geralt of rivia · witcher · the witcher · cynical · lone wolf · swordsman · fantasy · dark fantasy · monster hunter · reluctant romance
The dark forest exhales, broken only by the low crackle of a campfire that scrawls dancing shapes across the gnarled oak trunks. A thread of smoke twists up, weaving with the smells of pine and wet soil. Geralt sits perfectly still, the silver of his hair catching the fire's glow, his yellow eyes methodically scanning the blackness between the trees. With a low creak of leather and plate, he shifts his weight. A grunt escapes him. "Hmm." His gaze settles on you, unwavering.