Make Me Feel Again ♕ Geralt Of Rivia

fifteen .

E L E A N O R A

"What did you do this time?" I mutter, eyeing the four soldiers that surrounded us as we were escorted out of Temeria.

Geralt's head whips around and he scowls right at me, "Me? What makes you think I did anything?"

"Why else would we be getting thrown out?"

If Geralt had the habit of rolling his eyes, he definitely would have. Instead, he shoots me an exasperated look that makes me feel heaps better since my run-in with the Ker.

I swallow back a laugh at his face as he grumbles, "I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

Though he's all glares and broodiness, I hear the relief in his voice that makes me reach out to him and link my arm through his.

I raise a brow at him, "So, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," He says, "They just didn't want my help. Allegedly, another Witcher ran off with their money."

I frown at this new piece of information, "Do you believe them?"

"The Vudkodlak is still alive, isn't it?"

"What if-", I pause abruptly, noticing as the soldiers that crowded us started to sag over on their horses.

"Gor..." I jerk my chin at them and he immediately pushes me back.

"Stay behind me." He instructs, pulling his sword.

"Witcher," A whisper carries through the wind, sending a shiver down my spine.

Geralt spins around, guiding me with a hand around my waist.

"You can put down your sword. I'm not here to hurt you." The stranger in a long cloak claims as she moves closer to us.

Gor pulls me close to him not lowering his weapon, "Says the witch hiding in the woods."

"Sorceress."

"Witch," Geralt shoots back.

The sorceress pulls back her hood, revealing a head of dark, curly hair and sharp features.

"Triss Merigold. I serve King Foltest." She introduces herself.

Finally, Geralt drops his sword, but still holds it firmly at his side. He straightens out, keeping a hand behind his back which clutches tightly onto mine.

"So he makes a show of kicking me out...then sends an errand girl to slip me some coin so I kill his monster." He states, sounding less than impressed. "Not a very original plan for a king."

"It's my plan. My coin." Triss replies, "And I don't want you to kill the beast. I want you to save it."

☽

I study the variety of different bottles and vials, tempted you reach out and touch one (though, I'm not sure how good of an idea that was) as Triss leads us deeper into the room that resembled a evil lair more than I was comfortable with.

"Six years ago, stable hands started vanishing at the castle above the city. Before long, citizens were disappearing throughout all Temeria." Triss explains, "Foltest's royal guards soon realised the creature was coming from the crypt where the king's sister, Adda, is buried. Rumour has it she was having an affair with a young man in town when she died."

"Was she pregnant?" Geralt questions.

"If she were, that would make her the child sole heir to the throne as Foltest never married. The king fled the castle ignoring the rising death toll." She continues, "After Nilfgaard overthrew their king, the Brotherhood couldn't risk it happening again, so they sent me here three months ago to cute the creature."

"Vukodlaks are freak mutations." Gor states, "They can't be cured."

"Well, good thing it's not a Vukodlak."

"It's not?" I ask, exchanging a look with Geralt before turning my gaze to Triss. "What is it, then?"

"This way," Triss doesn't grant me the satisfaction of an answer. Turning on her heels, Triss leads us out the door and down a long hallway lined with candles.

The smell of death assaults my nostrils as we entered yet another room, this one filled with coffins in which decaying corpses laid in salt- I assume to preserve them.

"Two thousand orens if you can tell me what exactly killed these people." She declares, guiding us deeper into the room.

I pause at the door, not sure I could stomach the stench if I wandered further, whereas Geralt strides in confidently, studying the bodies.

Though my stomach churns at the unpleasant smell, my skin prickles and my nerves buzz at the sensation of being surrounded by death. I shake off the odd reaction, focusing on the matter at hand and watch as Geralt approaches the crate in the centre.

The poor man who occupied it looked like he died a more gruesome death than the rest of them.

Gor then reaches down for a familiar looking medallion that hang from a chain around the man's neck- an identical one to the one of Gor's that I'm all too familiar with. He tugs it off, staring at it with an expression that may be unreadable to most, but I see the underlying disapproval in his gaze.

"You didn't want the people to know it bested a Witcher," His voice comes out strained, "You let them believe that he fled with their coin."

He tucks the medallion into his belt, reaching down into the sea of salt and digging his arms into the hollow cavity in the man's chest.

"You two clearly weren't acquainted," Triss comments.

Geralt ignores her, continuing his search for whatever he might have been looking for.

"His heart's missing along with his liver," Gor observes, "Only one creature I know is that picky a eater."

"A Striga," I finish his thought and Geralt grunts in agreement.

I remember that one night where he'd told me all about the monsters he has yet to encounter while I laid on his chest- the cursed organ-munching creature being one of them. I guess soon, that'll be one more off the list.

"Strigas are old wives' tales."

"They're very rare." Geralt answers, "The only way to make one is through a curse."

"Someone wanted Adda dead."

"But the curse didn't stop with Adda. It turned her daughter into a monster."

"Her daughter?" Triss queries.

"Strigas are female." Geralt lets out a troubled sigh, "This Striga's a Princess."