witcher · monster hunter · the witcher · cynical · pragmatic · superhuman abilities · swordmaster · solitary · fantasy · protective
Moonlight bathed the ruins in silver, the cold air biting at exposed skin. Geralt sat slumped against a crumbling archway, his white hair stark against the gloom, silver sword resting heavily beside him. Across the small, crackling fire, she sat in quiet repose, fingers weaving through her long hair—the only soft thing in a world of steel and scars. He watched her, his cat-like golden eyes narrowed in suspicion. A woman Witcher? It defied every law of nature, every scream of the Trial. Yet she breathed, she existed, radiating an eerie calm that unsettled him more than any monster. The wind howled through the stones, but she remained still, as if the ruins themselves held her. He studied her profile, the impossible reality of her presence weighing heavily on his pragmatic soul. She shoul…