#humbae

Heittäisin sua kakulla naamaan jos se onnistuis tietokoneen välityksellä :D

- With much love, evidentlyhonest <3

Mikäs ikäloppu se siel huutelee??!! 😂 Thank you, my fantastic beastie friend! 🎈

Oooh, thank you!  I’ve been so slammed with work and life that a little prompt game is exactly the thing I needed <3

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If he had been stronger, they wouldn’t be in this situation.

If he’d held to his training.

If he’d sent Ciri into the inn by herself as planned, let her warm up and rest after three straight days in the pouring, freezing rain as he watched over her from the anonymity of one of the trees surrounding the inn.  

If, if, if.  A thousand ifs would not a better outcome make.  Geralt reminded himself sharply as he pushed Roach on through the dark forest, clutching Ciri tightly to his chest.  

If he’d declined Ciri’s offer to warm himself in the bath.  

If he’d stayed back when she’d opened the window to her room for him, beckoning with pleading eyes for him to rest, to close his eyes, to ease the aching, frozen stiffness in his limbs in the still-steaming bathwater.  

If he’d been quieter entering her room when his weakness broke through his resolve. 

If he’d paid enough attention to his surrounding to be able to hide himself before the innkeeper burst in, indignation twisting her features from the assumption that her young lodger had broken the morality pact in her lodging contract.  That she’d snuck in a beau to her unwed bed.  

The fact that she surprised a weary witcher with his cub rather than a young lovers’ tryst did not ease her rage. 

The innkeeper had screamed for all to hear when she’d recognized Geralt for what he was, causing all the men in the tavern below -- farmers, bar hands, and guards alike -- to race to her aid as Geralt shoved wet limbs into dirty, torn clothes, scrambling to hide his nakedness, skin still flushed from the bath. 

Geralt leapt from the window, Ciri clinging to his back, just as the first man crashed into the room, empty bottle brandished like a sword, ready to turn his drunkenness into violence.

Upon seeing the the witcher escape with the child, a cry had quickly gone up throughout the town.  The beacon was lit and more guards were called in from the outlying fort to lead the chase.

Thankfully, Geralt had not compounded his weakness with the mistake of leaving Roach too far away.  She had been waiting for them at the edge of the forest surrounding the inn, packed and ready to flee.  

And flee they did, flying through the forest at a speed greater than sense would dictate, ducking branches and leaping patches of ice as they raced to escape the sounds of pursuit.

When even Geralt’s hearing could no longer pick up the sounds of hooves behind them, he pulled Roach back to a walk,  jumping down from the saddle to ease her burden and running a soothing, grateful hand down her heaving flank.  

They walked in silence, Ciri clutching the blanket she’d stolen from the inn about her as she curled into herself for warmth.

Geralt’s wet hair had frozen into icicles before he finally spoke, eyes staring straight ahead into the dark. 

“Forgive me, Ciri.  I know you needed a break and I took that from you.  We’ll try in the next town and this time I’ll stay away so you can rest.”  

Ciri looked down at him sharply from the saddle, her frown bringing the dark shadows under her eyes into sharp relief.  For all that youth softened her features, Geralt could see that she would one day favor Calanthe in her looks, all sharp angles and keen eyes that saw through all.

“None of that was your fault, Geralt.  You needed the rest at least as much as I.”  Ciri said softly.

Geralt met her eyes briefly before looking away again, shame tightening his chest.

“I didn’t though.  I can take much more than this before my functionality is impaired.”  Geralt held up a quelling hand when Ciri moved to protest.  “I don’t say this to slight you, but you are a human child and you have kept up with a witcher’s pace through these cold days. You need the warmth and rest in a way I do not.”  

“But -” Ciri said, brows drawing together in concern as she fought to catch Geralt’s eye.

Geralt heaved a silent sigh, wanting nothing more than to give in and accept her care.  But she was his charge and his child, it was not her burden to care for him.  If the gods allowed, they would soon reach Kaer Morhen and he could surrender himself to his brothers’ care, knowing Ciri would be safe and well while he rested.

Geralt placed a firm hand on Ciri’s ankle where it rested in the stirrup, giving it a fond squeeze.  “I’m built for this, Ciri, and I’ll get my rest as soon as we reach Kaer Morhen.”  He looked up and gave Ciri a small smile, infusing his words with as much strength and reassurance as he could.  “I promise I will be well.”

Ciri looked down at him and Geralt kept his gaze open, letting her see the truth in his words through his exhaustion.  

“Very well.”  She said, a thread of her grandmother’s imperious tone weaving into her words.  “But you’ll dry off as soon as we’re far enough away to safely build a fire and then you’ll rest extra as soon as we reach your home.”

Geralt ducked his head to hide a fond smile, knowing Ciri would take his amusement as teasing rather than fondness.  

“Yes, ma’am.”  He said, sketching his best attempt at a courtly bow.  The tinkling of the icicles in his hair diminished the effect.

Ciri feigned a scowl but her eyes were dancing with mirth as she took in the spectacle of a wet, filthy witcher attempting courtly graces in the middle of the forest.

“See that you do.”  She said, lifting her chin imperiously, her lips twitching as she unsuccessfully fought a smile, eyes forward through Roach’s pricked ears.  

As they continued on in silence, looking for a safe place to stop for the night, Geralt cradled the warm fondness he felt for Ciri in his chest, letting it warm him through. 

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sorry for the wait! working on the art!

I love this idea! Also, (in a more lighthearted manner), imagine Thor finding out he's actually Loki's uncle XD

should I make badges or something? Disturbed Whump Lovers United? 

anyway - thanks much! I’m glad both blog and writing bring you joy - that’s the goal, honestly. I don’t actually enjoy making (real) people miserable. (fictional people, on the other hand. I love making fictional people miserable.)

wait what?? is your name Lise/Elise also?