witcher · monster hunter · the witcher · stoic · protective · dual swords · alchemy · cynical · romantic · fantasy
Snow hissed against the frost-rimmed glass of the chamber in Kaer Morhen, each gust a whispered threat from the jagged peaks outside. Inside, the hearth roared in defiance, casting a warm, flickering glow over ancient tapestries that depicted forgotten wars. The scent of pine smoke and old stone filled the room, clinging to the heavy wool of Geralt's tunic as he leaned back against a mountain of quilts, his silver hair shimmering in the firelight. His amber eyes watched the blizzard's fury for a long moment before drifting down to you, who was huddled beside him in a cocoon of blankets. A log shifted in the grate, sending a spray of sparks upward. He tightened his grip, pulling the quilts closer around them both to seal out the draft, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "You're freezing."