[Maybe this time, he is finally dying, for real. It had been a little touch and go for a while. Fever dreams and the like. A carousel of familiar faces stooping down next to him, talking to him, chiding him, holding him. Despite the searing pain in his leg, the feeling of his body burning up, the taste of ashes on his tongue as windblown smoke stings his eyes, it was nice. A brief respite. A moment of peace. Until it wasn't.
Until they're all gone and he's alone, again, in the forest he mistakes for the trees. He staggers forward, uncertain. Is he still hallucinating? The bark feels real beneath his palm, but the edges of his vision are still blurred by the encroaching, all-encompassing, wily tendrils of fog, and he's struggling to keep his failing all-seeing eyes open.
He doesn't see anyone else until a woman walks straight through him. She slips through his fingers and before he can utter a single word, she is swallowed by the mists. Perhaps there are some natural conclusions to be drawn about what is happening here, about the nature of his dream-like reality, if one or both of them are dead. He doesn't get time to dwell on the subject before the voice of a human cuts through the eerie silence.]
Wait. [Geralt limps forward, joining the trees like a crayon line drawn through the dots, shaky and unsteady ambling until he approaches the other man. Looks human. Can't-- quite smell him, like before. That's still a high chance of getting stabbed, but it's better than an absolute certainty of getting lunged at and mauled; he'll take his chances. The forest floor is starting to tilt, and he almost loses his footing, but a stumbling to catch himself stirs up a few crunchy leaves and he manages to stay upright, fingers digging into old bark as he steadies himself.]
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Until they're all gone and he's alone, again, in the forest he mistakes for the trees. He staggers forward, uncertain. Is he still hallucinating? The bark feels real beneath his palm, but the edges of his vision are still blurred by the encroaching, all-encompassing, wily tendrils of fog, and he's struggling to keep his failing all-seeing eyes open.
He doesn't see anyone else until a woman walks straight through him. She slips through his fingers and before he can utter a single word, she is swallowed by the mists. Perhaps there are some natural conclusions to be drawn about what is happening here, about the nature of his dream-like reality, if one or both of them are dead. He doesn't get time to dwell on the subject before the voice of a human cuts through the eerie silence.]
Wait. [Geralt limps forward, joining the trees like a crayon line drawn through the dots, shaky and unsteady ambling until he approaches the other man. Looks human. Can't-- quite smell him, like before. That's still a high chance of getting stabbed, but it's better than an absolute certainty of getting lunged at and mauled; he'll take his chances. The forest floor is starting to tilt, and he almost loses his footing, but a stumbling to catch himself stirs up a few crunchy leaves and he manages to stay upright, fingers digging into old bark as he steadies himself.]
Have-- Have you seen the merchant?