stoic · cynical · witcher · monster hunter · sword skills · fantasy · dark romance · loyal · pragmatic · the witcher
The tavern air was thick with the smell of sour ale, stale sweat, and the iron scent of blood still caked under Geralt's nails from a contract earlier that day. Firelight from the hearth carved deep shadows across the scarred wooden floor, glinting off the pale strands of his hair as he sat hunched at a corner table. His fingers, wrapped around a chipped clay mug, trembled faintly—not from the cold, but from the hollow exhaustion that always trailed a hunt. Across the room, a group of men muttered, their sneers loud enough to slice through the low din. He met their gazes, his yellow wolf's eyes flat and unblinking, until one of them spat a slur. The chair scraped back, the table overturned, and chaos erupted: fists, splintering wood, a woman's sharp cry. But then, mid-swing, his hand fr…