Reincarnation ➵ The Witcher

vii.

EDITH had lost track of the time she had been stuck behind the bars taunting her freedom. She was very sure she had seen vermin scuttle across her cell a few times, too, and to say she wasn't the least bit scared of the cat sized rats she would be lying. The Witcher, Geralt, hadn't spoken to her since her digs despite her attempts to start up a conversation which left her in a boredom that wouldn't leave. Her father was still nothing more than a limp body held up by a few chains and no one had yet descended the stairs that leads to freedom. Edith was simply bored, and as she led staring up at the celling, she'd wish whoever had caged them would atleast get their punishment over with already.

"You dead?" Geralt's voice was finally heard after the everlasting silence he'd granted her with.

"I thought Witcher's are suppose to know these things."

"Do I look like a psychic to you?"

Edith narrowed her eyes at his sassiness, "No, you look like a bit of a prick if I'm going to be honest."

Geralt turned towards her slouched position, yellow eyes narrowed, however, he couldn't stop the small amount of amusement from blooming.

"Is that why you're always staring?"

Edith felt crimson spread across her cheeks, "I wasn't staring!"

"What do you call it then?"

"I-I was glaring at you, actually."

"Glaring?"

"Yes. Glaring."

"Right." Geralt sounded as if he didn't believe Edith, and he was smart to do so as well, because even Edith knew she was blatantly staring at Geralt, but she'd never admit it. She simply couldn't help it, he looked so familiar it was almost scary, but Edith still didn't know where she'd seen him from.

Edith sighed in resignation, "How long have we been down here?"

"Not long."

"Really? Sure feels like long."

"That's because you haven't shut up once since you've awoken, girl." Prick.

Edith stopped herself from replying with an obvious backhanded insult, instead choosing to read the scratched murals on the wall. Most of it was simple words like "help" and "death" and she couldn't help but wonder whether or not this was how she would die. She wondered if she'd die of dehydration and of course, boredom, with an irritating Witcher to the left of her. Geralt couldn't of cared less for the situation, he'd knew he would some how get out of it. He was like a cat with nine lives, only difference being he was a Wolf.

Edith was ready to poke the metaphorical bear again with her words, however, heavy footsteps stopped her in her wake. Edith's eyes darted over to the wooden staircase, where she saw a large, balding man descending with a sword in his hand. But not any sword, no, the Witcher's sword. In his other hand he held keys, keys that tauntingly swung as he walked and only worked further to remind Edith of her predicament. Great. Just another irritating prick to bug her.

Surprisingly, he walked straight towards Geralt's cell before stopping in front of it, "Today's your lucky day, Witcher." he exclaimed, grubby hands working on the lock of the cell. Geralt watched cautiously, he knew there was some sort of catch. There was always some sort of catch, however, as he glanced towards Edith to see her already watching him with a slight frown on her face he already knew he would come back for her. Sure, she didn't know when to shut the fuck up, but she wasn't all that bad. Hell, she was a lot better than most of the company he'd found himself with in the past.

The cell swung open with a creak, and as the man entered Geralt watched him like a predator surveying it's prey. The man watched him back, but his gaze was filled with an underlying fear. A fear Geralt had seen many times before, a fear he'd been given as a result of being a Witcher. The keys jingled as he walked closer to Geralt, and as he approached Geralt could smell the scent of alcohol surrounding his figure in a glaze. The man bent down, first placing the Witcher's sword on the ground next to him before his hands cautiously worked on the chains surrounding Geralt's hands uncomfortably.

The notable 'click' was heard before Geralt's hands were lowered, "Mayor' wants to talk with you, Witcher." Geralt nodded slowly, and already guessed what this Mayor wanted. The balding man had left the cell, footsteps echoing across the prison before he ascended the staircase. Geralt turned to look towards Edith through the bars, only to see her led back on that dingy piece of cloth, eyes narrowed once again to the ceiling above her.

"Stay here, girl." Geralt rasped, and Edith was surprised by his demand. She nodded her head nonetheless though, and watched him with a slight jealousy of his freedom. Lucky bastard..

"Where else am I gonna go, Witcher?" Geralt internally rolled his eyes at Edith, the girl really didn't know when to shut the fuck up, before following in the balding mans footsteps with his sword in his hands. As much as he'd hate to admit it, he'd be back for Edith once he'd done whatever the Mayor wanted of him.

3rd update of the day whoop whoop