@metalheir ; starter !!
THE ACIDIC TASTE OF EARTH still hasn’t left geralt’s tongue by the time he hears a far away door open. creaking inwards by the sound, allowing for the low murmur of tones and footsteps that head with purpose in his direction. all of it’s familiar by now to geralt. skellige. nilfgaard. temeria. even cintra’s makeshift, trick prison cell was recognizable in shape and concept. cities container multitudes of prisons for the captured to rot away in, forgotten and unwanted. some can’t stand to let a witcher lie. others don’t realize what beast they’ve imprisoned. or think he can stand to wither for months before being given trial. at least this city seems to be leaning towards the former. cities that want to make fool of a witcher tend to regret that choice, axii or aard or simple snapping of wrists and thieving of keys.
no, geralt thinks as the steps end and a woman comes into view before where he kneels, meditative and quiet, she wouldn’t let someone with two swords and an bloody argument with her people wait. every inch of her is stock still. prideful. there’s an odd instinctual familiarity to her that has geralt raising his head to look into her eyes with more curiosity than anything cruel. magic lingers in the back of his mind and for now he lets it stay there. palms flat down upon his knees as geralt tilts his head to the left.
smiles, barely and flickering, no humor in the act. “should i expect no fair trial? after all, it’s your people’s word against my own.”
