SASKIA / @sunbentsky asked: “ could you be happy here with me ? ”
𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 at the empty bottle before them, and how the rain plipped and plopped around the rim, only a few lucky drops making it inside. The small tented shelter smelled like war still, and Iorveth was eager to leave it. But he knew better, his wounds still aching from where a storm of arrows and pierced him. They weren’t open anymore, not so much anyway, but the scars littered beneath the bandages were almost as nasty as the gaping hole that should be his eye.
Silence continued as the last drops of rain seem to fill the space like ambience, yet the question hangs loud as a drum upon the elf. Truthfully, Iorveth didn’t know what to say to her. For now, he could only remember Geralt and the mage’s conference -- the vile smile of Philippa Eilhart. The short lived oy of Vergen. And where were they now ? Some sopping forest dwelling, hidden from the outskirting villages that reached out this far ?
Iorveth bit his dry bottom lip until it bled, pushing the red cloth back down over his socket before he deigned to reply to her, wherever she lay behind him. “ You make it sound so easy, Saskia. This is not a dream to drift into, even if the sun’s rays peeking through the boughs tricks one of us to believe so. ”