Make Me Feel Again ♕ Geralt Of Rivia

twenty six .

E L E A N O R A
forty-six years ago

I stood by the bulletin board that was filled with random pieces of paper and flyers, though only one had caught my eye. Twenty-three-year-old male, Julian Donner, gone missing.

I'm not sure what it was about it that drew me to it. Maybe it was because the subject of the piece was not much older than I am, but I wondered what it must've felt like to have the life that you'd always known taken snatched away from you.

A loud scream caught my ears, snapping my attention away from the board. My eyes wander the town square in search of where the piercing sound had originated from, but it didn't take much effort to find it at all.

Right across from where I was, a crowd had been beginning to form at the mouth of the alleyway that lead to the woods.

My legs carried me towards the commotion before I could think better of it, and I stood on my tippy-toes, peering over the shoulders of the people in front of me.

A gasp caught in my throat as my gaze finally snagged on what it was everybody was so fascinated by.

Before me, laid a man lifeless on the ground. His eyes were wide open, and though they were lifeless, I could still see the fear he must've been feeling moments before the breath was stolen from his lungs and his heart had stopped beating. His mouth was hanging open as if he was mid-scream when it all went down.

"Julian!" A heart-wrenching cry echoed through the alleyway as a woman with greying hair fell to her knees before the body, clutching the corpse to her chest. "No, please. Not my son!"

Julian. I turn to look over my shoulder instinctively, my eyes landing on the missing person flyer I was just looking at moments ago.

The cries of a mother grieving over the loss of her child were almost too much to bear and my knuckles tightened around the satchel in my hand filled with fresh groceries I'd come into town for.

Just as I was about to turn to leave, not being able to stomach watching the scene play on any longer, the odd feeling of a person's eyes on me has goosebumps running up my arm.

Letting my curiosity get the better of me, I turn back to the crowd, giving it a quick scan. It didn't take long at all before my gaze snags on those belonging to a pair of golden eyes.

"Hey, Witcher!" A voice calls from the crowd and the man lets out a grunt in acknowledgement, though his gaze never leaves mine.

Witcher? I take in his appearance, from his long white, almost silver hair to his large build, not to mention the hilt of the scarily large looking sword that was strapped to his back, he definitely fits the bill.

"How much for you to kill whatever monster did this to my son? Name your price." My eyes finally leave the Witcher to take in the man who spoke.

The man's broken appearance makes my heartache. Though he tries to stay strong, his eyes are filled with sorrow as he stands over his grief-stricken wife who is crying over their dead son's body.

"Can't do it," The Witcher grunts.

My eyes snap up to meet his gaze which has never left me.