The Witcher The Swallow and The Monster

A Familiar Acquaintance

(F/N) took a breath as he stood in front of the fire he and Calypso had set up, he opened his eyes and held his bandaged hands out. He leaned back as he took another breath, he slowly moved forward smoothly pirouetting without his blade. Calypso watched as the witcher punched the air in front of him, then kicked it before spinning. He thrust his hand forward as he cast a sign, then he grabbed his blade which he had stuck in the ground. 

He let out a yell as he swung it around himself, easily avoiding cutting himself. The woman watched as he lunged forward repeatedly, his blade moving so fast that it was a blur of light. He would only stop to change his fighting style. Some of them she was able to recognize, some of them she had never even seen. The witcher yelled out as he rolled across the ground and backed up, while slicing at an invisible foe. Calypso leaned forward intrigued, as she watched him make smooth yet powerful cuts to the air. The sword whistled as it cut down non-existent enemies. (F/N) yelled as he turned into a mist and vanished. The witcher reappeared a short distance away and threw his sword at a tree. The blade embedded itself into the wood, Calypso whistled as she tossed him the shield they had grabbed.

(F/N) grabbed it in midair and stared at the reflective surface. He kicked behind him, and shut his eyes as he bashed at the non-existent enemy. The witcher spun around as quickly as he could before he threw the shield as hard as he could. The shield struck the same tree right under his sword. He slowly came to rest and took a deep breath. (F/N) grabbed one of his hands in pain, "Fuck," he said as he squeezed it. Calypso raised a brow, "What's wrong?"

The witcher looked at his hand, one of the soars had torn open, both his hands were shacking, "It's been happening more often. My hands aren't doing so great. I can't make a fist some of the time and a lot of the time it's hard to move it at all. The witcher's knuckles started swelling as he grabbed a bottle of swallow, "This should help."

Calypso watched as he drank the red liquid, "I've seen your condition. It occurs in those of us that live long enough to see white hairs."

The witcher laughed, as he flexed his finger, "I'm cursed. My bodies slowly shutting down. My hands are already going," he took a breath as his hands throbbed for a bit, he clenched his fists and they slowly stopped shaking, "That's better. I'm ready to go."

Calypso sighed as she grabbed her quiver full of arrows, "What's our plan? We have to prepare for Medusa's slaves." 

(F/N) nodded and rubbed his forehead, "Our best bet is to get as many of them away from her as possible."

"How do we do that?"

The witcher sighed, as he held his jacket out to Calypso, "You go off in the distance and cause a distraction and I..."

"No!" the woman snapped, "I'm not leaving you, witcher. She'll kill you or enslave you."

"Then you have my permission to kill me if I am turned into stone. But this is the best way. We have to keep the fight between just me and her. It's the only way."

Calypso sighed as she took his jacket, "Why are you giving me this?"

(F/N) gestured to the jacket, "If I can't beat Medusa, I'll try to weaken her as much as I can, then you have to kill her. I know you don't owe me anything and we hardly know each other but...please...find the other ingredients." Calypso looked down at his jacket, "How would I even get a golden apple?"

(F/N) patted one of the pockets, "Eat one part of the golden mold. It'll take you there." Calypso nodded, "All of this for your Ciri?"

The witcher nodded, "Yes."

The Queen nodded, the fact he was willing to give his life was admirable, particularly for a man, "Very well. I give you my word. Should you fall, it shall be done."