I tell him the truth? Should I lie- make up some random name? my heart moved up to my throat and I felt a lump form at the back of my throat. Was I going to be able to keep up the lie?

Almost inaudibly through the lump in my throat and my heart pounding like it was going to smash through my chest I answered, "Y/N" I paused for a moment "But most people would shout 'freak' or 'monster'."

I could feel the beads of tears slowly welling up in my eyes- my vision was getting blurred and cloudy; I pray that he doesn't see this. I can't look weak they will abuse that power to get me to cooperate. The intrusive thoughts slowly filled my head.

"Y/N... Y/N. It suits you" he looked over his shoulder. His eyes pierced my soul. So gentle yet full of so much pain. Perhaps we were not so different after all.

I could feel the corners of my lips curling, a gentle smile forming on my face. Mother always told me how pretty my name was. But hearing it from someone else felt different, it felt good. It felt rewarding. The tears in my eyes soon faded replaced by a smile- perhaps they weren't going to kill me after all. Soon enough we reached the bottom of the winding staircase it was much cooler down here than it was in the grand room- this didn't bother me though as I followed behind the Witcher the occasional clanging of the silver chain ringing out in the dimly lit hallway. Our footsteps and the chains formed a rhythm, tap, tap, tap, clang, tap ,tap...

"The names Geralt," he broke the mutual silence "I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances" I felt his hand make contact with my shoulder blade, his thumb drawing gentle circles around the gaping puncture wound left by the crossbow bolt. My shirt stained and hardened from the blood that oozed out. I could feel the shivers going down my spine.

"Its okay- Geralt." It felt weird saying the name of the very person that caused me so much pain, but it also felt so incredibly right.

"Hmm.." the only response. It obviously wasn't okay but what else could I have said. Perhaps he knew this too. His response didn't give me much to work from but my train of though was swiftly cut off with the sound of a heavy metal bolt sliding.

We entered a room, lit by many oil lanterns, filled by the warm orange glow of the flames. The shadows of our bodies danced on the walls as the flames flickered in their glass frames, the walls made of neatly stacked stones and bricks. The floor expertly made with dark planks- spruce perhaps? On one end of the room was a large lit fireplace which spread heat and warmth all throughout the room; a nice change from the cool corridor. Lavish chairs and small tables decorated the left side of the room and the right consisted of a bed of some sorts. Neatly folded bedsheets and pillows placed expertly on the head of the bed. Paintings and shelves with all kinds of trinkets scattered on the walls filling the room with a feeling of homeliness. My eyes darted from one end of the room to another taking it all in, why was the interior of this place so wonderful.

"I trust you not to take my head off" he took a few strides towards me. The scent of leather and cedarwood filled my nose.

The metallic clicking of the handcuff key inside its contraption- the cuffs fell to the floor sending a clattering sound down the hallway and throughout the room. Grabbing my wrists, I began to massage all the sore spots, I couldn't remember the last time without them. Red sores formed on the areas where the cuffs had rubbed on the most. I could see him making himself comfortable on the chair, legs spread apart, his left elbow on his knee hand holding his face at an angle, his right arm slumped over his thigh, what was he looking so intently at....