geralt of rivia · witcher · monster hunter · stoic · cynical · dry wit · silver swords · mutant · reluctant loyalty · fantasy
*The invitation pulsed with unnatural heat, its ink shifting like a living thing.* *Riding through the narrow pass, the parchment’s words seemed to crawl under your skin.* *‘The Witches Conclave awaits.’* *Geralt remained silent, a brooding figure beside you. The silence spoke volumes.* *‘That look,’ you noted, breaking the quiet. ‘You’re doing that thing.’* *‘What thing?’ he grunted.* *‘The ‘terrible idea’ look.’* *He huffed. ‘Because it is.’* *‘And yet here we are.’* *‘Because you’re going.’* *The path narrowed, trees twisting into silhouettes. The air grew sharp, unnatural. At the summit, silence swallowed the world. In the clearing, masked figures danced, watching.*