“ I once hoped for friendship. to find a place among my kind. “ (violetwitcher)
“As we all did once. But we’re old men now, and the world hasn’t changed much.” Cato sighs, knocking back a mug of ale before offering Eolande a seat at his table. The bustle of the tavern was a low hum around them as the two witchers sat in the corner, recovering after a hard-won hunt. “But I don’t think I would fit in with nobility. Not anymore, at least.”
“You’ll always have a place with me, brother. We’re all that’s left, you and I. I’d hope you would consider me a friend.”













