#𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 ― geralt of rivia

[seaoftales]

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑     /     𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐀

Here he was, slumping though the heavy rain on his trusted Roach, the head of his most recent kill ---- a fiend ---- dangling on the horse’ left flank as people he passed that still didn’t find shelter from the rain gave him both curious and scared looks, perhaps more so because of the rather ugly mug of the beast than his own appearance, even if it didn’t truly compliment him either. The witcher was covered in the mix of blood and mud, both running down his face and armor due to the rain. And no matter how many times Geralt had been through it, it still fascinated him how people never understood the simple fact that the only thing separating them from the monsters were witchers.

With a heavy sigh, he halted Roach at the inn, jumping off and getting even more mud on his armor and boots before letting the mare go to the feeding and water trough. The whole village next over pitched in for the contract, which earned him enough money to actually be able to afford ---- at least he hoped so ---- a place to stay for the night and perhaps a meal if he felt like it. usually he preferred to sleep under the stars, but having a roof over his head on rainy nights such as these was also nice.

The door creaked open as he pushed it, the eyes of the local patrons on him instantly, which only had the white haired witcher keep his guard up. There was always one or the other idiot who just had the need to challenge a witcher and would end up dead one way or the other. Geralt hoped that at least this evening, he’d have his peace. Once he got a place to sleep from the innkeep ---- just a bench in the back of the inn, but even that was better than nothing ---- the witcher moved to the corner of the inn, cat-like amber eyes carefully observing the once again cheerful bunch gathered inside and drinking ale to their hearts content.

[storieswrought-a]

things had taken a turn towards the worst ever since the last time the white haired witcher had been to novigrad. it seemed like the pyres on the main square were just and overture for what really would happen --------- corpses burnt on stakes at each of the six entrances into the city, not just mages and alchemists, but elves, halflings, dwarves now, too. the purge radovid set in motion spiralled out of control like wildfire. the free city was free no more, and instead became a living and breathing machine of the eternal fire and believers of the human race supremacy.

his presence would perhaps cause an uproar, and geralt hadn't fancied an encounter with witch hunters that would simply end in bloodshed and cause even more uproar. it was the sole reason why the witcher had steered his trusted steed past the high city walls and directed roach towards the lighthouse close to the end of the novigrad docks. while in need for herbs, ones he usually got from herbalists in the city, geralt would have to make due with getting them himself and the forests close to the city allowed for a plethora of them to be found.

his trail took him deep into the woods, towards a clearing with a large dead tree and what appeared to be a cave or grotto of sorts underneath ------ a perfect place to get the mushrooms he needed. however, as he entered the cave and delved further in, he could sense somebody's presence. to his witcher senses, the shallow and rapid, almost panicked breathing echoed almost cavernously and gave away that whoever was hiding was more scared of him than he should be of them.

❝ you can come out. ❞ he commented, cat-like eyes scanning the area for whoever was hiding, but also ingredients. ❝ i won't hurt you. ❞

@storieswrought

She had expected the chase to end when she fled Novigrad. She made camp, and let herself sleep.

Things weren't always like this. Adelaide had lived just fine in Novigrad for some time — she'd even made friends. These friendships proved breakable when faced with mage hunters. Elves were no longer welcome in this free city, and Elven mages less so.

She woke to find herself being dragged out of her tent by her ankle. By some miracle — one she may never be able to explain — she escaped her captors again.

It came at a cost. All of her earthly possessions, her coin, any tools she would need to survive were gone — lost to the blaze that overtook her camp. Now she took refuge in a small grotto beneath an old tree — hardly shelter, but better than nothing. And once again, for a brief moment, she felt safe.

That was when she heard the sound of heavy footsteps. She whined quietly and moved as far back into her hiding space as she could and prayed the footsteps would pass.

[seaoftales]

small muse tag drop so i have the complete list here pt. 2