#yenofberg

@yenofberg

'Tis that pleasantry of societal politeness to keep quiet amidst this private, secular Night that Roland keeps his surprised bark of laughter smothered onto the smallish, choked guffaw in retrospect, and he comes up to her in his naked feet and clothed in fine, silken threads, borne of pearlish white and long, comfortable trousers of brilliant, emerald green, to stand next to Yen beside the turbulent, vibrant sounds of this stormy'd window.

"What are you staring at me like that for?" blinked emerald-green eyes, a slight smile on her face. Ciri couldn't tell if she was in trouble or not. But then again, it wouldn't be anything new for her.

"Your competence was never in question." He assured, taking a small step back, a physical manifestation of letting Yennefer take over the situation fully, as she clearly desired. "I offered help for the sake of our friendship and not a doubt of your skill." He smiled in his usual close-lipped manner.

"And it is that same friendship that compels me to point out... The beast is beginning to wane. If we wish to harvest the ingredient from the live creature, as is the stipulation of the recipe, we should hurry and do so." He added, pointing at their catch, which despite its wounds, magic and vampire claws induced, was trying to crawl away.

"a million shards of glass that haunt me from my past."

is he valdo or pawel? are they one in the same, or are they distinctly different? every time he thinks of his childhood, of the old knight, his whole body tenses -- -- but if he didn't go through all of that, would he be who he is now?

it's clear valdo is drunk at the table, glancing at the purple eyed mage across from him. she is different from sabrina. he leans into his hand, smiling. "i've spent a lifetime running." he chuckles.