#ive seen in a long strip comic for a while especially with how they play with the format

[bmpmp3]

ive mentioned before my like. fascination and incomprehensible attachment to mysterious ambiguously brown man characters in schlocky fantasy romance media marketed towards women and a lot of it is from like, a like. nearly anthropological standpoint as someone heavily interested in orientalism in narrative media from a visual culture and art historical point of view and a part of it is also from being mixed race and ambiguous IRL LOL BUT there is one other angle i havent really touched on thats on my mind a lot. you know that bit we all go through where someone reads something like mediocre and it sticks in their mind more than something well written? the "I COULD FIX THISSSS" curse..... im like this with ambiguously brown characters. holds loosely (LOOSELY) south asian coded love interest from some romance comic #8997485344534984875943 tenderly in my hands..... my brother i know you weren't written with this depth but i know the truth. i know about your complexities as you navigate this fantasy europe as a racialized man. i know your truth

[ladylilibet]

Tainted Love|Chapter 5.

I/II/III/IV/V Tainted Love – How can you tell a lady no? The White Wolf claimed he needed no one, but his collection of misfits started with Lady Helena of Oxenfurt… and ended with her, too.

                    Chapter V: 𝖂𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖙 𝕶𝖆𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖍𝖊𝖓, part I

Kaer Morhen.

Helena had read about the fortress before. The School of the Wolf, where Witchers were created and taught long ago. If she closed her eyes, she could picture the compound in all its grandeur during its formative years. Now, however, only sat the shell of something once great.

Rusted armor littered its vacant halls. Shattered windows poorly patched up allowed a stiff breeze, but not enough as the air still smelled of mildew and mold . She pondered how this was all Geralt knew of a home and found herself comparing their different worlds .

"Miss Helena, do I need to repeat myself?" A disgruntled voice interrupted her thoughts. "Silver and steel -- what is the difference?"

Vesemir, Geralt's mentor and father-figure, sat before her. She watched as the old man crossed his arms and shot a stern look in her direction. Like Geralt, his face was speckled with scars. A pair of golden eyes locked with hers, evidence of the mutations inflicted on a Witcher.

"Silver is for monsters," Helena stated, recalling what Geralt had told her months ago, as she gestured at the blades at their feet . "Steel is for humans. Steel can work on monsters too, but silver is more efficient, especially in cases like the Bruxa. Silver shouldn't be used on humans as it's delicate and shouldn't be used for combat."

When her companion told her that he knew a great teacher to teach her swordsmanship, she presumed he was referring to himself . Perhaps he'd taken into consideration her former education. That a slow-paced learning environment would benefit her more. Something he couldn't provide.

"Well done, Miss Helena." Vesemir stood with a stretch and a groan, "Later, we'll focus on how to properly hold your sword and stance.

Wait, she didn't think it'd be this slow.

Helena furrowed her brow, "That's all for today?"

"I didn't expect Geralt to winter at Kaer Morhen, let alone with a... guest. Though delighted to see you both, I mustn't let it get in the way of my nap.

"Lesson finished so soon?" Geralt questioned with a quirked brow as she left the study.

"Said something about needing a nap."

He hummed and drew her in for a hug. Helena was still getting used to the intimacy the Witcher displayed; he rarely did so freely. Each time, she'd feel his muscles tense, unsure. He'd melt the moment she'd wrap her arms around him -- touch starved and taking her all in.

"Since I'm not yet capable of steady holding a sword -- or at least until Master Vesemir wakes -- what do you suggest we do?"

"I could show you to your room," Geralt suggested with a smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The maiden titled her head and nibbled nervously on her bottom lip. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead of her voice, another spoke over her.

"Oi, pretty boy!"

The Witcher in her arms tensed up once more and muttered, "Fucking prick" ere abandoning her embrace. At the end of the hall stood two more Witchers.

"You know I heard that." The so-called 'prick' stated with arms crossed. He narrowed his cat-eyes at the pair and donned a sneer, "Who's your lady friend? Thought papa Vesemir said not to get involved."

His partner beside him walked over to greet Geralt. Despite the scar on his face leaving behind a permanent menacing grimace, he wrapped Geralt into a warm hug. Geralt returned the hug and gave the man a firm pat on the back.

"Helena, these are my brothers. This here is Eskel and that sod over there is Lambert."

Lambert faked a bow, "Charmed."

"Didn't think you'd be making it this winter," Geralt made conversation as he and Eskel began to walk down the corridor.

"Same as every year," was his reply.

Helena followed a beat behind to allow the friends to mingle. She looked to Lambert on her left who matched her pace but said nothing.

He eyed her back, "Never understood why you women wore blouses that show off your shoulders like that. Pointless. Showing off your tits, I understand, really. Noted and appreciated. But your shoulders? Bah." Unlike his older companion, Lambert didn't hold back nor hide his wandering gaze.

"Excuse me?"

"Too fuckin' cold in this dump," He quickened his pace to catch up with his brothers, "Got some whiskey from the Isles. Let's drink, men!"

Lambert took charge and now led them to the dining hall.

"Eskel, buddy, fetch the drink and some cups!" He sat down at a table with Geralt and Helena across from him. "How 'bout we play a game? Hm, strip Gwent?"

"I've never even played Gwent before," Helena replied with a frown.

"Even better."

Eskel came to the table, muttering under his breath he wasn't a barmaid. He set a tankard in front of each man and filled their cups.

"Only got mugs -- that okay, Helena?"

She hummed a reply and smiled as he poured her drink too. The drinking up looked comically large in her hands. She brought it up to her lips, sniffing the drink first, and took a mouthful. Much to the Witchers' amusement, Helena choked and sputtered, not expecting the burn.

"Want us to water it down for ya?" Geralt teased as he rubbed her back. She shook her head no, face red from both the alcohol and embarrassment.

"So, princess--" Lambert began.

Helena corrected him, "Actually, I'm only a Lady--"

"--whatever. What brings you to this shithole?"

Unsure how to answer, she looked to Geralt.

"Met her in Oxenfurt after a contract. Wanted to come see what we do." The white-haired man spoke for her with a shrug.

"So are you really a Lady?" Eskel asked.

She nodded with a small sip, "Lady Helena." She tapped her chin as she pretended to be in thought, "Though you may call me 'Your Grace.'"

"Your Grace," Lambert rolled his eyes and brought his mug up as if toasting. "Still doesn't answer my question. How? Sure. But why? Too many bonbons? Couldn't figure out which maid to terrorize?"

"Lay off her," Geralt ordered.

Helena dismissed it with a wave, "I want to feel like I was born more to be someone's wife and womb. I'm to be married in six months time and I want a memory I can look back on fondly."

Eskel nudged his buddy sitting beside him, "We of all people ought to understand the longing of choice."

"I've been working on a monster journal -- well, it's more of a diary, to be frank. I think it'd be swell to make a book about where I've gone and what I've seen. Hell, this is the farthest I've ever been from Oxenfurt. If it never graces a publisher or library, so be it. I'll read it to my brats before their wetnurse sees them to bed." She continued her rambling with blush and a chuckle.

The other two Witchers nodded at her, whereas Lambert clasped his hands together loudly, "So... Strip Gwent?"

"No," was the collective answer.

"Alright, killjoys. Any suggestions?"

The group thought for a moment and Helena spoke up.

"Back at university, we would play this game. It's called 'Never Have I Ever.' Someone starts by saying 'I've never...' and finishing the sentence however they want. Whoever has done that thing, downs a shot. Then it's the next guy's turn."

The game commenced and Helena was left to learn some interesting facts about the Witchers. Their mugs required multiple refills, she had yet to finish her first. She chalked it up to age difference and upbringing.

"Well, I appreciated the company," Helena took a last swig and stood, "But I should probably head to bed before I learn too much about you lot."

"Papa Vesemir havin' you polish swords in the morning?" Lambert teased causing the other Witchers to snicker at the innuendo.

Confused, she raised a brow and shook her head no.

"Aah, great, so you have time to polish my sword," The short-haired Witcher wouldn't relent and received a sharp glare from Geralt, "Fine, fine. I can polish my own sword while Helena polishes Geralt's. Eskel's sword is pretty small, so--" Eskel stopped laughing and swatted at Lambert who was consumed by his buzz.

Blinking, Helena shrugged it off. As the other two were consumed in a slapping fight, she dipped down to whisper in Geralt's ear, feeling brazened by the alcohol.

"I'll leave my door unlocked for you."

Bad idea.

Helena awoke a few hours to the sound of banging and crashing then loud shushing. She shot up and looked for the source of the noise as she rubbed sleep from her eyes.

In front of her were the three Witchers, backlit by the moon. Eskel and Geralt were dressed down to their underwear, whereas Lambert was wearing her favorite dressing gown. Eskel covered himself and looked away whereas Lambert put his hands on his hips, showing off an hourglass figure.

"Y-you mad at us, L-lena?" Geralt slurred his words as he struggled to stand. Helena huffed loudly and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Only mad that he looks better in it than I do."