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❰❰ CHIN ❱❱

“Mmm. Well hello there, Scorpion lady… would this count as your ‘poison tail aloft’? Could hear them boots stomping through the woods from miles off, your highness. So much for that elven nimbleness… still have some footwork practice to do. Aen Elle blade from back home, I take it? Heard elven swords were curved… and without crossguards. Silly to not have those… especially clashing against those deadly unicorn horns Could be used to redirect them, parry. I fail to see the superior Aen Elle logic in depriving yourselves of more defensive and combat options…”

The Witcher’s deep, calm voice observed slowly, returned with ease, unperturbed by the glinting blade to his chin, yellow, bestial eyes looking back at that otherworldly blue with amusement. He glanced about their surroundings in the woods for a moment, quite some ways away from their camp and from Scorpion. Peaceful, tranquil… drawing closer to the evening, with a light patter of falling rain around them and against her armor, and the sounds and smells of the animals in the forest, his hooded cloak shifting in the breeze. His gaze returned to the Aen Elle Queen again with a wink, and while he spoke, bringing in all her focus to his face and words, his unseen hands moved expertly and deftly below his cloak. He silently drew the long hook off his belt used for collecting his trophies and slipped it through part of the parted cloak, pressing its razor sharp, jagged blade to a particular vulnerable spot on her darkened, rain soaked, skeleton-like armor gently, tapping against the battle scarred metal next to the spot audibly, bringing her attention to his sleight of hand. Letting her see her error… smile deepening on his mutilated visage as he did so. Where the elven lady was forward and direct about what she did, brute force magic and combat, she underestimated Witcher pragmatism, agility and trickery. A simple Heliotrop Sign would deflect her blade, if it proved necessary… no need to even withdraw his meteorite steel sword… but there was no need to end things so quickly. This was their own sort of flirtation, really. Or perhaps Sca’ir was angry at him this time for something… those icy eyes were often difficult to discern, even now, after all this time. And nobody could fully know another. Perhaps a bit of swordplay was in order. Among other things. His low, amused tone continued as though nothing had happened.

“Don’t normally take kindly to blades against my throat… but you have a charming way of making a point. Did you want to come hunting with me after all? Did you want another training duel? Or do you think I’ve been looking at other pointed eared ladies, your highness?”

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a-byronic-heroine

Kly turned to the creature she’d summoned and spoke to it in Ellylon, ordering it to ram the tower they had last seen the necromancer in. It shrieked and charged at the stone tower, head down. The first impact made the stone crack and fracture like spider’s webbing. It slowly moved backwards again. For now, the other amalgamation did not rise. Kly assumed she sufficiently startled the caster. She grinned and repeated the command. Her summon charged again, and this time it broke a hole in the stone that revealed two different floors. The building seemed to rumble and undulate before resting and settling again.

“Just keep the dimeritium away from me, thank you,” she yelled as she removed her magic influence from the creature. The bones sagged, but the spine remained. They could climb it to get to the secondary floor through the hole and work their way up from there. She cast a barrier behind herself that Eskel would be able to pass but not whatever might try to pursue them. It would give them time.

She climbed up the spine easily, her heavy armor doing very little to slow her down as she made it up into the tower. Whatever room this had been, the necromancer was using it for dimensional portals. Likely what Eskel’s kind called goetia. She marched through the door that led deeper into the ruin, only to see a bright beam of magic firing her way. Kly ducked just in time for it to miss her. She glanced up and saw no one, but she heard footsteps. She had him on the run.

#wanderingwolfwitcher #witcher verse (interactions)

Kly rolled her eyes as she continued up the stairs. Leave it to Eskel to trivialize matters. That was his go to jab at her. Trying to knock her down a peg. It never worked. “Why use an inferior weapon when I can use magic? Magic has more range, more firing power and more devastation and accuracy than any silly bow or boomstick or whatever you call it. So yes, in the ways that matter, that does make me a ‘superior’ ranged fighter.” She continued up into the tower until she reached the door. Her magic reacted to her and let her pass unharmed as it would also let Eskel. “If you want a contest of ranged prowess, use one of your precious weapons against my magic. Let’s see who wins.”

The Aen Elle moved to her pack on what she always dubbed her side of the bed. The one closest to the fire. She found something to sleep in. Something that would be thick and warm and would likely deter Eskel’s roaming hands in his sleep. He usually got too overheated if she wore her wool night dress and would roll away from her. She slipped off her traveling clothes, letting them drop to the floor until she was bare. She pulled the nightdress over herself and let it fall down to her shins. On a human woman it would likely fall to their feet or drag the floor. Kly was taller than most human women though, teetering just below six feet.

Once that was done, she undid her hair and let it pool down her back in inky black waves that billowed to her lower back. She sat on her side of the bed and pulled out a comb and began to pull it through her hair. She’d need a bath tomorrow, though she would likely wait until after this little duel Eskel insisted on having for his tarnished honor. Even though she’d saved his life, the ungrateful brute. In time she was sure he’d realize what she had done wasn’t an insult but a mercy.

a-byronic-heroine

Kly rolled her eyes as she continued up the stairs. Leave it to Eskel to trivialize matters. That was his go to jab at her. Trying to knock her down a peg. It never worked. “Why use an inferior weapon when I can use magic? Magic has more range, more firing power and more devastation and accuracy than any silly bow or boomstick or whatever you call it. So yes, in the ways that matter, that does make me a ‘superior’ ranged fighter.” She continued up into the tower until she reached the door. Her magic reacted to her and let her pass unharmed as it would also let Eskel. “If you want a contest of ranged prowess, use one of your precious weapons against my magic. Let’s see who wins.”

The Aen Elle moved to her pack on what she always dubbed her side of the bed. The one closest to the fire. She found something to sleep in. Something that would be thick and warm and would likely deter Eskel’s roaming hands in his sleep. He usually got too overheated if she wore her wool night dress and would roll away from her. She slipped off her traveling clothes, letting them drop to the floor until she was bare. She pulled the nightdress over herself and let it fall down to her shins. On a human woman it would likely fall to their feet or drag the floor. Kly was taller than most human women though, teetering just below six feet.

Once that was done, she undid her hair and let it pool down her back in inky black waves that billowed to her lower back. She sat on her side of the bed and pulled out a comb and began to pull it through her hair. She’d need a bath tomorrow, though she would likely wait until after this little duel Eskel insisted on having for his tarnished honor. Even though she’d saved his life, the ungrateful brute. In time she was sure he’d realize what she had done wasn’t an insult but a mercy.

#wanderingwolfwitcher #witcher verse (interactions)