#shinesdifferently

[benefiscience]

@shinesdifferently

Dear Geralt,

I hope this letter finds you well and in good health! I am doing fine, my work is keeping me busy day and night with hardly enough downtime to sit down and do anything at all that’s unrelated to my practice!

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I’m complaining, I knew what I came here for, and it certainly wasn’t to be idle. Sometimes I wonder where the point is to all this, if that makes any sense? I know I’m making a difference, but lately I’ve been asking myself more and more if it’s enough of one. We’re working day and night and regardless of what we do, for every person that we can help, even if it’s just by easing the pain of their final hours, there seem to be ten more turning up in dire need of healing. All because of this stupid war. Redanian, Temerian, Kaedweni, Nilfgaardian, why does it have to matter so much that people don’t think twice of killing each other over it? How many more will have to die before the powers that be realise that this is pointless?If it wasn’t so harrowing it would almost be funny, the fact that all they are thinking about is winning when in reality no one ever really wins in war, do they?

I’m sorry Geralt, I’m rambling and I should probably throw this letter in the fire, but I don’t have the time to start another one and we are subject to very strict rationing – including parchment and ink! 

So without further ado I’ll come to the reason for writing to you in the first place.

I need your help. All of us do. We’re having some real problems with necrophages, I mean, they always turn up sooner or later wherever there’s a battle going on but these ones... if nothing is going to get done about them sooner or later the field hospital is going to end up more or less besieged by them. It’s like the damn things have grown tired of waiting for people to die before they descend on them!!!

I know it’s a lot to ask and a long way to travel, but I don’t know of any other witchers in the area and even if I did... I’ve always trusted you the most.

I just hope this letter reaches you and you can find it within yourself to travel to Kaedwen to help an old friend once again. There’s payment to be had as well, of course, that goes without saying.

Now I must close, I never intended to spend so much time sitting down and writing this letter. There’s work to be done.

I hope that I will see you soon!

Shani

P.S.: If you end up passing through Vizima on your way, would you be so kind as to check in on my grandmother for me? Make sure everything is alright with her, if there is anything she needs? It’s been a while since I’ve had a letter but hopefully that’s just because of the war and nothing bad has befallen her.

[looksmashing]

A fortunate coincidence

@shinesdifferently

The tavern, not much more than a hovel that smelled like beer and piss, was an unfortunate necessity for Keira. She had drawn attention when she entered, of course, but she had merely bought a drink and some bread and found a place in the back that was tolerably grimy (unfortunately there were no ungrimy options) to sit.

She pulled a book from her satchel, it was bound in red leather and clearly well loved, and began pouring over the pages of delicate cursive script. She ignored the chatter around her; ‘she’s right comely, that one’, ‘i bet she’s a sorceress, they eat the men they plough, ya know’, ‘I’d take my chances with her anyway’, ‘needs a bit more meat on her though, I reckon’.

None of it was of much interest to her until, ‘It’s a striga, I’m telling you master witcher, been roaming these parts for years.’ Keira looked up to see what witcher was after her prize.

Well, well, well.

Even from behind she knew who it was, the white hair gave him away. This was all turning our much better than she could have hoped.

“Geralt!” She beamed as she approached him at the bar. “I think destiny is throwing us together.” Her smile became wry, she knew how much Geralt loathed destiny and rightly so, frankly, destiny had screwed him over. “I’m interested in that striga too.”

[avvaress]

@shinesdifferently

“Y’know, for a cold-blooded, heartless mutant, you’re a bit of a soft touch, cat-eyes.”

Surra’s grin was plain as day as she glanced over at her latest white-haired traveling companion, admiring the way the morning sun gave him an outline that was a golden as his eyes. Even though the words she used were the very same ones that villagers had accusingly called Geralt last night, they took on a different feel when spoken in Surra’s voice. Her tone carried no hate or malice, and in their absence the slurs lost their harshness entirely so all that remained was a teasing sort of gentleness. 

“I’m no monster huntin' expert, but even I know the price that you took our latest contract for is a bit low, seein’ as it was for a katakan and all.” Which was a shame, since she couldn’t reason with a katakan like she could with some of the other monsters; they were just too damn bloodthirsty. Rolling her eyes in annoyance at the thought, Surra ran a hand idly through her hair as the two of them trotted down the dirt-packed road on their horses, heading in the direction of the next village and whatever monsters awaited them there. “Best be careful, or I’ll start to think you’re actually a decent man.”

She winked at him before clicking her tongue so that Vojvoda picked up the pace, cantering a couple paces ahead of Roach so that the two of them could take the lead. Above them, Korvo circled lazily on the thermal currents of the morning, and a gentle caress at the back of her mind informed Surra that Mahon, Rayka, and Aatu were waiting for them just down the road, hidden in the foliage. Apparently they wanted to “surprise greet” Geralt — hence the hiding —to see if they could get the Witcher to crack one of his rare, genuine smiles.

[seabrazen-m]

@shinesdifferently

There was always something exhilarating finding oneself in a new city. Fresh sights, fresh faces, fresh smells --- some not so fresh smells. The newness of it all and adventure, no less dangerous than scouring ruins or tampering with ancient relics. Isabela welcomed this excursion with open arms and a greedy, thirsting pocket. Best of all new cities meant new opportunities, and new opportunities meant more booty for her bounty. A particular interest had drawn her here, rumors spoken in hushed tongues that she simply couldn't allow to slip through her fingers. Gold a heavy motivator no matter the occasion, for when had money ever steered her wrong or led her astray?

Often, but that was hardly the point.

The seas had treated her roughly on her journey to Novigrad, but even as it first spanned the horizon she knew it was worth it ( she could forgive the sea for her foul temper, for every great thing was subject to fits and it was a battle she gleefully engaged in --- so long as she didn't end up marooned once more, bitter as a spurned lover in the wrecked of her vessel ). It was beautiful. Port cities often were, a viewpoint that could be read as biased all things considered. A venture further than any she had taken before and one she knew would be worth it.

Upon landing she attended to all the tedious things she needed, which involved using her quick tongue and spare coin to ease suspicion of a pirate ship docked in the bay. Next was the notice. A simple invitation, for she knew the skill set she would require and much to her own dismay she was lacking it. Word of Witches had reached her ears some time ago, who better to lend her a hand than one of those. Dangerous, not the most liked of people, excellent trackers and fighters --- just the type of person she liked best to associate with. There was the promise of gold, though the amount went unspecified and she would certainly hope to keep it that way.

With all the important things taken care of the captain could attend to things of more... personal importance. The bar greeted her with the heady smell of cheep booze, bad food, and various foul body orders, but to her such smells might as well have conjured up images of home. Belonging. She could afford to go elsewhere, but why would she when all the real excitement took place in these shit holes ( not that she wouldn't pay somewhere else a visit, for there was little more enjoyable than making the rich and pompous uncomfortable ). Getting to know the city could come later, getting herself piss drunk first and foremost was practically sacred custom.

[lilacessence]

@shinesdifferently.

Yennefer had never known peace like it. For so many years she had been kept on her toes, travelling from one place to the next, getting mixed up in matters of politics, wielding magic and helping fight against the evils of the world. But all of that was over now, no longer did she have to live in fear for Ciri, for Geralt, for the so many uncertain outcomes of her decisions. Finally, Yennefer could do as she always wanted, to live a life of solitude and peacefulness, alongside the person the idea only seemed appealing with, Geralt.

She could recall quite clearly when she had revealed to him that her deepest desire was to share a life with him in a cottage by the sea and knew then that her words might have been hastily spoken by the onset of war and the prospect that the outcome might not have been what they hoped. Thankfully, they had not been tore apart and thus her dream of a quiet life could be granted, willing that Geralt felt the same, which he did. For so long their life together had been made up of brief encounters before being tore away from each other again, their connection mainly out of worry for the other, that and a collision of mixed up feelings.

“Where to next?” Came her cool tone when she finally left the small cabin on the mountainside, too busy lost in thought to join Geralt sooner. This was their life now, she supposed. Travelling from one place to the next, each place as astonishingly beautiful as the last. There was no great need to rush, no one waiting for them - they simply had their freedom, a thing Yennefer had forgotten. However, as peaceful as their life together was, in the back of her mind she was all too aware of the reality of their situation. Yennefer was a sorceress and Geralt a Witcher, as much as they wanted this life, their blood was too restless to keep it. Every time they changed places, a part of her expected it to end.

[theeternalsun]

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[cireaella-archive-blog]

shinesdifferently​ liked for a starter.

“i understand your concern, but it’s rather unnecessary. i will be alright.”

as she always is--- a promise she vows to never break. just barely knicked by the sword of a wandering cutthroat; nearly nothing in comparison to the wild hunt warriors who pursued her so relentlessly prior. ivory gauze is wrung around the wound, splattering white with red as if it is a canvas and her blood is the paint. 

a minor cut with a sharp sword is nothing that ciri hasn’t had the pleasure of enduring prior. ever so often her recklessness leads her to believe that her fighting methods may be lacking precision and calculation. surprising, given the sheer amount of times she had escaped unscathed, partially due to the dreaded gift that pulses through her veins.

ciri thinks it a curse given all that had transgressed.

“got ‘em good, you know. should be proud of me!”

[coalheart-blog1]

╳ shinesdifferently ╳

Keira needed some sort of component from a zeugl, part of its tissue and a teeth or something. Lambert smirked to himself, thinking he’ll get a sample of everything just to annoy her, even the contents of its stomach.

Of course he was well-prepared for this fight, a zeugl was not a joke and definitely not a walk in the park. They were tricky fuckers who you had to keep a constant eye on, otherwise you might get a surprise attack from a tentacle and you’re already on your way towards its massive mouth. The witcher had all sorts of potions with him including thunderbolt, swallow, cat and tawny owl. He was also fully equipped with bombs, hoping to start with a few of them as greeting to the beast.

There were rumours that one has nested again in the sewers of Vizima but no reports spoke of its size, probably no one wanted to go close enough to make sure, and if they have... they probably couldn’t get away in time.

Lambert got to the bottom of the ladder, the stench of the sewers filling his lungs that made his nose wrinkle.

“ The things I do for you, Keira... “

He mumbled to himself as he took out a vial of cat and drank its contents. He definitely didn’t want to miss anything in the dark. As his senses swung into full gear, a light glow appeared in his eyes then the next second it was gone. Slowly he started to make his way deeper into the sewers, keeping an eye out for drowners as well.

He probably walked for around fifteen minutes and fought a group of drowners without much difficulty when he could hear approaching steps. His eyes darted in the direction of the noise and slowly drew his steel sword. This was no monster, though it moved quietly enough that he could barely hear it.

“ The zeugl is mine, so you can turn around now and fuck off! “

He spoke with a raised tone but still not shouting, sword held in a fairly relaxed way in his hand. He presumed that someone with steps like that must be a witcher and he might have competition for the trophy.

He wasn’t wrong, and when he could finally see the figure appear from behind the corner, his eyes widened and a smirk appeared on his lips.

“ Should have thought it was you. “