{Based off the Netflix Series}
The stories of Geralt of Rivia, of monsters, of Nilfgaard. That is what they are. Just stories. Just as the stories of Greek Gods and Goddesses have become stories, or the Norse Gods. Very few believe of this mythology...
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Inhaling deeply, Charlotte was trying to think of anything other than the feeling of this odd make-shift pad she created. Her periods would usually last five days and she was currently on her fourth. So hopefully, she'll stop bleeding from her uterus and no longer feel as if God himself was punching her guts. It was as if her body was angry because she failed to create a child.
In addition to this mess, she was also still travelling with Geralt. Which wasn't exactly pleasant either. Especially since the two barely shared a few sentences with one another a day. He'd comment on something and she'd make a retort and vice versa. Something she noticed was how if something bothered her, Geralt would emphasise it tenfold.
Meaning he enjoyed it when she got aggravated with him. Probably the only emotion he could muster from her other than stoicism. Charlotte would do her best to not talk while he dealt with whatever he was dealing with. She didn't want to become apart of anything, especially when people began to assume she was Geralt's woman or something like that. All because Jaskier wanted to paint some ridiculous tale by singing about Geralt of Rivia. Which included Charlotte no matter what.
"As a thank you for your help-"
Charlotte was handed the gift for Geralt. She jolted when the large bottle was set in her arms, having to double take when she realized it was a bottle of alcohol. She scoffed. In no way was she Geralt's servant either. She wasn't his anything. Nor did she plan for that to ever change. For now she was with him until she could figure out how to get back home or find whoever was trying to get to her time.
Geralt grunted as a response to them, already moving to leave. And with his departure came Charlotte's smile. She was glad to leave this town. It was heavily sexist. So knowing that they were leaving was nice.
Charlotte held the bottle up for a moment, trying to figure out the specific alcohol inside. After another beat, she gave up. Instead, she popped the lid off and tilted the bottle until the liquids were falling into her mouth. Once she was done chugging, what seems to be, a large portion of the bottle. She wiped her lips and extended her arm to Geralt.
"Drink?"
Geralt had already been looking over at her, untying Roach's reins. He paused in his movements and accepted the bottle. Grabbing at the bottom of the bottle, almost as if he was avoiding their hands touching. Which Charlotte found oddly peculiar, but did not comment upon it.
"Where to next, then?" Charlotte asks calmly, as if this wasn't the most she said to him in days. Possibly due to her mood swings and not entirely being in a state where she'd like to hold a conversation with someone as her uterus did jumping jacks.
"There's another town, an hour ride or so away." Geralt answers tossing the bottle back to her, "I figured we'd rest there."
"Hm." Charlie hummed softly, tilting the bottle back to finish whatever remains. She wiped her lips once again, using her thumb to get the liquid off. Her eyes connected with Geralt's and she cleared her throat. "Shall we go then? I'd like to sleep in a bed rather than the ground."
