#Emiel Regis imagine

[cosmos-coma]

'Did you know..?"

A/N: A request/suggestion by the ever-lovely @beardedladyqueen! While Regis isn't really my thing personally I'm always more than happy to experiment with characters and see what makes people happy! I also realized while writing this that I... I'm just Reigs. I'm an herbalist who just loves to tell people fun facts and maybe falls a little in love when people use scientific names.

Pairing: Regis x Reader

Words: 727

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Birds tweeted eloquently from above, their feather-light songs bouncing off each other and stitching themselves into a fantastic melody. The wind rustled through the delicate grass, tickling your arms as you cut another leaf off the little plant. The large umbrella of shade trees above provided a welcome respite from the wicked heat of the day as well as a comforting sense of protection as it watched over your dutiful work.

“Alright, thank you little plant, that's all…” you said with a quick smile as you stood back up and placed your fistful of leaves into an empty jar. Quietly your feet padded around the well-worn protrusions- headstones dappling the surrounding landscape- as you look for your next plant. Your fingers brushed against a particularly moss-covered wall as you made your way around a moss-covered mausoleum when you were nearly scared out of your own skin.

“Aah!” you exclaimed, jumping about a foot in the hair, your hands immediately clutching your chest as you spotted him, “oh- ah, wow… I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t know anybody else was here..” you explained as you looked over at the figure sitting before a long-gone campfire. He had dark gray hair pushed back and away from his face, matching sideburns that emphasized already prominent cheekbones, and tired eyes that you’re sure made him look far older than he really was. But you found it all rather endearing, he looked as if he spends all night carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet still seemed to hold the sunniest disposition.

“Oh, that’s quite alright.” the older man said, standing up from his fire to turn to you. “I wasn’t aware anyone frequented this area- oh, forgive my manners” he held his hand out to you, “I’m Regis… “ he said as he shook your hand.

You introduced yourself in turn with a gentle smile and a shake of his hand. “It's been a while since I've foraged here if I’m being honest, so I doubt I could lay much claim to it.” 

“Hmm, is that lily of the valley and… do I smell lemon balm?” The vampire inquired with curious excitement as your hands came close, now peeking over to look toward your herb-laden basket.

You chuckled with surprise and showed him your collection, “What an amazing nose you have..! Yes, I just gathered some before I came around the corner.”

Regis's lips pulled into a sheepish smile, knowing he was perhaps being a little too telling with his vampiric talents than he would have liked, “yes, well I-I think the scent must still be on your hands,” he said, straightening his posture a bit more, “I actually dabble a bit into herbalism as well… did you know that lemon balm can be used for anxiety, appetite, and even-” 

“-Insomnia,” you two said in unison, causing you both to pause before easy laughter filled the otherwise lonesome cemetery.

You grinned brightly as you shook your head, “Yes, actually that's what I’m gathering it for… I’ve been having absolutely dreadful sleep lately and was hoping Miss Melissa officinalis could help me out a bit with that”, you said with the slightest tinge of blush- no one ever wanted to talk plants with you before. Usually, people just listened for a bit to amuse you, but rarely did they ever want to bring it up again. Yet here this older man stood before you with an almost giddy smile that was barely hidden behind a veil of well-mannered resignation. 

Regis on the other hand thought his immortal heart might just burst out of his chest and onto the floor, then and there. A fellow herbal enthusiast and you can drop a scientific name into conversation like it's nothing? He couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled so broadly at something so seemingly small. 

“I- please, forgive me if this is too forward,” Regis started, nearly tripping over his seat as he stepped forward. He knew it was terribly unlike himself to be so clumsy, but for some reason, he just couldn’t seem to help it. “but would you mind if I accompanied you while you continue to forage?”

Your shy but determined smile captivated him like the first glimpse of morning light as you held your basket out to the love-struck vampire.

 “Only if you promise to carry the basket.”

__________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @madamemelancholysstuff @dark-academia-slut

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[onlymagpie]

In which Milva asks Regis for a trim, and she finds out about the vampire-mirror phenomenon

[sushiesproductions]

in light of recent news

[hanzajesthanza]

anyways wish regis was there when geralt screamed for the entire druidic forest to hear that he was his przyjaciel.

Sylwia of Warsaw: 'Przyjaźń is an intimate relationship even though platonic, so boasting of it to strangers is like boasting of sex.'

in context of how regis was like 'eheheh? 🥺 friend?? [shyly tucks hair behind ear]' when geralt even just called him druh in private, in the darkness... under the earth, amidst rock and stone where not another soul, where absolutely no one else could hear them.

- Możesz liczyć - odrzeka poważnie Geralt. - Nie zostawię cię w potrzebie. Druhu. Wampir uśmiechnął się, a ponieważ byli sami, pełnym garniturem kłów. - Druhu?

that geralt yelled aloud in the daylight not just that they are friends, but close friends, to the flaminika, actually to anyone within earshot...

- Jestem Geralt… Wiedźmin… Przyjaciel Emiela Regisa… - Powtórz, bo nie dosłyszałam. - Geraaaaalt! Przyjaciel wampiiiiira!

i mean, regis would intuit, he would know that geralt was only emphasizing their friendship (and kind of lying because they haven’t known each other long at all) to save their skins from the ent, but... at the same time. logic doesn't overwrite fact. and the fact was geralt screaming under torture that they are very close

[teatitty]

For anyone curious, this is what Dandelion's writing has to say about Regis in the Blood and Wine expansion of TW3:

Firstly, when penning the quest that has Geralt running into Regis again for the first time in years, Dandy writes this

Here I must explain that, years ago, Regis had joined Geralt's band of fellow travelers (of which I was a proud part) and set off with us in search of Ciri. Together we lived through many fascinating adventures and Regis proved himself a loyal friend, the kind you can trust with your life.

And then, on a bookshelf inside the crypt where you run into Regis, you can find a book titled "Biography of the Vampire Regis, From the Quill of Dandelion." Of course, like all large tomes in games, you don't get to read the whole thing but you do get a nice few passages of Dandelion talking about who Regis was and the friendship they shared

One of the most extraordinary individuals I have encountered during my numerous adventures at Geralt's side was the vampire known as Regis. To be precise, he was known as Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy. By his own reckoning, he was 428 years old and was the descendant of unfortunate beings trapped in our world during the Conjunction of Spheres. You are surely thinking, Dear Reader, about katakans, alps and other such monsters and are pondering how it was that the witcher – who, it must be admitted, is a slayer of monsters – came to keep such company. I must here explain that Regis was a higher vampire, a creature which physically does not differ all that much from a man. Higher vampires are also much more powerful than their wild confreres, and their regenerative abilities significantly outpace those of anything else you have encountered or can even imagine. But it is not because of his outer appearances or inner strengths that Regis became our dear companion. True, he could be pretentious and rather pompous in his frequent length perorations, but one would be hard-pressed to find in him the haughtiness usually present in higher beings. Regis valued human life dearly and refused to kill unless forced to do so. As he once confessed, higher vampires do not in fact need to drink blood at all in order to survive. They treat it somewhat as we treat alcohol. A rough grasp of this dynamic might be given to you by the fact that, when we met him, Regis had been abstinent for years. He never revealed to us why he decided to join our search for Ciri. He had never met her before. Nor did he live to see her. He died at Stygg Castle, during the battle against the mad mage Vilgefortz, who was responsible for the whole affair. He died for a cause which he surely did not fully understand, but he did it to defend those he held dear and simply because it was the right thing to do. I shall always remember him as a rural surgeon reeking of herbs – that is how he came to us during our first encounter at the Fen Carn necropolis, when he treated me and my companions to a fantastic brew me made from mandrake root. Wherever you are, my friend, bottoms up!

[astaldis]

Issue no 32 - Kneeling: Prison Blues

@whumpers-monthly

Ups, whumpee has to do an awful lot of kneeling in this fic 🙈 (and these here are only some examples).

Fandom: The Witcher (TV)

Whumpee: Cahir

Whumper: Emhyr var Emreis

Caretaker: Assire var Anahid, Jaskier

Characters: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, Geralt of Rivia, Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, Jaskier, Emhyr var Emreis, Assire var Anahid, Merlin (the cat), Menno Coehoorn, Vilgefortz of Roggeveen

Relationships: Cahir/Emhyr

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: GDoV, Rape/Non-Con, torture, Dead Dove Do Not Eat!

Words: 32,676; Chapters: 14/14

Written pre-season 3, compliant with seasons 1+2

Excerpt from Chapter 3: ... and Punishment

"Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach. My once most trusted commander. What a pity it has come to that." Emhyr's voice is almost gentle as he looks at the badly bruised prisoner who is standing, back to the far wall and barefoot, in the dimly-lit dungeon cell. They have, of course, not only stripped him of his weapons, but also of his armour and most of his clothes, leaving the prisoner in only a thin, black shirt and pants which are, by now, bloodstained and dirty.

"On your knees, traitor!" he then barks, the sudden shift in tone lending even more bite to the Emperor's harsh command. 

Having expected the guards to come back for another round of beating when the door creaked open, not Emhyr var Emreis himself to enter his cell, Cahir unelegantly falls to his knees in front of his Emperor after the initial shock of surprise. This then is surely it, the final verdict he has been waiting for for nearly three weeks of imprisonment. And daily physical abuse. As the Emperor rules, no, has to rule Nilfgaard with an iron fist, most likely the end. Another execution, and what are the odds of escaping a second time?

Excerpt from Chapter 4: A Weird Visit

"You look - dreadful. But alive, as I promised," the Emperor drawls. Cahir's eyes fly open in a strange mixture of shock and hope. He has no idea at all anymore of what to expect of the White Flame. More punishment and torture? Or was that it and he will be pardoned, released on probation, perhaps? Admittedly, this sounds too good to be true, so it probably will not happen any time soon. But while there is life, there is hope, isn't that how the saying goes? And he is alive after all, like Emhyr promised.

The Emperor keeps eying him up with an inscrutable, dark gaze as Cahir kneels down before him. He must look dreadful, indeed. And smell awful, too, of dried blood and sweat and unwash. At least he did not piss or shit his pants during the torture, nor afterwards. He would have died of shame if he had.

"I know this is going to be a rather, let's say, one-sided conversation, obviously. But don't worry, you are not expected to say anything," the Emperor says eventually in an almost friendly, conversational tone of voice. "Just the occasional nod or shaking of the head will suffice. Actually, a nice change from those tedious conversations at court. Perhaps I should have a few more tongues removed just to stop the constant complaints and ridiculous requests those courtiers bore me with each and every day." He pauses as if seriously contemplating the idea. Maybe he is.

"You probably think you have it bad at the moment," he then goes on. "I admit, your circumstances are not exactly - delightful." He looks around the prison cell meaningfully. "Surely a far cry from what you were used to here in the palace. But," he starts pacing up and down in front of the still kneeling prisoner, "try being an Emperor. Imagine the permanent fear of one of your most trusted advisors turning against you, betraying you for the sake of their own agenda. The possibility of one of your allegedly most loyal nobel families secretly plotting your demise to replace you. The perhaps not utterly unfounded suspicion that your most devoted mistress is spying on you, selling your secrets to the enemy or trying to murder you in your sleep. The not totally far-fetched fear that your most talented mage might decide to curse you into an abominable monster. And, let's not forget," his voice lowers into a dangerous growl, "imagine your favourite commander lying to you - well, you'd know this one, Cahir, wouldn't you?"

Cahir stares up at Emhyr in confusion. Is the Emperor really implying that he has it worse than his prisoner?

Excerpt from Chapter 7: A Welcome Surprise

As it soon turns out, the water is not intended for the dungeon floor, nor its walls, but for the prisoner. The guards grab Cahir by his shoulders and make him kneel in front of one of the buckets. His heart starts to race wildly. They are not going to water torture him, are they? Before he can think of any reason at all why they would do that, the guards dunk his head into the bucket. Cahir struggles, panicking. To his very surprise, though, the guards let go of him almost immediately. He comes up and gulps in as much air as he can, fully expecting his head to be forced under water again right away. However, it does not happen. Confused, he looks up, only now realising that the water dripping from his face and hair onto his soaked shirt is pleasantly warm. Curious. 

When the guards do not repeat the treatment, but step away from the bucket instead, making room for the elderly servant, it finally dawns on Cahir that this is not meant as torture. A correct conjecture as the woman produces a bar of hard soap from the basket and starts rubbing it into the prisoner's dripping wet hair with deft fingers. It is not exactly the fragrance of violets and roses that starts filling the dungeon air but something more basic with a tinge of ammonia and ash. However, it smells, and feels, nicely clean.

Excerpt from Chapter 8: Ruin

"You look much better. The haircut is definitely an improvement. As well as the fresh clothes. Black does suit you," the Emperor says appraisingly when he comes to visit the prisoner late in the evening that day. Thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being clean for once, Cahir was, for the lack of a blanket, already half asleep in his new shirt and pants when the door creaked open, and thought he was dreaming at first. But he was not. The Emperor is here in his cell. And he is, once again, kneeling before him with trepidation, not having a clue about what to expect of the visit. More punishment? Absolution and release? Just another, rather one-sided, chat? Anything is possible. Which is quite unsettling. 

"Let's see if the food and exercise are doing you good, too," Emhyr continues. "Take off your shirt."

Cahir does as he is ordered. 

"Hmm, far better, indeed. Lean, but wiry." Emhyr reaches down to the kneeling prisoner and clutches Cahir's upper arm with one hand, feeling his biceps. "And muscular enough. The push-ups are paying off, I guess." Then, this time with the slightly callused inside of his thumb, he traces down one of the fresh scars that runs from Cahir's shoulder to his wrist, giving the young knight goosebumps all over. "Healed nicely, too. Not painful anymore, I hope?" Cahir shakes his head, surprised at the question. Is the White Flame concerned about him after all?

"Good. I trust you still remember the lesson, though?" 

The lesson. Cahir swallows visibly at the memory. Of course, he remembers, how could he forget? Bowing his head and looking down at the stone floor, he nods.

"What are you waiting for then?" The Emperor suddenly barks at him. "Strip!"

Excerpt from Chapter 14: ... and out of the woods?

"Wait, Geralt. There is no need, I assure you. This will only get embarrassing - for everybody."

"I need to see for myself before I believe it," the Witcher retorts, shrugs off the vampire's hand and sets off further into the woods careful not to make any noise. Which he, being an experienced monster hunter, accomplishes with ease. As does - being an experienced hunter of all kinds of non-monstery creatures - Milva the archer, who follows the Witcher's lead, whether mostly out of curiosity or concern, she does not know for sure herself. Naturally, as there should always be a voice of reason and logic, Regis is right behind her. Being a more than four hundred-year-old higher vampire, he is making no sound at all.

What the trio finds in the dim light of dusk is this: 

The Nilfgaardian warrior who utterly fearlessly led an entire army into battle just a few days ago - admittedly, it was a very small and insignificant battle no history book would ever mention and only a ragtag guerrilla army but nevertheless, they won against the superior Imperial forces, even if the victory was achieved only, but permissibly, by quickly retreating from the battleground - this fierce warrior is kneeling on the forest floor sobbing his heart out onto the bard's shoulder while the bard, who is likewise kneeling, is holding the crying knight in a tight embrace, murmuring words of comfort in his ear and patting him soothingly on the back. A scene as heartbreakingly cute as disturbing. And a situation that ought not be disturbed. Under no circumstances and definitely not by a grumpy old, paranoid Witcher who expected to find something totally different. Fortunately, said Witcher has sense enough to sense this all on his own and without Regis admonishing him or Milva poking him in the ribs. Which they do anyways. Before they leave again as quickly and quietly as they have come.

Only a faint scent of woodworm, basil, sage, aniseed and cinnamon keeps lingering between the silent trees. Then it, too, vanishes without a trace.

[potatoscomfortthings]

Emiel Regis (The Witcher) caregiver moodboard and headcanons

(I didn’t add an image of Regis to the moodboard so you can imagine whichever version of him you prefer <3)

Caregiver. Loves being called papa and calling his little(s) “little bat” <3

Tea, tea, tea!

Reads books to his little(s) all the time! Nonfiction books are his favorite. He can make even the dryest of books interesting.

Takes his little(s) to pick herbs/berries and teaches them to identify the different plants.

He’s the best at treating scrapes and cuts and making them all better.

Bat form snuggles <3

[dykedteach]

imagine getting banned from social media for saying what geralt did to emiel regis rohellec terzieff-godefroy

[boundlss]

@revenanthearts ( emiel regis rohellec terzieff-godefroy ) / continued from here.

Cahir is glad of their circumstances, too. That he'd known from the beginning that Regis was a vampire hadn't prevented him from being afraid, but in retrospect, having not known would have soured his feelings towards Regis before he could have learned to appreciate Regis for his separate traits.

"I don't blame you for your deception when it comes to that," Cahir says honestly, and earnestly. "I am also glad you never had the opportunity to lie to me, because I would have reacted badly to it. But having the understanding I do now, I would venture to say that your secrets have very little bearing on my current feelings."

As with most things Cahir says, there is very little exagerration in the expression of his sentiment. As far as encounters with monsters, Cahir was one of the lucky few to have had absolutely none firsthand, relying on legend and myth to fill his own blanks. As such, he imagines himself to be in a fine position to meet Regis where he is, regarding his vampiric nature.

It's a pleasant first experience with a Vampire. Cahir at least knows enough to understand his fortune in meeting Regis, both for that and for his own selfish enjoyment of his company.

"For my own benefit, I admit that I was happy not to be the only person broadly distrusted by our company," he admits, having the decency to sound shameful. "Even though I feared you for a short time as well, I thought it less lonely to be the only one. Although you were always closer to his good graces than I will ever manage to be."

He finds it ironic now that the two of them should have these talks. Two people that others might have reduced to monsters, understanding eachother clearly in a place where nothing else can be understood. The third remains monopolized in the comfort of Toussaint's second-warmest bed, though Cahir does not regret his absence from these nights of solace.

"... My past feelings don't have any bearing on the way things are now. I've said that I don't like to decieve, but I have never felt shame in helping you uphold your cover before the unaware people of Toussaint, and I don't intend to start."

[witcherrarepaircommentexchange]

ship:

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy

fic:

Weather the Storm by SebDoesWords

Geralt sighed and felt his body relax, all the tension flowing from him. He felt he could fall asleep right then and there, but first it was the prickling warmth seeping back into his limbs that kept him awake, and then the sounds that surrounded them. Geralt couldn’t say he was especially surprised, given that they were in a brothel, but the coupling in the other rooms actually managed to be audible to his enhanced senses over the storm outside. And with how vocal some of the voices were, Geralt couldn’t help but imagine some things.

[cosmos-coma]

Blood and Vengeance - Part 1

A/N: I've had this story saved in my drafts for a while now and i think about it every dang day so here it is! Finally!

Pairing: Dettlaff x Reader

Words: 1332

Summary: You answer an ad for a housekeeping job at the estate of the two new mysterious visitors in town, despite strange rumors circulating around town you know the pay makes it well worth it. However, when you arrive it seems to be part housekeeping and part "nanny" as you're tasked with getting the dark-brooding Dettlaff used to humans. surely this will go smoothly, right?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7| Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 (Final)

__________________

Your town had always been a sleepy place as far as you could remember. Small markets, rarely any visitors, and relatively little commotion as far as you were concerned; but maybe that's what attracted the two mysterious men to your tiny town. 

Word of their arrival spread quickly and quietly through the streets of the town, warping the way all rumors do. Some said they just seemed like two standard rich men. One was pleasant, always carrying a bag of herbs and odd-smelling concoctions, and the other didn’t seem to like anyone and was strangely intense for such a quiet man. However, in no time those rumors faded out, instead replaced by speculation of criminal pasts, and fake identities- some even went so far as to swear they had seen them turn into bats when the veil of night fell.

Either direction the rumors went you found yourself growing more and more curious the longer you stared at the posted ad on the noticeboard. 

It said they were looking for a few workers; mostly gardeners and people to help renovate- neither of which you knew how to do well enough, but you did think you could settle into the housekeeping role well. It looked like it paid nicely and you’d get to have a room at the manor as well. It was bound to be long hours and being on call at a moment's notice, but soon enough you should be able to save up a small fortune and live your life quietly on your own time. 

You nodded, determined in your decision, and went straight there to apply, despite the way your nerves grew with each step. 

As you walked up to the estate It’s multiple levels loomed over you and blocked out the low-hanging sun. You pushed open the iron-wrought gate which creaked with age as you closed it behind you and walked through the freshly tilled gardens. The home had been worn by decades of neglect and paint flecked off in patches here and there revealing an older color underneath. 

“I guess they must’ve already found gardeners” you commented as you made your way up to the door. A deep breath steadied your nerves long enough to lift the heavy door knocker, clacking it against the old wood twice. 

It was quiet for a short while before the sound of footsteps suddenly came from behind the door as it was pulled open with ease by an older-looking gentleman. His hair and sideburns were a sooty gray and his eyes held bags beneath them that betrayed the exhaustion his pleasant smile tried to hide. “Ah, you must be here to apply for one of the posted jobs?” He held his hand out for you to shake. “Emiel Regis, it’s a pleasure.” 

You put on your best smile, shaking his hand as you introduced yourself, “Yes, um- I was hoping the housekeeping position was still open..?”

An amusing thought seemed to cross him as he glanced you over once more, barely noticeable if you weren’t watching. He nodded and ushered you in right away, into the darkened entryway. “Of course. Come in, come in- I might as well show you around if you're going to be working here,” he said, leading the way.

Two large staircases curved their way out and upward and met at the next level. Rugs lined each step and the hallway before you, worn to a small degree but mostly dulled with dirt, dust, and age. The wood lining the walls could use a layer of polish, but you were surprised to see what decent shape the interior was in. 

Mostly the interior just showed aging, from the dimmed dirty windows to the cobwebs in the corners. “You’ll have to pardon the mess while we get everything put back to its former glory. The house Is big, but please don’t let it become daunting to you. I-” He paused his steps and his words to listen to the quiet house for a moment before he continued. 

“Well if I have to be frank. This job is in part a regular housekeeping job, I assure you. But it is also because I would like to have someone to keep an eye on my dear friend Dettlaff.” He said, glancing back at you before he continued giving you a tour of the house. “I-I promise it’s nothing strange. Ah- but that probably only made it sound stranger, didn’t it?” 

“Very much so..” you replied, laughing lightly, but still holding your satchel close as you went from room to room. A few of the rooms were more finished than the others- the bedrooms and the kitchens for example- others seemed to be more of storage for extra materials. 

“I apologize… I had no intention of making you feel uncomfortable. It’s just- Well, how do I put this… Dettlaff is not good with people. At all.” Regis huffed in mild annoyance. Because Dettlaff was such a good friend, Regis could only acknowledge his shortcomings for what they were. Dangerous liabilities. “He feels far too much, but I think small introductions could be good for him; someone who can pepper him with how people work socially” He further explained, waving a hand of his with nails that were just a bit longer than normal. 

This was all starting to get a little bit weird… but you still couldn't deny this kind of pay, plus room and board. “So you want me to be a sort of… glorified nanny for your friend?” You asked, increasing your pace to step side by side with the older man.

“Well, when you put it like that…” he began to mumble, but you quickly interjected. 

“I’ll do it. When can I start?” you stepped in front of him and held out your hand to shake on it, causing the older man to stop short and raise his eyebrows in surprise.

“My, my… you certainly seem like a rather tenacious creature, don’t you? Though I think that could prove you well in dealing with him…” He smiled that friendly smile again and shook your hand. “If you’re up to it you can start tomorrow. I’ll create a list of daily duties and It’ll be waiting for you in the room we’ve set aside for you. We can discuss your pay after your first day, does that arrangement work for you miss Y/n?” He asked, looking at you with nothing but an earnest expression and kind eyes. 

You smiled as you nodded, hefting your bag further up on your shoulder as you were led back to the front door and seen off by the older man. 

You were quiet on your walk home, quickly scampering through the streets before the sun fully fell and the more malicious folks came out for the evening. As soon as the door clicked closed you shouted in excitement and did a little dance. You weren’t even a hundred percent sure where all the confidence had come from, but you didn’t care! A huge grin spread across your face as you breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Oh, shit, I’ve got to get packing…” you thought aloud as you sprung yourself up and began pulling things together. For once you were thankful that you had only been renting in this little town. It felt like ages ago that you had walked away from your childhood home to try and make a life for yourself and for once it seemed to actually be working out. You didn’t have too much to pack up, mostly books, clothes, and a few little knickknacks you had picked up over the years, but each one held a small special place with you. 

A small smile painted on your expression as you put the last of your things away in a bag and gave the old place one last look around. 

Tomorrow would change the trajectory of the rest of your life for you, you could feel it. And you had never been more ready. 

_______________

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[ladysunbite]

headcanons on unseen elders? is there anyone in them who is the most important of all and does orianna's position as the next in line unseen elder make her someone special in the eyes of the other higher vampires?

[ part II, on Orianna ]

The Unseen Elder of Toussaint does not necessarily hold the grandest position of all. Let's remember how, according to Emiel Regis, it's enough to be out of the confinement of a territory to escape even the most terrible and most severe punishment of being an anathema. It makes one suspect that the law structure, amidst all the tribes, while being absolute, grand and unforgiving, has...let's say some mischievous loopholes and rather twisted logic. Territory and land is important to both highly cultural and beastly communities alike, but what are those to creatures who has a totally different view of time?

Besides, an Unseen, bearing many divine attributes of power, has a very down to earth function - being a local judge. Therefore, I daresay each vampiric tribe has more loyalty and deference to their own Elder, if not for the purpose of a mystical esteem, then for a very practical reason of him / her being able to help them or punish them according to the need of an hour. Whether an Unseen of one tribe can judge a higher or lower vampire of another one, I imagine not ( unless it's a kind of an international vampiric crime, like violating the Gates, the site which all tribes hold in reverence ), for the same reason of territory being an important point. It's fair to notice that it is said that the majority of Gharasham Tribe assimilated amidst Nordlings, and spread across the continent, unlike the other two tribes. Can the Unseen of Toussaint, let's say, set a price upon an anathema's head who quietly remains in Novigrad and never crosses into the lands of Toussaint ever again? That remains unclear. However, the particular Toussaint Unseen is a guardian of the Gates. Again, according to Emiel Regis vampires has no gods, but I presume they have some sacred things in their view of the world. Hen Gaidh being one of such. Firstly, because the modern territory of Toussaint was the place where the tribes landed after the Conjunction of the Spheres, and historically, became the upkeep of all the previous cultural knowledge. Secondly, because, theoretically the Gates can open again and then the social role of that Unseen would be of high importance, indeed.

Art Credit: Santiago Caruso

[crowleyellestair]

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Thief

Reading

The Blame

Blurbs pt.1

Blurbs pt.2

Rain

Lambert

The point

Gwent

Gwent Pt.2

Dream

Jaskier

Hide ‘n Seek

Imagine Being Jaskier’s Destiny

Desperate Times Call For Stealing Outfits

Study of Expression- VDay Special

El Tango De Roxanne

Knuckles, Meet Teeth

Just Dealing

Honor

For A Swim

More Than OK

Fools In Love

Imagine Comfort

Lie To Me

Find Part 1 on my page

Find Part 2 on my page

Part 3

Geralt

Rampage

Rage

Sun and Moon

Sleep

Another Morning

Drunken Confessions

Home

Scent

Putting The Plan Into Action

Blurb 1

Geralt’s Problem Pt.2

Regis

Spice

Bonds Part 1

Payment

[hanzajesthanza]

"is it a bad time for advice?" "as a matter of fact, it is. it'd be nice if you'd leave me to my thoughts. and apologize for disturbing me." "i apologize. the private conversations with the self are, after all, invaluable and sacred. but i would still like to present you with some humble advice: you're quickly approaching hypothermia."

angoulême model by @witcherscreenshotsdump 💖

[spellwing777]

[geraltgwynbleidd]

Today's not your day, Dettlaff 🐺