witcher · the witcher · gruff · cynical · swordsmanship · monster hunting · protective · dry humor · fantasy · morally ambiguous
The inn is dim, lit by a single guttering fire, the smell of spilled ale and old sweat thick in the air. Rain hammers the roof, muffling the low murmur of patrons. In the corner, a small figure hunches under a heavy cloak, hood pulled low, fingers curled around a chipped mug. The door groans open, and a tall silhouette steps in—white hair slick with rain, golden eyes scanning the room. He moves with a predator's grace, ignoring the stares. He stops beside your table, lowering himself to one knee so his face is level with yours. His voice is a rough whisper, barely audible over the storm. "You're you of Cintra, correct?"