𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 😍 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐈𝐑𝐀 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄.

@leikinon​ said: 😍 I GUESS 

𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐎 !  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀 𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. 

@leikinon​​ said: ❝ why can’t we just go home & forget this dreadful night ? ❞

A deep sigh passed the woman’s lips at the other’s words, finger and thumb rub at tired eyes. She knew that her words were meant out of concern, but Moira also knew that since Breainne hadn’t known her for a while she couldn’t possibly know that this was normal for her. 

a wild bre !! || @leikinon​ : Her hands twisted the fabric of her dress, head lowered as if she was in prayer, and perhaps she was, she was waiting for this man she cared for. The witcher that seemed to have wormed into her heart without her permission, yet she welcomed the warmth it provided. The instant she had seen him walk up to her door, she launched herself into his arms and embraced him as tightly as she could, "You came back to me...or are you hurt? Do you need me to aid you?"

She lingered in his thoughts. Since the day he’d met her. Her words and her scent. Nothing could seem to SHAKE her from him. And perhaps, he had wanted it that way. Adhémar peered out at large estate that sat beautifully in the safety of the woods. The Witcher has only found himself at her doorsteps a few times now. Sometimes bleeding, sometimes not. Merely to SEE her again.

His more meaningless visits always seemed to jar her. He’d noticed. That quizzical stare when she’d question his need for AID and he had not needed it. As though Bre had not believed him.

He smiled softly when the door to her home flew open upon his dismount. Adhémar caught her in his arms as she threw herself into his embrace. Silently he held her against him. Gently nosing against the top of her head. Breathing in deeply to engulf his senses with her perfume like essence. It brought him a newfound COMFORT. Filled him with something he was not yet familiar with. But he knows he COULD easily accept if she’d allow it herself. Love? Something Witcher’s weren’t ever suppose to succumb to.

So blissful were moments such as these. Yet, so few they were. Rarely did his business leave him near by. The Witcher dared not look away from Breainne himself as her hands traced up his bare form. Pools of red seeping into deep purple. If his heart could beat faster, it might would have, but nevertheless she always did make his heart DANCE. In ways he did not think it still could. And if she paid close enough attention, she’d feel it in her fingertips as they teased their way across his chest. Faintly against his rib cage.

Her touch could leave him BREATHLESS. Often times, it did. Adhémar bit down on a lower lip as his gaze flickered over the healer’s features. Free hand idly brushing down the curves of her form. Only being pulled from his thoughts as she spoke. Elder Speech. He learned simple words by listening to her alone. Being fluent in Common and Niflgaardian aided in that. Kiss me. He understands THAT.