#palehunt

Such silly creatures. Of course Dream could only be aware of very little tucked away in the Burgess’ dungeon. The father had passed and now they were still in the clutches of the son. To whom he’d still never spoken a word to. 

Morpheus sat in the middle of his glass prison, feet crossed to cover himself with his shins. As privacy was not a luxury for him anymore. He could hear some sort of commotion in the distance up the stairs, sound dulled by the stone walls until it neared and echoed. His guards ran off to see what was amiss and Dream leaned forward with his hands against the glass trying to see further. His slightly emaciated form appeared a bit other worldly behind the glass he was confined to. The Endless held their breath as a figure approached. 

Intelligent eyes looked the newcomer over. Intelligent but slightly dulled from their usual sharpness from decades of exhausting monotony. The scars, the cat-like eyes, the hair. This man was a witcher. Seemed humanity had not yet rid the world of monsters if such mutants were still being created and hired out to slay them. Which brought Dream to consider why the witcher was here. 

“Have you--” There was the briefest of pauses, unused vocal chords feeling strained after over a century in silence. “-- come to kill me, Witcher?”

Prince of Hope:

IT WOULDN’T BE THE FIRST TIME a witcher had climbed the mountain, but she hadn’t seen anyone in a while, and she would be remiss not to put on a show. The stories had spread in the hundred years since coming to this place, so high above the world, half buried in snow. Heavy clouds drifted across the sky, an ice-cold breeze stirring the frost-covered leaves. Even the snow looked menacing, and who was she to refuse the night what it demanded.

And so, when he walked through her door, she had blown out every torch and candle. The castle was half in ruins already, with Jane hidden away in one of the deep levels, thick walls holding in what little heat was to be found. And she stood in the foyer, framed by shattered stained glass, silver eyes glinting in the dark.

send 🛑 to clean blood off of my muse after they protected yours.

accepting @palehunt

Lark was settled by the side of the stream as she silently rinsed the blood from her blade. She didn't understand the resentment the common folk had for her kind. She was even more confused by their hatred of Witchers.

Just then, she felt the cool dampness of fabric against her cheek. The touch was soft, and it washed away the flecks of blood. She ended the lives of the bandits vying for Geralt's head.

Emerald colored hues shifted towards the Witcher as her body tensed at the sudden realization he was cleaning the blood from her face.

Her gaze softened ever so slightly.

❝ Thank you, Geralt.❞ She replied quietly. ❝ Are you hurt? ❞

He had just returned to his human form. His clothes were torn and covered in blood. Besides to the damage he had caused to the forest and to the hunters who were chasing the supposed dragon. When Jaskier heard Geralt's voice, his face revealed genuine surprise and astonishment. The witcher was not supposed to be there. He was sure he had lost his friend with the letter left behind for him. Explaining the reasons for his hasty departure.

Tears began to fill the bard's eyes. Geralt was never supposed to know about his secret. No one else was supposed to know the truth about what he really was. Which monster slept inside Jaskier.

"I... I..." He didn't know what to say, what to explain. All the chaos around him was answer enough. The ashes that his fire left stained the poet's boots.

He looked down, trying to swallow hard. It didn't matter. Even if he gave any kind of explanation, Geralt had already discovered his secret. It was too late for exaggerated excuses or false explanations.

meme | accepting

The Cat blinked up, face scrunched up in pain. Blinking hurt. Their hair hurt. Everything hurt. Isn’t--weren’t--home? Weren’t they supposed to--no, wait, the compulsion curse was ended. Then how...? 

“ Br’k’n, ” they managed to slur out, the figure hovering over them solidifying some. The White Wolf. Why was he...? The previous sequence of events came together. The contract (a baby contract for a baby witcher, he teased). Drowners and maybe a water hag. And then--and then--