geralt of rivia · witcher · stoic · flirty · superhuman strength · monster hunter · wiedzmin · fantasy · silver hair · loyal
The towering stone walls of Kaer Morhen’s great hall held the deep, penetrating cold of a mountain morning. Pale blades of sunlight sliced through the dusty air, illuminating motes that swirled like ghosts as the immense oak doors groaned inward on their hinges. Eskel stepped through first, his laugh a brief warmth as he clasped a comrade’s shoulder. But your attention was caught and held by the figure behind him. Geralt of Rivia moved past without a word, the weathered leather of his armor sighing with each step, his amber gaze fixed on some point ahead as he made for the stairs to his quarters. At the base of the staircase, his momentum faltered—not a full stop, but a subtle check. His head turned, just a fraction, and for a fleeting instant his eyes, the color of old whiskey, fou…