WITCHER

big wip, lmao

[ofvbrg]

@ovrivia cont.

A smile plays upon her lips, the sorceress having followed him the entire time. Though she complained and appeared to be the worst travel companion, Yennefer couldn’t be happier. To be out in the middle of nowhere with the one she adored was the ember that kept her cold heart from completely freezing solid. She lived for these times.

“I suppose I’m being overly-critical. After all, you’re to keep me warm tonight.” Teasing, she brushed some of his hair back. “Wouldn’t want you to change your mind.”

[ofrva]

❝ Probably wouldn’t change my mind for all the crowns in the world. ❞ The ghost of a smile crept across his face. 

❝ Probably. ❞

Geralt laid the stones in a small circle and filled that circle with the sticks he’d gathered. The sun wasn’t down just then, so he walked back over to Roach to retrieve his sleeping roll and cookware. This was muscle memory for him; just another day on the path. But Yenn? She wasn’t a ‘rough-it’ kind of girl. Cities like Oxenfurt and isolated keeps were where he had always known her to feel most at home. He was surprised by the minimal amount of complaining she had done. Of course, the night was still young. 

Walking back to their makeshift campsite, arms full, he set the bedroll a few meters away from the bonfire and dashed the old, iron pan and cutlery against the stones that surrounded the pitch. With a simple utterance of, “igni,” the center of the fire-pit was alight.

The flames rose higher and higher, the smell of ozone burning filling the air. Geralt took a seat by the fire and patted the grass beside him. 

❝ Area’s safe. Least for now. ❞ Said Geralt, holding his medallion. 

[ofvbrg]

@ofrva

“Are we almost there, Geralt ?” Yennefer inquired, sliding off Roach and regaining her balance. They were finally taking a break after riding the poor horse for what felt like an eternity. Tossing her favorite Rivian a look, her hands rested on her hips.

“I’m getting saddle sore and you absolutely reek, my love.” 

[ofrva]

❝ Suppose we can stop here for the night. ❞ 

Geralt gives Roach’s pall a few soft pats; a nonverbal reassurance of his gratitude, lest the mare think him one to take their bond for granted. Throwing his legs over the side of the saddle, he jumps off of the horse and leads her over to be hitched at a nearby oak, a spot with some shade and a patch of tasty looking greens for her to graze on, but not far from where he intends to make camp. 

Once fastened to the tree, he begins to collect sticks and small stones for the fire. Looking back over his shoulder, he proffers Yenn a raised brow. 

❝ Do I really smell that bad? ❞

[ofrva]

"Tired already? But we've only just begun, witcher.~"

ONE BOTTLE OF TEMERIAN ALE LATER…

❝ Guess I wasn’t expecting you to be so… voracious. ❞

Truly, she had caught him unaware, not expecting that the witch–with whom he’s shared a tenuous relationship, at best–would so readily pounce upon him with the fervor of an animal in heat. Craning his neck forward to glance down at the witch, who’s firmly settled herself betwixt his thighs, a low groan rumbles his throat. ❝ Witchers are known for their boundless wealth of stamina, you know. Could do this all night. ❞

[riviia]

I’ll just have a peek. 

[maksimenka]

Too close .//////.

[ofrva]

"Take off your clothes."

❝ Charming. ❞

The WHITE WOLF leaned back in his chair and howled a hearty, yet off-kilter, belly laugh, gloved hands coming together in a mock round of applause. YENNEFER may have been the better of their two halves outside of the bedroom; her etiquette tactful and her mannerisms regal, he allowed her to take the lead. But when it came to matters of intimacy, Geralt was the one in charge. 

❝ I didn’t hear a please in there. ❞

[ofvbrg]

     The stench of the stables was enough to keep her out, finding it unnecessary to damage her nose if he was willing to do so to his.  The sorceress, feeling annoyingly affectionate, hikes herself up behind Geralt, arms secured around his waist. 

“We keep heading toward the coast. Just in case she took a boat to the islands. Someone… must know something.”

     It wasn’t a question.

“If we head out now and keep stopping to a minimum, we should arrive in a few days.” She gives a playful squeeze, head against his back, “… A minimum, Geralt, so control yourself.”

[ofrva]

Yennefer’s logic is sound, so Geralt doesn’t argue. In another life, she would have made an excellent Witcher, he thinks to himself. Once he feels her arms secured around his waist, they’re off. Traffic parts for the unassuming couple and little is spoken of their departure from the nameless village. Not a soul bids them farewell, not even the stable-hand.

❝ Can’t make any promises. ❞ He teases, goading Roach onward with a firm kick of his heels. ❝ Got to be a few damsels between here and there that need saving. ❞

Steering Roach onto the main road, he turns his head briefly over his shoulder to see the sorceress’ reaction to his snark, a smirk carefully hidden behind a collar of boiled leather. 

[nurnarchive-deactivated20191217]

“Very few mammals have symbiotic relationships with other animals. One of the few exceptions is the raven and the wolf. Ravens are sometimes known as “wolf-birds” because they form social attachments with wolves. They play with the wolves by diving at them and then speeding away or pecking their tails to try to get the wolves to chase them.”

[addictdtoblack]

[ofvbrg]

“One of MANY, my love.”

     She heaves a sigh as he spoke, hood over her raven curls. At least he remembered the important bits. No matter, even if their cover was blown, they would find Ciri. There was no failure to be had. If they couldn’t locate Ciri…

     No. They would.

“Refugees, yes. Although I’d say we’re not very hidden with your two swords and my outfit. We keep interactions to a minimum, yes? Especially with MAIDENS?”

[ofrva]

Upon entering the stables, the rancid smell of horse manure assaults Geralt’s sensitive sinuses. Waving his hand in front of his face in a vain attempt to rid the air of the foul odor, he approaches the stable boy. A good lad, by all accounts. He hadn’t been working the previous afternoon when they had arrived, but his uncle spoke very highly of the boy. ❛ He’ll saddle your horses right up, free of charge. ❜

A dozen or so orens find their way into the young man’s hands as Geralt passes by him wordlessly. Happy to see her rider return, Roach whinnies. Geralt gives her a pat on the neck and takes her reigns into his hands. ❝ Miss me? ❞ 

She champed impatiently in response. ❝ That’a girl. ❞

Trotting out of the stable, he passes Yennefer and teases, ❝ coming? ❞

[ofrva]

TAG DROP

[ofvbrg]

    A roll of her lilac eyes indicated dissatisfaction. Despite her infamous ways of telling only what she felt she needed to, Yennefer despised the same treatment. Mainly from Geralt.

    However, she would not prod. She wasn’t there to mother him.

With the last of her preparations complete, which involved a thirty minute beauty routine, she made her way out to join the Witcher.

“You look as though you’ve been living in a hole for the past week,” She snickered, fastening her cloak around her shoulders, “Yet you’ve just woken up in an overpriced inn after taking a bath the night prior. Simply astounding.”

[ofrva]

❝ It’s a talent. ❞ He returns, flashing her the ghost of a smirk.

As they make their way out into the crowded streets of the village, Geralt pulls the cowl of his raglan cloak over his head to better hide his unkempt mane of silver hair. Turning his head over his shoulder, he motions for Yennefer to do the same. They can’t risk being made by anyone with ties to Radovid, or so Yennefer has told him. When they first set out to find Ciri all those months ago, she had come up with a cover story that Geralt can’t seem to recall now. A prudent measure. In these dangerous times, the line between paranoia and vigilance becomes ever more obscure.

Geralt walks in step with the sorceress, their path to the stables relatively traffic free. ❝ What was our cover again? Can’t seem to remember. Something about being Zerrakanian refugees?❞

[ofvbrg]

@ofrva cont.

“What is it?” Yennefer is quick to notice his aura, one of distress and a need to move on. He could hide nothing from her, no matter how hard he tried. It was getting that information from him that was difficult, to put it lightly.

     She, too, rose and shook the veil of sleep from her mind, assembling her outfit.

“Another nightmare?”

[ofrva]

Geralt doesn’t reply, which is all the answer she needs.

He doesn’t bother getting properly dressed; ties on his leather cuirass are left unfastened, chausses hang loosely from his ragged breeches. To his knowledge, they aren’t going to see any lords or ladies, and he scarcely believes that Yennefer will even notice a difference.

Pulling his twin blades over his shoulder with inhuman ease, he backs up against a small table in the corner of the room and folds his arms across his chest. Yennefer hates it when his eyes linger on her for too long, says it’s rude to stare, but he can’t help himself: the mere sight of her sets his soul AFLAME. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he pushes himself off of the table and makes for the door.

❝ Meet you outside. ❞

[ofrva]

"What time is it..?" The sorceress grumbles against her pillow, having not so secretly stolen most of the blanket in the night.

GERALT jolts awake, his body moving faster than his mind. Despite the lack of blankets, his form is saturated in a thin layer of perspiration. Torpor makes his lids heavy, but he’s just barely able to summon fortitude enough to hold them open.

❝ Too early. ❞ The witcher grumbles, rubbing fatigue from his eyes. Under normal circumstances, he’d be embittered by the loss of sleep, but these aren’t normal circumstances. He’s had a nightmare, one more intense than any in recent memory. More so than most mornings, he’s eager to be off. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he retrieves his trousers from the floor and pulls them on.