𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍 // 𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐀

02 ✟ 𝕬 𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖗'𝖘 𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖙

Geralt's wandering through Novigrad. He doesn't do that often. No, he doesn't really care about the stares, but he doesn't exactly enjoy them either. It's inevitably tiring having people judge you for literally being alive sometimes. The streets are lively in the day, filled with merchants and civilians going about their day. Everywhere he goes, people keep at least two feet from him and maybe it should aggravate him, but it doesn't really. Not much at least.

"What is that man?" A young girl asks with round eyes. Round eyes, swimming in an ocean of innocence and curiosity. Geralt looks at the girl with a plain look. Please don't start crying he thinks to himself. He keeps walking down the street searching for somewhere to rest when the night falls, but tenses as a new voice replies to the girl. The sound of the voice does something strange to Geralt. Something that makes him have to stop and look.

"How dare you speak that way Avina? That man is a very respected one, for me at least, and you would do him great if you kept quiet" Geralt furrows his eyes at the response, lips parted slightly. For me at least. His piercing eyes are looking as curious as the young girl Avina's was, the words deluging his brain and colliding into suspicion.

Trust isn't an easy thing. It's not easy for anyone, but especially not for Geralt. Who in the world would say such things, if they weren't up to something? Only noble people; Royalty and folks who hired Witchers respects them. Others are terrified of what they don't know. Anything abnormal equals scary for such ordinary people.

Geralt questionably turns around to the source of the voice. A woman is sitting next to Avina, sharpening her arrows tip with a stone tool. A clinking sound whooshes every time she strokes the arrowhead, and her hands are looking beat up from the work. She's so intensely focused on her task, she doesn't even notice Geralt's presence.

"Valerie?" Avina asks, tugging at the woman's sleeve.

"Hm?" Valerie raises her brows at the girl, who points to Geralt with a trembling finger. Avina's hair is golden blond, braided into a delicate little braid. She's sitting with a book in her lap, legs dangling from the bench next to the wielder's shop.

Valerie raises her head to Geralt's direction, who's still looking as baffled as before. "Oh, hi" she says, then right after turning back to her beloved arrows.

Hi? Is that all? Is she just gonna say hi? Geralt grunts vaguely, luckily being covered by the sound of a bard being kicked out by Innkeeper who's shouting in complain.

"I think he's mad at you" Avina says, her mouth curling downwards with a bopping chin and those pure angel eyes squinting from the sun. Her one hand is still pointing to Geralt, the other one grasping the sleeve of Valerie's dress.

"Him? No no Avina, he's just confused because I didn't insult or throw something at him. Unfortunately that's what people do towards his kind" Valerie explains to Avina with an ever so soft voice, completely ignoring the lost Geralt standing in front of her.

"What is his kind?" Now Geralt's starting to wonder if he should say something or just leave. He decided to jump the gun, he doesn't want the woman to say something about him that's erroneous. Something that will scare her off.

"I'm a Witcher" He shifts uncomfortably on his feet. He's not good at communicating with kids, but that's because most of them just cry when they meet his gaze.

The sun is blossoming on the sky, and more and more people gathered on the streets. Merchants are now yelling from their shops, trying to draw as many customers in as possible. A baker is starting to argue with a citizen, accidentally sending clouds of flour through the air with his hand gestures.

"What's a Witcher?" Avina tilts her head, looking back and forth between Valerie and Geralt with a virtuous look. They exchange looks for a quick second, the exact same thoughts going through each of their minds.