GWYNBLEIDD // gehwalt offered: It doesn’t matter if we all die.
“ 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. 𝐈𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍’𝐓 . ” Iorveth replied with a hint of smugness carrying itself in his eye to hear Geralt say so. He pulled out his pipe and began to pack herbs into it as leant his back against a tree. At their feet laid the slain arachas, its large legs curled in on itself, frozen from its last death throes.
Ever casual after a beast fight, Iorveth finally managed to light his pipe and took a soothing inhale, letting the smoke billow out between them up into the trees. He continued, “ Your kind has been extinct for centuries now, Gwynbleidd. Don’t be fooled by your little Kaer Morhen and the lingering existence of that wretch Letho. Dh’oine have no further use of you just as they have spat up the elves once our use had expired . ”