#mindfade

"well," celine brushes off the chastisement easily, shrugging before returning to the assortment of herbs laid out before her. they're pitiful things, long since past the height of their potency, but the vendors in novigard's market had apparently grown wary of even selling anything that could be deemed adjacent to witchcraft. still, a weak poultice for margarita is better than none at all. it will have to do. "highly improbable, then. rescuing rita should've been highly improbable, yet you and the witcher managed it."

though her path has never crossed with yennefer of vengerberg before yesterday, celine understands one thing by her reputation alone: her will is neither to be doubted nor underestimated. what a pity, she thinks, that they should have to meet in so grim a city as novigrad and in so strange a place as this chameleon.

her expression softening in the candlelight, celine offers a small, albeit tired, smile. "margarita is a very dear friend to me, as well. she would've been lost to deireadh were it not for your and geralt's intervention. i doubt the rest of us gathered here will be quick to offer their thanks, but know that you have mine, yennefer."