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[gynvael]

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Geralt is always reachable by the network. Unless it's an emergency, expect not to hear back for a few hours, if not a few days.

To talk to him in person, you'll need to be in Cadens or go to his domain, a snowy mountain fortress. Yard is open; doors are locked. If he isn't around, leave a delivery with the white wolf.

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[gynvael]

[ His eyebrow cocks, which is the only comment required. Lucifer is as good as any. One can't rely on magic in all circumstances. ]

You must be the only mage who gives a shit what a Witcher thinks.

[ It's less that Geralt had not meant to offend, and more that he assumed Istredd could not have cared less about what he said. Though now that he's come to know Istredd better, it no longer surprises him this was so. Mages can be terribly sensitive. He supposes that must be true twice over for one who was guided by Stregabor, of all people.

He is not sorry about the loss of the Brotherhood. Only the price its end extracted. He's glad both Yennefer and Istredd are free of its machinations. Not, of course, that he's so naïve as to believe others will not rise in its place—to fill that empty seat.

Still. Those pieces belong to another board. One they may never play again.

His expression grows contemplative. He tilts his head. They have migrated, he thinks, a little beyond an alliance of convenience. He doesn't say it. ] You would know if it did not.

[ He has little patience for subterfuge or niceties—as Istredd well knows. ]

[magicalarchaeologist]

The Brotherhood only cares about the Brotherhood. Cared, I mean.

[He pauses and there is a pang of pain that hasn't entirely gone away yet. The Brotherhood had it coming, one way or another, and he thinks that ultimately they were a corrupt organization that should have crumbled. They're still people to him though, people he grew up with, a group that would have him any time he needed to feel wanted.

Whatever organization Yennefer is making with the witches, it'll be better than that. So that way of thinking is for certain dead along with Stregobor and the others.]

Yennefer's much harder to win over than I am, Geralt. I give a shit.

[ Istredd's rant about 'Mr. I Communicate In A Series of Grunts But Somehow Everyone Loves Me' is particularly amusing considering he at least feels some fondness for the witcher. He craves his respect, something he's disgruntled about, but it's the truth. Perhaps it's the playing hard to get aspect, that he has to work for a glimmer of appreciation. Either way, it's out there now.

Istredd finds he doesn't mind as much as he thought he would. He smiles. ]

Who knows, maybe we could be friends, if you'd lower yourself to being one with a mage.

🎀

[gynvael]

[ His lips quirk. Is she? He supposes most do try to win her over, but for Geralt, it was...different. They were swept up in each other from the start, and equally distant at the same time. If it was not Yennefer pushing him away, then he was the one keeping her at arm's length.

Only recently have things felt steadier. Less fraught. He remains uncertain where they stand, what he wants—what she wants—but he no longer feels the burning need to empty too much of himself into her. It's...calm. Calmer. And he knows no matter what, she will be there for Ciri. There is some relief in not having that be a constant doubt. ]

A mage would mistake caution for superiority. [ The remark is not as biting as it sounds—a lightness to his tone. And it isn't a no, either. He has found his allies in mages before. Just...not many of them. But then, he hasn't many allies in general. Not ones he trusts wholly.

Geralt finishes his drink. Their business has concluded. He won't be long in Nocwich when he has to ride out at dawn. He rises from the table, stepping towards the exit. ] The length suits you. Keep it.

[ A rush of icy wind blasts through the door. Then it swings shut behind him. ]