Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
❝ Don't talk to Ros, ❞
Geralt of Rivia
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I was perched comfortably on Roach as we travelled up the Valley's dirt roads in search of the hamlet's devil. Geralt walked alongside me, leading the quiet mare by the reins. My braid thumped gently against my back with each stride the main took.
"Is there a reason you brought me along?" I finally asked as I looked down at the large man. Geralt continued to look ahead, his features void of all emotion - as usual. "I don't exactly have experience when it comes to hunting devils."
"You have a tendency to attract trouble," Geralt said as if it were obvious.
"So with me around, you're more likely to find this creature?"
"No." He said, eyeing me from the corner of his eye. "You're more likely to get yourself killed in Posada by yourself than with me fighting monsters,"
I laughed, a raw snort of amusement that came bursting out through my nose entirely without my permission. "I'm sure I would have survived. I've done just fine without you for three years." I told him with mirth.
"And how many more scares have you gained without me?" Geralt asked, his question though teasing was laced with curiosity. His eyes flickered to the scar peeking out from under my sleeve as I ran my fingers through Roach's mane.
"Did you miss me?" I teased, unable to hide my grin. Geralt only grunted and turned away without an answer. My smile widened, "I missed you as well," I admitted before quickly adding, "Though I could definitely go another three years without drinking another one of your horrid tonics."
Before Geralt could reply, the sound of heavy footfalls racing towards them caught their attention. I was the only one to turn around at the sound why Geralt kept moving ahead, already knowing who was approaching them.
"Need a hand?" the young bard from the inn, Jaskier, asked as he clumsily ran up the hill to catch up to us. "I've got two. One for each of the, uh, devil's horns."
