Reincarnation ➵ The Witcher

vi.

EDITH had awoken with a banging headache and a firey anger for her father. Not only did he get himself locked away in the grimey cells hidden beneath the town, he had gotten her locked in them too with a growing bump stinging on the back of her head. Her eyes took a while to adjust to the slight darkness, but when they did, she wished they didn't. Her cell was claustrophobically small, a small piece of ripped and damp cloth acted as a makeshift bed for Edith. The wall behind her frame was covered in all sorts of scratch marks with names and dates that were written moons ago. The place smelt of damp and decay with the strong scent of piss hanging in the air. Oh, for God's sake. Edith really wondered why she even bothered with her fathers drunk adventures, with Edith currently holding the opinion of her father being a complete fool.

Edith then took notice of the other prisoners accompanying her. Her father was in the cell across from her, face battered and bloody with his hands chained to the wall. From this distance, Edith could tell he was still unconscious. Serves him right. She scolded herself after for her thoughts, John was still her father despite the anger lashing her emotions.

Her hands weren't chained like John's, which she was a little grateful for, however, they weren't the only ones locked up behind the rotting bars. No, as to the left of Edith's cell was a man; a man she knew all too well with hair even paler than ash. His hair wasn't the most shocking feature she was able to see, because from the lack of his cloak she had a clear view of his eyes. Yellow eyes, yellow eyes with even more wisdom than she had - eyes she had seen time and time ago, but eyes her father had warned her of. A Witcher chained like a dog.

His hands were chained just like John's, and his sword was long gone from his grasp. He seemed little bothered though, as his eyes almost glowed in the darkness of the cell with a few gashes scattered across his face.

Edith watched him for a few minutes before deciding to address him, "Geralt, I see you've made many friends." Her throat ached from speaking, lips chapped from the beginnings of dehydration.

"Speak for yourself, girl." Geralt's eyes flickered over to her form, her appearance that was once neat was now raggard and fit the image of a poor, peasant girl.

"Aren't Witchers suppose to be scary?"

"Depends," He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, "aren't ghosts suppose to be scary?"

It took Edith a second to understand what he was saying, until a frown over took her face. He was throwing her own words back at her, and she had to stop a small smile of her own breaking out across her face.

"Very funny, Witcher."

"Mhm, quite."

"What are you here for anyway? Did you stab someone with that pointy sword of yours?" Edith questioned with a raised eyebrow, seating herself against the wall Geralt was chained against further down.

Geralt rolled his eyes, arms almost numb from constant raised position of his arms, "Something like that."

"..Is that Witcher for 'yes'?"

"No, it's Witcher for 'none of your business'." Edith tried hard to reign in an unlady-like snort from escaping her lips; annoying Geralt was so humorous she'd almost forgot the position they were all currently stuck in. Geralt wasn't humoured, no, he was annoyed being chained like some cattle being ready to be sent to the butcher, and even worse - he was chained in a prison with a dead girl in the cell next to him. Well, once dead girl.

Geralt should have been more careful with his identity, he knew many towns no longer accepted the company of Witchers, or any sort of person or creature away from the usual label of 'human'. He was sloppy, and made a mistake of allowing too many people to know who he was. He was the White Wolf, and he was chained like a dog.

"How do we leave this place?" Edith questioned, noticing the lack of presence for any sort of guards.

"There is no 'we' in this situation, girl."

"It sure looks like there is, Witcher. Because if I'm not mistaken we are both stuck behind a cell and a wall." Edith sassed, watching as the permanent scowl returned on his face without a minute to spare.

Edith gazed back at her father who still hung helplessly like a puppet without it's master and couldn't help but think that John deserved this. Maybe this is the warning he needed to stray away from the ale and instead focus on his family and the rest of his life ahead of him. But secretly, Edith knew John wouldn't change. John refused to change for her mother, why would she be any different?

A/N - Sorry for the repetitive updates, I'm literally obsessed with writing this book lmao. Enjoy tho (;