#lostlands.

Normally, when Prospero saw someone that looked like they didn't want to be spoken to, he steered clear. However, it looked like this one in particular looked awfully stressed. It wasn't a normal occurrence for him to offer up his flask to anyone so it was clear that the other man looked very distressed. It was a curse of Prospero's to try and help when he didn't really need to. He often thought about how he didn't care about much else other than the people he had come to care for, but that simply wasn't true. He looked out for anyone that he felt needed it because he knew he couldn't save everyone. If he tried, it would mean something though, wouldn't it? That was why he held the flask out towards the other man.

location: lostlands note: ay fellas is it gay to help your friend if he has 1 arm

To say the least, Njal had not thought that any of them would make it back. After what they had endured, he was entirely convinced that they would all perish on the battlefield. It was what he had always expected for himself. It was what he had hoped for really. If he was to go, he would have at least hoped he would have went down fighting. Thankfully, he lived to fight another day. He was in better condition than Torsten was, that was for sure. His natural instinct was to let his dear friend acclimate on his own. If he were to check on the other witcher now, he felt like it would seem like he thought the other was fragile and that just wasn't the case. However, he had stayed away from some time now. It felt only fitting that he visit now in hopes that Torsten was maybe in better spirits. Not that he would know if the man was in bad spirits in the slightest.

location: lostlands note: obligatory death by snu snu tag

To be honest, he hadn't known what to expect of the missing women. They had been gone for such a long time that he was convinced they were never going to come back. If they did, it was going to be a damn miracle. Njal guessed he should have started believing in miracles. When he had awoken from his own expedition, he had been surprised to know that all of the women that had been taken were back with them in the Lostlands. There was one he hoped to see much more than the other. As much as he didn't know if they would classify each other as friend's, he had been interested in knowing if Jarl Freydis had made it back safely. That had been his first stop, even before seeing Torsten. Maybe that was sign enough that there was a semblance of care there. Not that Njal would ever admit to as much aloud.

Tired was the word he would use for how he felt right now after everything that had transpired. Prospero had never really been through a fight quite like that one before, but he had to say that facing down a dragon and speaking with some deities was not on his bucket list. Maybe he should have put those things on there though. That seemed to be the least of their concerns now. He should've been with Alrik and Alessia right now. Instead, he was here looking at this barrier. This wasn't magic he had ever seen himself, but he'd read about it. Seven layers of elemental and spiritual magic formed this prismatic barrier surrounding Iskaldrik. It would take precise movements to even make a dent in it. And he may have been old, but this was not something that one person could do alone.

There were a lot of plans that Prospero had once he got to Lysara, but there were also ones that he had before he got there as well. One of the ones that landed in the former category was his one promise to Luna that he would be sure to show her around. If there was one thing people had begun to learn about him now, it was that he always kept his word. His word was something that could be trusted most of the time if he cared about what he was talking about. Either way, there was a problem prohibiting him from keeping his word with Luna now and that was this damn barrier. It was causing far more problems than it was worth and he only hoped that it went down sooner rather than later.

Growing up, it was clear to him that Aytaç was really better than him in every way. There had been a time when he was younger that he had always been upset about it. Afshin had tried every day to be better than he was, but the truth was that he simply wasn't. He didn't wield a sword like his father or sister or Ormir. He wasn't as capable as them no matter how hard he tried. It was embarrassing to think about, but he had charisma. There was at least that. He had the confidence of someone that could strike another down if needed. When he was younger, that felt like all he needed. Now he knew that wasn't the case. That was why he had Eldar. The other half of his soul was more capable on a battlefield than he could ever be and that made things easier. Iskarans wouldn't trust a changeling as their king though. They wouldn't trust someone that wouldn't cut their own damn eye out and slay a dragon. He sighed from his position with his head rested upon his sister's shoulder.