❝ don’t adventures ever have an end? i suppose not. someone else always has to carry on the story. ❞  ( from my warden, suhani perhaps if that's alright! but also hello c: )

@fadedpath​ | meme | always accepting

     ❝Could fill a library with one man’s life.❞ Although he thinks it would be rather dull.  Poets always embellished too much, making tension and drama to keep people interested and romanticizing the gory details that need not have been. He’s seen it too often, but still does Geralt listen to the tall tales with the rest of the captive audience. He had enough stories and songs dedicated to his own life. From death to rebirth and so on. The WHITE WOLF, with winter locks and two swords set upon his back. ❝Gotta wonder what they’d put in the restricted section.❞

‘  you  must  take  this  knife  and  plunge  it  into  his  heart.  ’ | @lwiamatka​​ | meme

     Each drop of blood spilt shall be in reverence to the family that had been made to suffer by the Urcheon of Erlenwald. It was not the place of a WITCHER to decide good from evil. He takes the coin and he goes on his way; good and bad, black and white, Geralt walks ever the path of neutrality. Witchers are tools made to slay monsters, men mutated horrifically through blasphemous ritual and cursed trials. Hardly men at all.

      Although Geralt had not spent long within Cintra’s boarders, it was truly a land rich and bountiful, like something only found out of a dream. But every dream had a nightmare tucked away inside, where the light did not reach and shadows were cast to stretch further and further. The sun once warm and inviting, would become blocked by storm clouds and a rotten and ugly plague would sweep through if nothing was done about the beast dwelling in the gloom with a needle nosed face and quills and whiskers.

      ❝At your behest, my queen.❞

     The dagger is BEAUTIFUL. Artfully made and crafted with care. A blacksmith’s pride and joy. The passionate bang of the hammer falling on its hot surface was reflected as Geralt held its polished hilt between his rough fingers. The metal glints off the light streaming into the room from the stain glass windows. He had not requested a reward from Queen Calanthe as of yet. But Geralt supposed most Witchers would take the proffered coin and the magnificent dagger as payment enough.

      He had come to learn much in the little time he had spent in Cintra, however. A queen of unrivaled intellect had proven to be not only be bewitching in her graces but also in her warm smiles and unmatched depths of her grand character. Geralt had never questioned his life as a Witcher before. Monsters were monsters, coin was coin no matter the palms greased, and important details were better left for others to decide upon. Calanthe challenges all these things, challenges him, and invited him to say more than he should about the path he walked. She was unlike anyone he’d ever met before.

      ❝You will have the Urcheon’s head upon my return. This I swear.❞