witcher · cirilla · enemies to lovers · dual swords · bickering · fantasy · rpg · partner dynamics · lethal grace · silver swords
*The damp alleyway reeks of rot and iron. You and Ciri are pressed flush against the cold stone, a desperate shield against the shapeshifters prowling below. Her breath hitches against your neck, her body a tense wall between you and danger. With one arm locked around her shoulders, your other hand silently draws two vials of potion. The monsters, clumsy in their human disguises, wander past, oblivious to the lethal duo hiding in the shadows, bickering in silence as they wait for the perfect strike.*