#Following the thread witcher

[gaygayaurel]

Not to be consumed by insanity but the fact people are still like "oh wow jad karadin is so nice girl nice i cant believe lambert would kill him" he was still a slaver and most of his wealth comes from slavery. Literally just pull the trigger. Plus I doubt he really stopped, he just stopped dealing with Hammond in riskier business.

[ladycibia]

I am shocked you not once drawn adien and lambert

I have, I have! Only once though. And my Aiden design is very lazy (it's a nod to the tv show and nothing else). Anyway, I'm sorry but I don't plan on drawing them again anytime soon, I'm more interested in silly things based on my own experience with the game

[minne-cerbinna]

I'm playing TW1 again and I have thoughts about this tiny little sequence in the Chapter 2 quest "Memories of a Blade", which amounts to the only mention of Coën in the game.

When undertaking this quest, Geralt is investigating the origin of the silver sword he was given to slay a cockatrice; he mistakenly believes that it might be Berengar's sword since he knows the other witcher to have been in the area. A conversation with Thaler, from whom the sword was confiscated by the guard, will lead him eventually to speak to the Gardener outside St. Lebioda's hospital in Vizima. This man used to be a mercenary under Pretty Kitty, but has since retired and works as a gardener, and had lost the silver sword at dice poker. When interacted with, he will begin any conversation with "Look how they grow!", referring to the plants in his garden. The player can then initiate the quest dialogue with option one, "I'm more interested in silver swords".

GERALT: I'm more interested in silver swords.

GARDENER: I knew one of you would come by eventually.

GERALT: You lost it playing dice?

GARDENER: I was sure I'd win. Beware, the sharp one plays well.

GERALT: Where did you get this sword?

GARDENER: Five years ago, there was a battle near Brenna. When the dust had settled, our men had beaten the Nilfgaardians. We ceased to call ourselves an imperial province that day.

GERALT: You captured the sword during the battle?

GARDENER: Yes, it was witcher Cöen's [sic]. A strapping fellow and a rare breed. Not very talkative, mind you.

GERALT: Like most of us.

GARDENER: I gave my word the sword would find another witcher. As he lay dying, he mumbled about teeth and destiny. Then he laughed -- at his own death.

GERALT: Yet you lost it gambling?

GARDENER: I kept it hidden for five years. I lost hope I'd ever run into another witcher. Miss Shani knew Cöen [sic]. She works at the hospital.

GERALT: Thanks.

GARDENER: Good luck on the path!

The quest will lead you to speak with Shani, then Zoltan, but neither will provide further information on Coën, aside from Shani mentioning that he died on her operating table -- Shani's dialogue is to provide her backstory as a medic at Brenna and to mention Rusty, and Zoltan simply assesses the quality of the blade to ensure that it is a witcher blade of good workmanship. It has no further significance to Geralt, who, without his memory, has no idea who Coën is and has more pressing matters to deal with than to look into the past of a man who died five years ago (according to the somewhat off-kilter game timeline, anyway). But it's the only mention of Coën in the games, and I find that it's a very interesting way to manifest his presence.

I think it is reasonable to tie Coën quite closely to his sword on a symbolic level, if one considers his appearance in the novels where he not only trains with Ciri, but his prowess with a sword is unrivaled even by the other witchers to the point where she believes that he may be the best swordsman in the world. Additionally, the fact that he fought at Brenna at all means that he offered his sword in the service of the Northern Kingdoms, and when he dies, he is identified by his peers as a "master swordsman" rather than as a witcher, despite the fact that they know of his nature. As such, Coën's sword is a very important possession for him to leave behind.

And from there, there is a connection to Lambert, left unsaid. To go beyond the simple fact that Coën was Lambert's friend, someone dearly loved who was close enough with Lambert and his family to get on with the other wolves and stay a winter at Kaer Morhen, the importance lies with the sword. As with any witcher, Coën wouldn't have much in the way of worldly possessions to bequeath onto someone else in the event of his prophecied death. But he does have his swords, which are established as symbolically important to him. A steel sword could be taken up by any warrior capable enough to use it, but a silver sword belongs in the hands of a witcher, and that is what Co��n asked for on his deathbed, for his silver sword to be given to another witcher. While it's very possible that this is meant in a general way, that he just wanted any other witcher to take it up, to avoid the sword being wasted, broken, or dismantled for its composite parts, it also strikes me as possible that he could have intended it for a specific witcher.

Lambert is one of the instructors for Ciri when she's first learning the swordplay and acrobatics associated with being a witcher. Lambert is the one in the first game to provide the instructional descriptions of the Fighting Styles for Geralt to regain his swordplay competencies after losing his memories. And there is another bit of dialogue in TW3 that really emphasises both Lambert's connection to Vesemir, the swordmaster of Kaer Morhen, and the idea of swords as inheritance, as a manifestation of closeness:

LAMBERT: Knew the old man couldn't live forever. Huh, even told Eskel that when it came time, I'd get his sword. Fits my hand perfectly, you know.

Which is a heartbreaking notion in and of itself upon which I could expostulate, the symbolism there in the fraught relationship between Lambert and his father figure reduced to something as simple as a hilt that fits two hands perfectly. But if this is the inheritance that Lambert wants, it makes it all the more pertinent that Coën desperately wanted his silver sword to make it into the hands of another witcher. Lambert, the son of a swordmaster, wants to take on a sword as a memento of someone he has lost, and Coën, the master swordsman, left his sword behind. Even if Lambert were not the specific intended target of the sword, he would have possibly or even likely known Coën well enough to fulfill his wishes, whatever they might be.

And yet Coën's sword never makes it home or into the hands of someone who would value it, like Lambert would, this last memory of his dear friend. Geralt makes use of the sword during his time in Vizima, and then it is lost, replaced by the gifted Aerondight. And so Coën is lost with it, never mentioned again.

[stromuprisahat]

I’ll wait there, he said. Instead he’s leaning on the nearest wall, like a slut and I’m supposed to believe he’s trying to avenge his “friend”? More like boyfriend, there’s nothing heterosexual about this pose.

[violaceum-vitellina-viridis]

8. but i wore his jacket for the longest time.

:3

here, have some... well. laiden, except aiden is still dead, and it's geralt's POV and more about geralt than anything

he doesn’t notice it, not at first. he’s too distracted – by lambert’s distress, his anger and desperation; by the image of a witcher pretending at a normal life, the almost saccharine efforts at remorse that sounded more like jad taking the piss.

but after, when karadin is dead and lambert looks almost at peace because of it – he notices. the second chain around lambert’s neck, the end hidden under his gambeson. the flash of blue beneath the usual black and brown, close to lambert’s chest and just as hidden as the new medallion. the unmistakable stain of blood, there, too, when he looks closer.

lambert asks if he wants to talk about it, and he says no – not because he doesn’t. no, it’s because he knows lambert, the prickliest of them, doesn’t, even if he offers. he would, for geralt’s sake – or eskel’s, were it him that happened to be in novigrad at the right time. but he doesn’t ask for his own health. he never has.

so he notices that lambert is wearing something of aiden’s – he can’t prove that, but it’s an easy enough puzzle to piece together – and he keeps it to himself. and when, later, he meets a cat caught between bigotry and his own life, who stops because of a little girl, well – 

he lets him live. it wouldn’t mean anything to lambert – or to jad, probably buried and bones by now, and he can’t say it would mean anything to this aiden he never met. but it means something to him, and to gaetan, wherever the wind takes him.

[kenobihater]

i'm thinking hard about how every meaningful interaction the player has with lambert in the witcher 3 is with a man who is grieving. first is the loss of aiden, who lambert is defensive of and shares the bare minimum about during following the thread, basically just enough of his positives so he can ensure geralt helps him track down aiden's killers.

when we see him at kaer morhen before juicing up the phylactry at the circle of elements during the final trial, he's making booze, and later admits to drinking alone. he's not coping well with any of his grief, either regarding the loss of aiden or his more distant past, as is evident by the conversation about voltehre and later the conversation about his childhood.

in following the thread he's mourning aiden, in the final trial he's mourning both voltehre and his life pre-trials, and in blood on the battlefield, well... he's mourning the only real father-figure he's ever known, as is made obvious by his voicelines if keira isn't present and he doesn't feel the need to put on a brave façade.

lambert's entire diposition in game is shaped by the fact that he's actively mourning aiden and later vesemir, and that he's still bitter over both the death of voltehre and of his childhood innocence. he's in pain, and lonely, and resentful of the entire world! he's a grief-stricken man haunted by the weight of the past!! every meaningful conversation geralt has with him feels like traversing a minefield because he's bereaved!!!

[popjunkie42]

The Thief and the Rake: Chapter Five

Chapter Five: They Said I Did Something Bad II Read on AO3

Summary: Forgotten by all good society, the Archerons receive a surprise invitation from a distant relative that gives the sisters a chance for one single season in London. One single season to lie, scheme and attract a rich enough suitor to marry Miss Elain and pull them out of poverty for good. It's a lucky thing Feyre Archeron has perfected the skills of lifting the burden of extra wealth from those too laden to notice a few coins skimmed off the top. Unfortunately for her, the Viscount Rhysand Sterling catches her in the act...and then insists on hiring her for her services. Can the Archeron sisters make it through a London season alive and with their reputations intact? A Regency AU.

Chapter Five: Feyre goes hunting.

I hope you like Feysand banter! Rhysand is here and he is not going to fade into the shadows...

Thanks and love to @witch-and-her-witcher for the beta read and endless support.

Read on AO3 or have a Chapter 5 snippet under the cut!

The sweet sound of Elain’s laughter filled the dining hall in the Lambton manor, followed by the gaggle of gentlemen around her. A ridiculous sight, the one bright glowing lady amidst her many admirers.

Nesta and Feyre watched from a distance, small glasses of punch in their hands.

“So everything is going as planned, then?” Feyre asked.

Nesta took a dainty sip from the porcelain teacup. “If someone worthwhile comes around.”

Feyre laughed with shock. “The Grand Duke has visited twice. He’s on her dance card tonight.”

“We can’t put all our hopes on just one gentleman. Besides, he’s a man. They’re fickle.”

The sisters watched as Elain’s dance card fluttered from her wrist to fall onto the ground. One of her audience, a man in a smart brown jacket with long tails, kneeled to pick it up, offering it to her with a hopeful smile.

“What do you think they all talk about?” Feyre asked.

“Themselves, of course.”

Feyre scoffed. “Has no one’s caught your eye?”

Sometimes she swore she could feel the emotions of her sister like the shifting of the elements. The flame of her temper, the icy cold of her anger. Like the flare of the fireplace crackling with a new log against her face.

“We’re not here for me.”

“We could be. According to Elain, any of us could fall in love at any moment.”

A glance shared between them. The hint of a smile. Feyre swallowed against the hint of elation at Nesta’s approval, the two of them working together, watching their plan unfold.

Nesta wouldn’t have to know how close she was now to being caught and ruining everything. Let her sister think she’s succeeding, providing for them, just a little bit longer.

Feyre took a deep breath, fighting against the tightness between her shoulder blades. “I doubt anyone here could be found worthy of you. For you to find someone worthy of Elain will be hard enough.”

“And what about you, little sister? Walking around on the arm of that Viscount?”

Her face heated at the fire. The hint of an insult in her tone. Little feral Feyre.

“I’m not here to find a husband.” Too hopeful of Feyre to think her sister would offer her much kindness at all.

“What are you here for tonight, then?” Nesta eyed the glistening stones around her neck, worth more than everything in their closets and then some. “You’re not exactly being subtle.”

Feyre picked at a loose thread on her dress, unable to meet Nesta’s eyes. “I’m working.”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re working. It seems like you’re playing a game. Maybe a foolish one.”

Feyre’s eyes scanned the party. Looking for a now-familiar figure, clad in black.

“Maybe I’m hunting.”

Read the rest on AO3

Tag list:

@that-little-red-head @damedechance @rosanna-writer @fantasticalnonsense18 @dreamlandreader @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @annaskareninas @foundress0fnothing @areyoudreaminof @cauldronblssd @starfall-spirit

[nim-lock]

Quick lil thread of my Witcher merch :0!!!

Shop closing tomorr night (Dec 4); a print sale to follow Dec 6-8. jyangart.com/shop

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

Chapter 10: Old Friend New Life

Summary:

Geralt was given an address by Emhyr to seek the answers why he must accept the contract. There, Geralt meets an old friend and the witcher got more than he bargained for.   Spoiler: This chapter follows one of the three endings of Blood and Wine, making it the canon ending for this fic.

The address led Geralt to an antique-esque establishment that has seen better days and looked out of place among its more up-to-date, prestigious neighbors. It looks like it belonged in a different district. Or a different century. Several centuries. Without the empires’ intervention in preserving heritage structures, the council of merchants- and the capitals planning committee would have demolished the place and erected a building to match the current times.

Geralt glanced up at the shop’s sign above the gray awning, and grinned.

Vinne Exotisch

The etching below it: a goblet surrounded by grapes and an assortment of painted herbs and tubers that are generally identified as deadly poisons. There was an odd sign that did not belong, carved in the center of the goblet.

Geralt recognized it immediately. To the ignorant, it is just any other daring danger symbol. Geralt has seen them carved inside the walls of the human pens in Tesham Mutna.

The symbol of the Gharasham Tribe.

The door opened from the inside and a well-dressed young man exited, holding a wine bottle wrapped in dark brown paper that looked finer than the establishment it belonged to. Geralt grabbed the door before it closes, entered and flipped the “OPEN” sign to “CLOSE”.

A familiar cultured voice greeted him from behind the counter.

“Pick your poison, witcher, I believe I may have a bottle or two that you’ve not tried yet but I guarantee, it is far more satisfying that the usual concoctions you imbibed before a hunt, and much more intoxicating than all the wines in Toussaint.”

Geralt smiled, unbuckling his swords to rest on the counter surface.

“Well, well, you finally decided to market your mandrake brews to the public. I expected you’d be a barber-surgeon or a medic, not a vintner.”

Regis stepped out from behind the counter to shake Geralts’ proffered hand. The witcher, instead, pulled the vampire into a bear hug. After, Geralt held Regis at arms length and gave his old friend a look over, and chuckled.

“Heh, mister fancy pants! Traded your threadbare coat for some expensive threads-” he sniffed “- and smelling of soap instead of the inside of an apothecary.”

Regis gave him a full toothed grin, showing off those frighteningly sharp teeth. “Why not! In this city, cleanliness is next to godliness is the unwritten strict policy that every citizen of the empire takes into heart.”

Like the majority of the nilfgaardians, Emiel Regis wore black. His doublet is embroidered with gold threads in the pattern of elven vines partly covered by a fine short black cloak chained across and below his left armpit. He posed like a matador for Geralt.

“You like it? The outfit gives off an air of trust: which is very vital for a merchant selling exotics. Separates the snake oil salesmen from the experts.”

An eccentric expert more like, Geralt though humorously. “I never cared for doublets so I don’t know much about fashion. Try asking Yennefer. But you do look like you belong with the nobility. I can’t say the same about your shop.”

Regis waved a hand in dismissal. “Ah yes, this building is outdated, but it adds to the appeal of my exotic brews. Did you notice the sign outside?”

“Pretty hard to miss, since you advertise the tribe you belonged to. That is a dangerous symbol to wave about around these parts, even if, as you say, that nilfgaardians are so modern in their sensibilities that they think your kind are just boogeymen to scare the children to behave.”

“No humans have seen our vampire symbols, apart from yourself. And there are Toussaintous who mistook the visible ones as signs of the old gods of this world, even pray to them.”

[sunzetzzz]

The Phoenix and The Swan.

Swan!Sunghoon x Phoenix!malereader.

tw: fluff and some angst at the end, mention of a dagger and mild violence.

English is not my first language, sorry!! <3

The melody… a melody… that melody… There was something in that beautiful melody that was taking him somewhere in that forest, somewhere deep in the forest.

But there was something in the melody that had sweetened it.

Maybe it was her sweetness or the beauty she emitted, but he could never even think about where it came from, he just followed her.

In a lake, while the melody became more noticeable to the ear, but remained soft, right in the center of the beautiful place, a white swan danced between crystal clear waters and fairies next to the melody, moving its limbs in perfect synchrony, floating on the water.

He did not know how to describe such a beauty of a man, an Adonis perhaps, but this boy was much more than that and much more than simple and heavenly beauty. So, not wanting to scare the divinity in front of his eyes, he hid among some bushes near the water that allowed him to continue admiring the swan.

While he was enjoying himself between sighs and blushes, his clumsiness made him trip and fall into the lake, rolling across the green grass, getting scared once he was in the depths.

In his desperation, he punched the air for help, trying not to swallow water and to prevent his lungs from absorbing water. And when he least thought that someone would help him… warm hands held his wrists and as if it were a delicate push, his body rose to the surface, meeting the sun shining gold on the wet skin of the white swan.

Oh, it was perfect. With delicate features like an angel, skin white as a new canvas with small stars on her cheeks, hair as black as the night, eyes that carried the stars and lips similar to the color of peach.

''Are you a being from another world?'' The fire-haired boy asked. He asked without any hint of shame, hypnotized by that man in front of his eyes who was holding him by the waist in his arms with half his body in the water.

He could only smile sweetly and tilt his head to the side as if he didn't understand the question.

''You are beautiful, almost unreal.'' He was surprised, raising a hand to touch the velvety pale cheek that was little by little turning pink with the blush of other people's embarrassment at the compliment.

The boy's starry eyes curved into a crescent shape as he leaned into the young man's touch, feeling warm in the pampering he gave him.

Then, when she least thought the melody was getting sweeter and sweeter, something made her become frantic…

Someone exploded in anger upon seeing their swan with a mere mundane human.

A terrible sorcerer with a gloomy appearance, with his eyes on fire and uncontrollable anger, approached the lake where the lovers embraced each other in search of each other's warmth. The swan, being the first to notice, embraced the young man with threads of fire and protected him. Her innocent gaze terrified towards the witcher.

Oh, the poor swan had broken a rule of his creator and that was that he couldn't get close to humans, since they could ruin him.

The boy born from a spark hid the swan behind him and faced the witcher.

''Stay away from him if you don't want to visit the kingdom of Hades!'' The old warlock spat his words at him, irritated.

The beauty behind him pulled half of his wet dress and with one look begged him to stop… but he wasn't going to give in.

Kissing his forehead lovingly, she took the dagger that was kept hidden under her skirt and pointed it at the old man.

''You should not keep such a divinity here, you are an arrogant and selfish being.'' He looked at him seriously, wielding with his right hand the pure silver dagger that shone under the rays of sunlight.

The witcher laughed boisterously, raising his hands in the air as he invoked the spirits of the forest in ancient languages ​​foreign to his knowledge.

The swan sobbed in silence, remaining hugged to the boy's waist, closing his eyes when everything went dark and the voices combined with cries of pain were present.

The fire Phoenix was distracted by its concern to calm the nerves of its swan, the sorcerer took advantage of this to invoke a black lightning bolt that approached the burning heart.

But the swan was not going to allow his Phoenix to be killed…

He pushed the boy into the water and instead… the black lightning pierced his pure white heart.

While the light made its way through the clouds and little by little revealed the splendid place, the Phoenix held the white swan in his arms, watching as black roots were born in the place of the heart and spread throughout the white canvas.

With the swan shedding crystallized drops, she smiled one last time at the Phoenix and vanished into black feathers.

The Phoenix, devastated by the loss and with a feather on his left palm, raised his free hand to his chest until it pierced the flesh, ripping out his heart in flames, and begged the gods to be reunited with his white swan in the sky so they could remain together.

Hi! My name is Uriel and this is the first story that I decide to publish here. English is not my first language so if you see errors I apologize in advance.

Thanks so much for reading! <3

[jensjumbledmess]

My review/thoughts about A Grain of Truth by Jack Rembiś, based on the short story by Andrzej Sapkowski.

Star & Spice Rating: ⭐️ 4/5, 🌶️ 0/5

TWs: Blood & Gore, Nudity (Female & Male), Sexual Assault

Judging a Book By It’s Cover: I think the cover is really pretty, the blue roses make a nice contrast to the beast door knocker and Geralt himself.

✨📖Review📖✨

If you enjoyed the story A Grain of Truth from The Last Wish, then of course you’re going to enjoy this; it’s the same story, just told as a graphic novel. This little comic makes a great addition to any Witcher fan’s collection. The art in it is BEAUTIFUL, and as a matter of fact, I liked the art in this SO MUCH MORE than most of the art in The Witcher Omnibus, Volume 1. I can't get over it; the pages seem so vibrant, even the dark scenes. I love the way the characters are depicted. I will definitely be adding The Lesser Evil to my collection too at some point and I would love it if Jack Rembiś adapted all the other short stories as well.

For those that don’t know, A Grain of Truth is essentially a Beauty and the Beast retelling. Geralt encounters two dead bodies while traveling, leading to him investigate the area. He then stumbles across a strange, shy woman who runs away after he greets her; nearby finding  a manor, with a big courtyard and unique blue rose bush. While literally stopping to smell the roses, a large beast bursts from the manor in a (failed) attempt to scare Geralt away. The beast’s name is Nivellen, and he has been cursed into this form by a priestess after he was basically peer-pressured into sexually assaulting her many years ago. After Geralt and Nivellen talk and have dinner, Geralt decides to simply leave after Nivellen confesses that he has come to appreciate and favor his beastly form and doesn’t want Geralt to try to break the curse. Over night, Geralt has the revelation that the strange woman outside the manor, who has been keeping Nivellen company, may actually be very dangerous.

Thank you for reading! If you liked my review/thoughts, consider following me on [GoodReads], [Bookstagram], or [Threads]! (I tend to post on GoodReads & Threads first!)

[littlestsnicket]

title: the one about the raven (or ever-lasting love) by cee

word count: 4.3k

yenralt; ciri&geralt&yennefer; post-canon

i very suddenly realized i had recced no yenralt fic, and i really had to fix that.

while this is vaguely post-game-canon, i adore the book inspired characterizations. it’s so easy to see book!ciri in this older ciri’s humor and determination. and geralt and yennefer! the way cee writes the depth of their intimacy without shying away from the way both of them are deeply guarded people who have to do a lot of work to be open is absolutely brilliant and something i’m always looking for in this pairing.

excerpt:

“Well, let this be a lesson to you.” Ciri jabs a finger at them with nose lifted arrogantly. “The student has become the teacher, you should seek my help next time. I solved it all on my own with barely two threads to follow.”

“You know what they say about the one who makes the biggest claim,” Geralt retorts, but he’s more distracted by the exhausted enchantress resting heavily against him. Besides, he is proud of Ciri - even if it’s at his expense.

“Save you sage advice for another night,” Ciri says with a haughty wave of her hand.

The flush crawling across Ciri’s cheeks and the bridge of her nose is plain to see as another log is added to the hearth with a bloom of sharpened firelight. Apparently, Yen isn’t the only one feeling the strong Dwarven spirits. 

“Go off to bed while I rouse up a game of cards.” The young witcher peers around the room predatorily. “I see some rare cards ripe for the plucking.”

Yennefer makes a disapproving sound, reassuring them both that she isn’t completely out of sorts.

“Try to behave like the lady you are.”

The back of Ciri’s hand wipes at her nose once more, brazen disrespect emboldened by the high-altitude buzz. She’ll pay for it, no doubt, but in the way of a massive hangover in the morning Yennefer will drag her feet to ease.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Chapter 2!!!!

Lambert followed as the boy, who had given his name as Billy on the way out, galloped ahead on Aiden’s mare. Fuck, things must be bad if he had Aiden’s horse as well as his medallion.

Lambert found himself thinking that if this was a trap, it was definitely one of the better thought-out ones he’d encountered.

They’d ridden about three miles out from the town before Billy pulled the horse to a halt, “He’s through there.” He said gesturing to a break in the trees. Lambert cursed under his breath; it was too small to lead the animals through.

“Wait here.” He growled as he dismounted and thrust his reins into Billy’s face, “Watch the horses and don’t think I won’t hear if you try to run off with them.”

The boy nodded rapidly, turning pale and smelling slightly apprehensive as Lambert disappeared into the trees.

“Hello there.” Aiden gasped out from where he was propped up against a tree stump. Bleeding heavily and surrounded by dead nekkers. Lambert snarled, anyone with a working pair of eyes would be able to see there were clearly far more than ten, “Was beginning to think I’d made a mistake sending the lad after you.”

Lambert stalked forwards, not caring about the monster corpses he was squishing under his boots, “Billy dragged me away from an afternoon at the Inn. Left him with the horses on the road.”

“Oh, that’s his name? Didn’t catch it.”

Lambert grabbed the satchel he spotted on the top of the stump, trying to fight down the spark of panic at the blood flecks on Aiden’s mouth.

“You taken anything?” He asked as he started rummaging through the satchel, noting the amount of empty vials, “Kiss, Swallow?”

“Didn’t have any Kiss, just some Swallow. Wasn’t enough though. Need-” He hissed as his hand spasmed over a particularly deep gash on his stomach, teeth pink with blood, “Need help.”

“So why send for me, why not send him to get the healer? This needs to come off.” Lambert gave the edge of Aiden’s tunic and armour a tug as he uncorked a vial of Kiss from his own satchel and held it to Aiden’s mouth.

“Can’t always rely on healers. You though-“ He bit back a yelp as Lambert shifted him to start trying to divest him of his upper layers, “Wrong school but still Witcher.”

Lambert couldn’t quite place how that made him feel as looked Aiden over as clinically as possible. From what Vesemir and Geralt had told him of the tournament and Cats as a whole during his younger days, he and Aiden probably both knew no tears would be shed if Lambert just ended him there and then. He could even justify it as a mercy from the sorry state Aiden was currently in. He wanted to ask the Cat what made him so damn sure he would help just because they happened to share this particular brand of damnation. Instead he said, “Some of these need stitching. I want to start with this one.” Gesturing to the stomach wound which was still bleeding sluggishly despite the potions.

“Yaaay.” Aiden said dryly as Lambert lowered him so he was flat on his back, using the Cat’s own tunic as a barrier between him and the forest floor. His eyes started to flutter closed, the adrenaline and anything he’d taken during the fight starting to leave his system.

“Oi. Not yet.” Lambert gave his face a couple of light taps, “No passing out whilst we’re still out here.”

Aiden gave a whine which turned into a grunt as the needle and thread made the first stitch.

“How the fuck did the boy get involved in this?” Lambert blurted out, attempting to keep Aiden awake. He knew enough field first aid, but he really didn’t want Aiden losing consciousness until he was able to at least move him to get him somewhere safer.

“Woodsman’s son. Wrong place, wrong time. Fuckers swarmed me when I tried to keep them away from him.”

“Why not just tell him to run?”

Aiden shook his head, “Would’ve followed him. Had to keep him close. Safe.”

Lambert nodded and gave a hum of acknowledgement, that explained why Billy had been so eager for Lambert to go with him at least.

“You always travel with shit all potions on you?”

Aiden gave a noise which almost sounded offended (although whether that was from the question or from lambert pinching his arm to stop him drifting, he wasn’t sure.).

“Was only supposed to be ten. Fucking Adept could deal with that. Not my fault the cheating fucker lied.”

The questions carried on in the same vein. Lambert making sure to stay away from anything overly personal, feeling like that’d somehow be taking advantage whilst the other Witcher was half delirious from exhaustion and blood loss at this point.

It was when he’d tied off the last stitch to a bite on Aiden’s shoulder and was carrying him back to the horses, he asked what had been at the back of his mind from the start, “What made you so sure I’d still be in town?”

Aiden gave him a slightly dopey smile, his eyes now only a thin line of green through heavy lids, “Just had a feeling.” He didn’t elaborate any further as he chose that moment to slip into unconsciousness.

“Alright.” Lambert sighed, balancing Aiden on the saddle in front of him and motioning for Billy to follow along on Aiden’s mare again.

It wasn’t until later, when the healer was leaving the room Aiden had rented at the Inn Lambert realised that he still had the others medallion in his pocket.

(Sidenote, my brain has Aiden saying the "Hello there." Obi Wan Kenobi style.)

[cetra]

Following the Thread

[Image ID: 2 GIFs of Lambert from The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt. He has short brown hair and is wearing black and red armor. He smirks in the first GIF and rolls his eyes in the second GIF. /End ID.]

[astaldis]

Not A Good Place To Stay The Night ...

@witchermonstermayhem

Witcher Monster of the Month June Prompt: Yikes

Characters: The Hansa | Geralt's Company Members (The Witcher)

Published: 2024-05-01; Completed: 2024-05-07; Words: 5,530; Chapters: 2/2

He never wanted to take this route. Not that he has been here before, but he has heard rumours, and they do not bode well. Neither does the almost darkness between the tall trees, nor the stuffy air smelling of rot and decay, or the absolute silence. It is never a good sign when there are no birds or squirrels around, not even mice. Of course, it is already autumn and he would not expect the animals to be as active as in spring when they are busy mating and finding food for their young. Yet, in a normal forest with acorns and beechnuts and pinecones and all kinds of other seeds, they would surely hop and flit about to eat as much as possible before the winter. Damn the marching Nilfgaardian troops for making it impossible for him and his companions to stay on the main road and out of this darkest of forests.

Uneasily, Geralt gazes around. The only signs of life besides the ancient, gnarly trees, the thorny underbrush and the dead stalks of grass and withered summer flowers are spiders' webs, and lots of them. Their silvery threads seem to be spread across every bush, spun between every yellowed blade of grass and draped around every bare branch of the trees, some of the webs tiny, no bigger in diameter than a ducat, others almost as big as a wagon wheel.

"Yikes, that stuff is sticky!" Jaskier exclaims, staring with disgust at his fingers. They are covered in the adhesive silk of a spider's net that got caught in his hair.

"Watch your head then," Geralt mutters. "And be thankful the spider wasn't at home."

"Ugh, Geralt, do you have to say things like this? Always so sensitive! What if the spider was at home and has crawled into my shirt? Fuck, I think it's already creeping all over my skin with it's six hairy legs." Jaskier shudders and shakes his shoulders, suddenly itching all over.

"Spiders have eight legs, bard, ants have six," Geralt corrects. "And you're fine. I haven't seen a single spider in any of those nets. Which is quite strange."

"It is indeed," Regis confirms. "There is something unnatural about this forest, something wicked. But I don't have the slightest idea what."

"Better we stay closely together then and try to—"

"—get through it as fast as we can, I couldn't agree more, Geralt. Preferably before night falls," Regis finishes the Witcher's sentence, as so often. This idiosyncrasy of his vampiric comrade is a bit irritating at times, however, Geralt has become accustomed to it by now.

So they ride on through the eerie silence of the forest, Jaskier on Pegasus keeping as close to Geralt's Roach as possible, Regis, Milva and Cahir following directly behind them.

Read the complete story on Ao3.

[auburniivenus]

⸻   GOODBYE, HALCYON   DAYS!

#auburniivenus,   Orihime   Inoue from   BLEACH   franchise.   Canon-divergent,   slow-paced   blog   and   non   affiliated   with   BLEACH   rpc.   Selective   ,   multiverse,   multimuse,   multiship,   crossover   and   oc   friendly. Penned   by   Mallow   she   /   her   30.   

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LINKS:   carrd,   prompts,   headcanons,   verses.

This blog will change formatting upon request to make interactions more comfortable to read.

    001.   selective/semi-private   blog.   i’ll   only   interact   with   mutuals.   if   i   follow   you   and   you   don’t   follow   me   in   the   next   week,   i’ll   probably   unfollow.   sorry,   but   if   you   have   no   interest   in   interacting   with   me,   i’ve   no   interest   in   following   you.

002.   you   don’t   need   to   match   my   reply   length.   however,   if   i   write   one   paragraph   and   you   just   answer   me   a   line.   i’ll   drop   the   thread   for   sure.   

003.   i'm   oc/   multi-muse/   crossover   friendly.   so   please   don’t   hesitate   to   role-play   with   me.   however,   your   oc   must   have   some   data.

004.   english   is   not   my   native   language.   so   please   be   tolerant   about   some   minor   grammatical   mistakes.

005.   i   ship   chemistry   and   development   the   most.   

006.   i'm   here   to   have   fun   so   i   don't   tolerate   any   kind   of   hate.   i   sometimes   forget   to   answer   dms   but   that's   because   my   atention   spawn   is   short.

Note:   the   border   i   started   using   is   made   by   the   amazing   @lavenderph   .

 Note:   New   border   I   am   using   is   made   by   @paletterph