Never Fall In Love Again

   Geralt was, for the most part, a PATIENT man.

   His profession called for it,  should he wish to keep his head–literally and figuratively–upon his shoulders in the face of monsters and humans ALIKE (and, in an unsurprisingly high number of cases, in the face of those who were a mix of both). He learned not to act RASHLY (certainly something that came with AGE and wisdom, as Vesemir was prone to reminding him was attributed to growing up), and given how much of the world he had seen–he had theMISFORTUNE of seeing–he learned the opportune moments to be calm and the moments toACT.

   This predicament, though? This–thus far MEANINGLESS–conversation with the hotheaded fae refusing to put aside her own discriminatory feelings despite her being frustrated byOTHERS’ (strangely reminiscent of elves Geralt had mingled with in Novigrad)? It had naught to do with patience and all to do with TOLERATION.

   That which was running progressively THIN in the witcher.

   While he permitted her the OPINION she snarled through the branches as malevolently as the townsfolk regarded her, Geralt had already decided his next course of action: the end of aCHARADE he had since discovered did very little to ease her fiery TEMPER. Like a father waiting for a rebellious daughter to finish having a FIT, the witcher stood in silence while she spit at him, and his golden leer into the branches was marked by an unamused quirk of his brow.

   He watched the branch SNAP by the irritated smack of her hand, attention not trailing after the leaves that flurried down, but the face now more VISIBLE in the reproachful glare pointed his way like daggers. Meeting it without the tiniest flinch, “If you’re DONE–” Geralt uncrossed his arms, his own gaze narrowing back at her.

   “I did come here to talk. Not had much of a chance to do it FAST–had to get your own fill ofwhining in first–but now that it’s well out of your SYSTEM, I’ll interject,” he said, his tone no less calm than before, but low and GUTTURAL. “Actually not from that town; I’m a witcher. Hired toDEAL with the problem, assumed to be you, but thing is, I know better. So I’m giving you the chance to defend your case and let me know what’s really going on around here. Just doing my job–FAIRLY as I can.

   “Human prejudice against anything DIFFERENT? Always been a problem. Always will be. Not something I can fix any better than anyone else has tried. So best MOVE ON.”  Geralt canted his head. “So, tell me; what have you been up to?”

Even after absorbing the brunt of her anger, the human remained unfazed. If anything he’d merely gained an annoyed crease to his brow and a generally fed-up air. 

‘Good,’ Marianne thought with a smirk. Dishing out her own dose of the frustration she’d dealt with over the past few days was nothing if not deserved. Let the humans have a taste of their own medicine. 

Unfortunately her amusement was quick to fade, replaced with offense and a fresh spike of anger that warped her features when he dared speak to her like a petulant child. A hand fisted on the hilt of her sword, while the other gripped a branch tight enough for the crackling of bark to be audible. 

Just as she was about to release another tirade, however, Marianne actually processed his words—the parts that didn’t make her want to punch that patronizing look off his face, at least. 

A witcher. That the townspeople had hired to deal with her. 

Marianne’s jaw dropped. Brown eyes refocused on him with double the scrutiny as before. A dozen facts clicked into place as she did so: the weapons he carried, his ready-for-a-fight attire, his fearlessness at following her so deep into the woods. Of course he was a witcher. How had she not seen it before?

“Seriously?!” she finally managed once her thoughts finished floundering. She gestured at him in an incredulous, sweeping motion. “Those bastards hired a witcher to come after me? Of all the stupid, ungrateful—“

Her rant devolved into a series of curses. All of the frustration churning in her stomach turned sour as she forced it down with an angry huff. And she’d been having so much fun picking on this guy. Honestly she felt a little cheated. Confident in her abilities as she was, even Marianne wasn’t reckless enough to pick a fight with a witcher. 

Leaning forward in her makeshift seat, she regarded him warily, slowly catching up to all he’d said through her own indignation. “Wait a minute, hang on. So, even though they hired you to kill me, you don’t think I’m the problem?” Even as she repeated it, she could hardly believe it. He was actually willing to listen. To give her a chance to explain despite the entire damn town being against her. 

Before she could think better of it, the fae let out a single, near hysterical laugh. Somehow the fact that those idiots had managed to hire the one witcher in existence with a conscience was a more poetic sort of justice than she could ever hope to dish out. 

“Well whatd’ya know. Never thought I’d actually be asked for my side of things,” she muttered while shaking her head. “Alright, you wanna hear the truth? Here it is: anything those people told you I did? I didn’t. I’ve done nothing but try to warn them about the real threat. 

“I don’t know what it is,” she admitted, features scrunching at the memory of its grizzly appearance, “but there’s something hiding in that town, and it’s killing people. I was just passing by and stumbled right into it during a meal; covered in blood, tearing the insides out of a human corpse. Almost looked human itself. Soon as I showed up, though, it took off. I followed it and saw it disappear into town; blended right into the crowd, no one even batting an eye. The next night I saw it lure a traveler into the woods. By the time I caught up he was already dead.”

Her features scrunched into a scowl. “Don’t know why I bothered trying to warn those people. I knew they wouldn’t listen, but I tried anyway and nearly got stoned for it. Then—” her head lolled in a circle at the ridiculousness of what she was about to say, “—when I tried to stop it the next time it was gonna attack someone, I got blamed! Apparently tackling someone out of the way of a vicious monster is classified as assault now! The baby ran back to town screaming that I’d hunted him down and was gonna kill him! As if I’d waste my time.”

   Great. She had an ATTITUDE.

   Were Geralt not attempting to pacify their interaction–avoid any further antagonistic attitudes he was certain the villagers had already created–he might have had a REMARK or two of his own. As things were, however, he did naught but leer up into the branches concealing her still (aside from the SLACK position she had fallen into revealing her legs and her being not even remotely INTIMIDATED), only indication of his annoyance the roll of golden eyes. Those which, in their position, would go unnoticed and prevent affronted outbursts.

   The situation was fragile enough as it was: a witcher promised payment for EXTERMINATION and yet scarcely willing to do so even if such became a necessity. He’d try his hardest to avoid the slaughter, having little to do with code and more with his own morals most assumed he LACKED. It was dependent entirely on his own safety, should this fae find a reason to attack–he hoped not to GIVE her one.

   Practicing civility was a good start.

   As was instinct by now, he nearly fumbled into correcting her initial comment–informing her of what he really was and how seldom such was regarded as HUMAN. He stayed his own tongue, though, knew better by now than to openly admit a profession that had him killing monsters in the face of one humanity labelled as. No, he’d develop as much as an amiability as he could for now, if she proved to have a REASON behind her meddling. Patience. No different than approaching a FERAL beast and not getting bitten. A Grand Fae was just a touch more dignified. SOMETIMES.

   He blinked as if in a flinch at her venomously sarcastic tone, less to do with his being OFFENDED and more with his swelling desire to bark back. Swallowing a comment before it bled through his lips, the witcher folded his arms across his chest and further LOOSENED a posture as visual evidence of his lacking hostility. And, perhaps, his own INDIFFERENCE to any sort of threat she may present.

   His tongue could be held, yes. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t play along with this snarky game of hers in every other manner possible.

   “Don’t see you as a dangerous monster,” Geralt finally said. “Dangerous, when PROVOKED. Monster’s a bit of a stretch.” He cocked his head while staring into the thick of leaves still hiding most of her, eyes trailing the violet shine of her wings draped over the branches. A thoughtful noise rumbled in his throat. Already, she was ABRASIVE, showing signs of being wronged–no, MISUNDERSTOOD–one too many times to give it another chance.

   This could take longer than he initially hoped.

   Easing a sigh out through his nose, “I came prepared. Wouldn’t have come into the forest if I wasn’t aware of its RISKS.” A brow lifted as he cleared his throat and moved his weight between his feet. “Was actually hoping you could spare a moment to TALK. I reckon not many humans have given you the choice.”

Though she projected an indifferent air, Marianne still kept a close eye on the silhouette below, watching what she could see of him between the leaves carefully. She never truly let her guard down—although her own confidence that she could kick this human’s ass in an instant and leave at will helped her towards doing so in this case. Curiosity held her in place more than anything. Foolish as he obviously was to have followed her, she liked this guy’s mettle. His own bearing showed no fear. In fact, his posture was nearly as casual as her own. Not many would be so calm in the presence of her kind. 

An incredulous brow raised when he again spoke. Part of her suspected he was only trying to get on her good side, soften her up with false words of understanding to try and fracture her guard and make the fight easier on himself. Most of her, however, was overcome with a wave of frustration that spilled from her lips as a disgusted sound. 

“Oh, so now you wanna talk? Typical.” She threw up her arms in exasperation as much as she could while confined by tree branches. “I tried to warn you humans, but would you listen? No! You never listen before the bad shit happens. Damn right they don’t give me a choice; can’t let go of your pride for half a second to listen to a monster like me.”

If he did hail from the town in question, Marianne couldn’t believe him to be anything other than what the rest of the inhabitants had proved to be: a pompous moron. Every last one of them had turned the blame on her without hesitation. Why would this guy think any different? 

   He hadn’t made any promises.

   Though the alderman had all but begged for the creature’s HEAD upon a stake, Geralt had civilly worked his way around the request, calm and PATIENT with yet another misinterpretation of his line of expertise being closer to that of a mercenary’s. What he had heard from the frazzled man, the villagers–even a few children willing to speak to him without being startled by his appearance–all made very little sense given his prior knowledge of the species an apparentTHREAT to their town.

   It was no common case. No ghouls slinking about the nearest cemetery. No drowners having grown RESTLESS waiting for some fool to take a dip in the nearest lake. Such creatures–MONSTERS–would be taken care of without a second thought. Or any semblance of morality staying the witcher’s hand. This particular case–this contract–had him giving pause to the presumed hack-and-slash desired of him when offered coin.

   What had been described to him–that was no monster.

   But, that didn’t mean it wasn’t still his job to DEAL with it.

   Which was what found Geralt of Rivia deep in the forest that late afternoon, far enough in that it may as well have been EVENING with what gnarled branches blocked out the sun. He had been hot on a fresh trail of the village nuisance–to the sweet, flowery scent that permeated from her wings often unnoticed by those without heightened smell. Only the prior night had she been meddling once again in human affairs. And for what REASON?

   He endeavored to soon find out.

   Regardless of his impending proximity, he made no move to draw his sword. Casual, as to not PROVOKE any more than following her already would, Geralt moved through the trees, and his eyes soon were focused upward for any trace of color amongst the dull greens. Only then, a flash of PURPLE catching his focus, did he make the decision to properly announce himself.

   “Grand Fae, is it?” he called up into the leaves, coming to a halt to hold his position a respectable distance. “Don’t suppose you have a name?” Friendly, trite conversation, but the witcher practiced CAUTION in tossing any accusations within his first breaths. Swinging his weight between his feet, he briefly peered away from where he had seen movement to the surrounding gloom, back in the direction of the village. “Looks like you’ve been BUSY.”

Three lives. 

Marianne had been trying to track the thing down for barely a week, and the monster had already claimed three lives that she’d been powerless to stop. The first casualty was how she’d discovered it in the first place; it was a grizzly scene and in the dark of night she’d flown straight into it. She’d barely had time to draw her sword, but rather than attacking the one who interrupted its meal—a mangled corpse that no longer resembled the man it had once been—Marianne had watched, dumbfounded, as the creature scampered straight towards the nearby town. By the time she thought to follow, all she caught sight of was a cloaked figure disappearing into the crowd. 

In hindsight she should have just turned away. Never gotten involved. ‘Meddling in human affairs only causes trouble,’ her father always said. ‘They don’t trust us, so we don’t trust them.’

But she hadn’t. Because she was stupid? Arguably, in that moment. Because she was stubborn? More likely so. But mostly, she’d hung around the town just to make sure she wasn’t losing her mind, seeing things after traveling alone for so long. 

(Un)luckily, the second death hadn’t left any doubt.

To her credit she’d tried to warn the humans. She told everyone who came in or out of the town, warned them about the creature in the woods who disguised itself as a beautiful woman to better lure unsuspecting men away and rip out their throats. Of course they hadn’t listened, (she’d known they wouldn’t because they never did—not to her kind) and so the third time she’d tried to intervene.

And what had her concern gotten her?

Blamed. Wrongfully accused. They’d chased her away with torches and steel, hurling accusations at her back like arrows from a crossbow. There were no other monsters in the area; she had to be the one attacking and murdering people; she was the bloody blight on their peaceful, ignorant lives. 

‘And yet, I’m still here,’ Marianne thought bitterly as she fluttered through the dense forest. Her wings carried her along silently, not a leaf on the ground disturbed by her passing. For some ungodly reason she couldn’t find it in herself to leave the townspeople to be massacred one by one. She’d witnessed too much; she was involved now, whether she liked it or not. 

She wasn’t human, but that didn’t mean she was heartless. 

So long as the creature hid in town, however, there was nothing she could do. Her only option was to wait in the forest and hope that it hoped she had moved on. At any moment, she had to be ready to strike—

A slight shift in the distant forest. To most, it would be barely discernible from the rustle of wind through trees. But Marianne tensed, instincts from years of self-inflicted combat training kicking in as she strained to hear the minute sounds.

She was being followed. Carefully, and at a distance, she guessed, since a glance over her shoulder revealed nothing out of the ordinary. 

Not by the creature, thankfully—it was intelligent, but likely not adept at stealth—but regardless, it was a diversion she couldn’t afford. Internally she cursed. She’d been trying to stay near enough to the main road to watch for when the beast emerged. This needed to be handled quickly. 

Speed picking up, the Grand Fae flew straight towards the heart of the forest, hoping to scare off her pursuer by leading them deep into the thick of the wood. But the subtle presence prickling on the fringes of her awareness was not deterred. Not once did it falter or even slow. 

With a huff blown out her nose, Marianne changed tactics and flew directly up into the treetops. Her wings folded close around her form to allow her to burrow between the branches. And she waited. 

Slowly the natural hush was punctured by the sounds of approach. Brown eyes narrowed as she peered between clumps of leaves. The closer they came, the more the noises sounded like...

A voice rang out, and the tension in Marianne’s body released. 

It was only a human.

Uncurling from her defensive position, her legs instead dangled down beneath the canopy, swinging idly back and forth in a fearless announcement of her position. Leaning back into her makeshift seat of branches, her wings unfurled to drape across the wood. 

“Gutsy, for a human to follow me all the way in here,” came her easy response. Marianne wasn’t afraid of humans anymore than she was afraid of rats or squirrels; especially alone, they posed a minimal threat. If anything she was irritated that this particular one was distracting her from something much more important. The species in general had already pissed her off enough over the past few days. 

Even so, a part of her couldn’t help but be amused at the guy’s audacity, and it was that part of her that scoffed at his question. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a brain? Or sense? Ya’ know, things that would normally prevent a person from tailing a dangerous monster—” her voice took on a mocking tone as she repeated one of the villager’s earlier accusations, “—into the depths of the forest?” 

    It took hardly an instant for Thunder’s expression to change, shifting from glaring and sharp, to rather amused. A smirk curled her lips, though her eyes remained just as searing as before.

“I don’t need to TRY to scare you, fae.” She hissed as she took a step closer to the woman. “I won’t ‘explain’ myself to someone of no importance. You cannot help me, therefore do not matter.” The hand gripping the blade tightened, small sparks playing over the metal as her hand seemed to crackle with energy. It wasn’t exactly for intimidation; more like a display. Thunder wanted her to know that she was not messing with an average threat, that her little sword and grand words could so easily disarm.

    “This is your last chance to either take me to someone else, or get out of my way. I will not ask again.” Despite the playfulness that had come to Thunder’s face, her words were unmistakably serious. She was tired of going around in circles with this petty fairy.

So focused on the other woman’s suddenly amused expression was Marianne that she almost missed the flash of what she swore were sparks lapping out from the fingers that gripped her blade. 

In a typical fight, Marianne prided herself on being unflappable. It took a lot to throw her off. The second brown eyes flicked down to follow the crackling bolts of energy dancing down her sword’s edge, however, even someone as stubborn as her recognized that this was not a normal fight. 

Rather that she wasn’t facing a normal opponent. 

Unfamiliar nerves bubbled in the pit of her stomach. Her stone-faced expression would’ve given away nothing if not for the wary glint buried deep in her eyes. Despite that, though, she made no move to disengage. She had no idea what, much less who, this woman was; if she didn’t intend on taking her to the King before, she certainly wouldn’t now. 

But whoever she was, she’d proved to be hellbent on getting an audience with someone who could “help” her. 

Since Marianne wasn’t about to let her anywhere near her father, there was only one thing left to do.

Resignation crinkled her brow and grit her teeth as she leveled the woman with a stern glare. “Look, I don’t know what kind of ‘help’ you’re looking for, but I don’t need to take you anywhere to talk to someone in charge. Little do you know, you’re looking at the crown princess of the Fairy Kingdom.

“It would be wise to keep your assumptions to yourself.” Certainly the implication he was royal despite the truth behind that. It was something he truly did not see himself. It was why he insisted his servants address him as master instead of the titles that had once been used, though, some still on occasion used such. For the longer he remained a beast the more he had given up the things that meant being human. The more beast like, the humanity that he clung to faded. Not only was there the assumption of him being royal but dealing with nobles something he certainly lacked. As a child he had to an extent but such memories were faded at best he wouldn’t have been able to list a single one from so many years ago, when he had been a young child. There was a slight growl accompanied with those thoughts as he glared at the fairy.

There was clear annoyance as the fairy failed to agree to his terms. There was some consideration at the rooms the castle held which were many. Not all were the largest some were small, but he didn’t the idea of showing her a broom closet or bathroom had not crossed his mind. It was only after a few seconds of reflecting upon the rooms that might be suitable did he speak up once more. "I’ll show you the larger rooms of the castle. The ballroom, library, a couple drawing rooms. Under the agreement you do leave afterwards.”

His threat was met with nothing more than a roll of her eyes. Always so dramatic. She hadn’t even said anything offensive that time and yet he still snapped at her and looked like he was ready to tear her wings off if she flew too close. And her sister called her a grump; too bad Marianne would be far too concerned about Dawn getting hurt by his hand, or else she’d introduce them to prove she wasn’t nearly so bad. 

((OH YOU. You are always sending me these nice things and I will always always appreciate it. x3 <3

“Aye? Our farms have somethin’ like that.” He contributed. “Yea can handle a wild boar with a good spear, but when the sheep keep gettin’ in there, that’s a real problem.” It was too often a particular farmer argues with a particular shepherd in court. “If it’s not their gardens, the beats chew at the fences…” He rolled back a shoulder at some unfortunate memories. “The sheep ain’t so bad. It’s those rams tha’ get yea.”

There was a bitter feeling to it all. It was a typical problem for them. He’d watch his father handle this dispute for years. Now the task was dumped on his time. In disguise as some lesson about ‘knowing your people better’. You didn’t need to get too close to know them well, he could vouch for that.

Marianne’s brows rose as Dingwall talked. She’d never heard of the animals he described as being a nuisance to his kind, but if the humans had to resort to spears to get rid of them, they sounded like something a fairy should stay far away from. 

Naturally, that only made the adventurous princess want to hunt one down and see it for herself. 

The voice from below brought surprise the beast having not expected it. There was likely some truth behind her words he ought to have paid more attention to his surroundings it was something he was quick to ignore. Instead, his anger sprung forth once again finding fault with her instead of himself. He was quick to turn and glare down at the small fairy who, in every way, was nothing but annoyance. If she hadn’t trespassed a second time he might not have been angered enough to throw a vase at her which had resulted in her injury. He refused to take any blame for something that could have been prevented if she had simply listen to his warnings from before. For he had given her many both on her first visit here and when she had arrived for a second time.

“They maybe you should to stay out of my way!” His anger was very clear in both his expression and tone that was mixed with a grown. His teeth bared together much as an animal would do when trying to intimidate. There was no questions about how she was doing or if his servants had attended to her as he had requested of them. No, instead there was the simple anger he felt toward her and the fact she was to be here for at least a couple weeks if not longer.

The anger that tore across his features was expected at this point. Granted, it was a bit more frightening now that she was on ground level with the Beast towering over her, but her expression and posture gave nothing away. She returned his glare with equal fervor. 

“It’s a lot easier for you to step outta my way; you don’t have to sprint thirty feet to avoid stepping range!” An exaggeration maybe, but it got her point across. Considering her injuries were his fault, he should be the one going out of his way. It wasn’t like one step would kill him. 

Although, now that she thought about it, since stepping aside would be the kind thing to do, it just might. 

This wasn’t completely different from the last time he had encountered a fairy. Although, there were some differences to be sure for one he had been a boy and another he had willingly allowed the fairy into his castle. But it seemed to get her out was the same as the other showing her his castle would hopefully make her more inclined to leave. And as she spoke he merely glared up at her not even attempt to grasp her since that would certainly prove to be futile. Even should he reach her she would simply fly out of his reach.

“Last time a pest like you had been in my castle she had wanted to see the ballroom. I suppose that would be fitting enough for you.” He certainly was not about to show her his favored place to occupy there were some things he simply wished to keep hidden away from others. Particularly strangers. Yet, he made no move to leave this room instead his lips parted to speak up once more. “If I show you a few rooms will you leave my castle?” It was an agreement he would do so as long as at the end of it she would indeed leave as he wanted.

“’Pest?’ Really? C’mon, we’re both royals here, so we both know that’s not how you treat a guest in your castle.” The smirk on the fairy’s face was permanent at this point. Now that he wasn’t screaming at her, Marianne was having far too much fun getting under the Beast’s skin. It was like teasing her sister: the more frustrated Dawn got, the funnier it was. “And I’m betting we’ve both experienced the pompous noble who only gets more annoying after they’re insulted, instead of leaving,” she went on with a wink.

I’ve never done one of these before, but lets give it a shot!