(pls comment and vote)
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Azalea grunted in pain as her eyes finally peeled awake, but she was bound. Her wrists were bound to something, she couldn't move. She felt something press against both of her arms, her fingers slightly touching others.
"You've awoken." A sneer and a slap. Azalea's head snapped to the side and she let out a small grunt at the impact. She missed the slight growl of anger that emitted from her right. Azalea watched with fury as a boot was extended towards her at a high speed, connecting with her face and making her tilt it upwards. She coughed, spluttered a bit of blood and scowled once more.
"Don't you fucking touch her." Geralt spat and Azalea lowly chuckled, her head shaking side to side.
"Let it be, Ger." She said. The chill in her voice was enough for the White Wolf, and he kept his mouth shut but a scowl more than evident. When Azalea tore her scarlett slit eyes back to the Elves in front of her, a foot made its way to her face once again. But then Geralt was kicked and so was the bard. She began to get slowly more furious with their kidnappers.
"Oi, that's my lute. Give that back!" The bard was ever so loving towards his musical instrument that he didn't really care that one of the Witchers he was currently bound with had blood pouring from her nose whilst the other Witcher was having his share of brutal kicks dealt to his face. "Quick, Geralt!" He pleaded, "do your-your witchering-"
"Shut up!" Geralt growled out, shaking his head in dismay as he then tried to glance towards Azalea. He couldn't hear her breath over the bard's rambling, and how he longed to know if she hadn't simply been murdered. When the possibility and harrowing thought enterred his mind, he felt his chest tighten rather uncomfortably. Dread was all he could then feel as he lived every moment where he couldn't shared a sweet, tender, and long-over-due kiss...but now he couldn't.
"No-" Geralt groaned in pain as the female elf before him sent a harsh kick to his legs, forcing them apart and sending a shooting pain up his crotch all while seething a command at him in the Elder speech.
"Kick him again you writhin' red-head little bitch and i'll come back." Azalea's words were more than venomous, the blood that trickled down her chin only giving in to her threatening look and words. "I'll come back and slaughter you all!" She tried to lean forwards, spitting out the crimson, metallic tasing liquid. Her wrists burned however her hatred blazed with a far more powerful fury.
"Humans," the elf scowled furiously as she maneuvered herself to stand before Azalea with a small pocketed dagger in hand, "shut up!" Bending at the knees, the redheaded elf now stared into Azalea's glowing red slit eyes, her anger being more than prominant as the first female Witcher longed for death to befall the elven woman.
"That's a fuckin' insult to me and Geralt." She laughed lowly, her lips curled in disgust at the elf. "Choose your words kindly, elf." Just as the elf, with her own rage, quickly reached forwards with the dagger in attempt to slit Azalea's throat and drain her of all that kept her alive, the bard decided he had something to say. His words were mumbled, and yet they were in the speech the elf knew best of which only infuriated the rag-clothed woman more.
"Do you wanna die right now?" Her brusquely voice made Azalea roll her head and groan in exasperation.
"As opposed to later?" Geralt growled out, his voice deep and husky as he listened. He had heard Azalea speak only moments before, but her voice was gone as soon as it came and he found himself reaching out with his hand, trying to grasp hers for extra reassurance she was still alive. After all, he too had seen the dagger.
"No, please, not the lu-" a sharp kick was dealt to the bard's stomach, hitting the lute harshly.
"Leave off!" Geralt spoke up once more, glaring more harshly at the elf woman than he had to anyone ever before.
"He's a damn bard!" Azalea pointed out, but she was greeted with a harsh and head-snapping punch that had then been dealt to her head.
"You don't deserve the air you breathe!"
"And you think you do after this brazen display of kindness?" Her words were laced with sarcasm, a heavy and fat load of it, too. All Azalea received was another harsh punch. She couldn't help but yelp a little, her teeth biting her lip and her cheekbones already sore.
"Everything you touch, you destroy!" The elf exclaimed once more, but the laugh that left Azalea soon became haunting only signified the fact the female Witcher was getting more furious. If you thought Geralt had a bad temper, you should meet Azalea when someone's beaten her whilst she was tied up.
Oh, wait, that's what happening!
"And you're destroying my beautiful face, so who's better now?" Another punch was dealt to Azalea but it was accompanied by the sound of a lute being split over a knee with the strings twanging as they broke.
"You-you hide in your golden palaces!" The bard spoke with a small stammer, not too found of receiving the same blunt and bloody treatment that Azalea had been given. Whilst he spoke, however, Geralt found himself closing his eyes tightly and his hand squeezing Azalea's. The squeeze she gave back was weaker, as though she didn't have the strength to fight or do anything, but Geralt knew better. One thing he loved about Azalea was the fiery pit within her that ignited her soul and fury, fueling her movements and pushing her past her limits until the job was done or until she was forced to stop. "You beat a bound woman, too scared to even look her in the eye!"
"Oh, she looked me in the eyes alright." The grin was cold and shallow, and her gaze was daring. It dared the elf to continue beating her for as long as she could because Azalea wouldn't hold back once she was free.
"Do you like my palace?" The elf questioned, glaring down at the three that were bound. "Hmm?" Azalea watched the elf walk and crouch in front of Geralt, grasping his chin and tilting his head upwards. She felt a pinch within her chest and she felt her nostrils flare with anger and perhaps there was a hint of jealousy, but Azalea would deny it. "Does it live up to the tales you humans tell?"
Geralt, his lips curled in a snarl, was quick in leaning his head back before pushing it forwards quickly. With a grunt, his forehead connected with the elf's nose and caused her to gasp and grunt as she stumbled backwards, grasping for her nose. The bard began to laugh rather obnoxiously, and yet Azalea found herself joining in with the laughter.
"Ha ha! Yeah, take that, pointy!" Azalea watched, her gaze intent and enjoying the sight of the elf coughing and groaning on the dusty floor of the cave they were inside of. "Wait, what's-what's wrong with her?"
"She's sick." A new voice seethed harshly. Azalea's attention became glued to a white-haired, pointy-eared elf that had sauntered into the cave, a snarl of his own on his face.
"Oh...who's this?"
"He's Filavandrel," the bard's question was answered by Torque - the sylvan - as he saunted in behind the new elf. "King of the Elves."
"Not a king." Filavandrel said harshly as Torque knelt in front of the female elf as she continued to wheeze in pain. "Not by choice."
"So that bitch can hit us without a care yet we hit back and it's like she's piece of fragile fuckin' pottery." Azalea scoffed and shook her head, however she groaned in pain at the pounding within her mind. It became unrelenting.
"Azi?" Geralt's voice was entwined with concern and panic. He couldn't fully see Azalea, and so he couldn't see how bad her new injuries were. He felt his heartbeat quicken the more afraid he became. What if something was now wrong with Azalea?
"Fine." She grunted out before sucking in a deep breath. "Totally fine."
"You were stealing from them." Geralt then said, his mind at ease with Azalea's words of confirmation.
"I felt for them." Torque answered, looking towards the white haired Witcher as though the man were mad. "They were forced out of Dol Blathanna."
"Forced out?" The bard questioned with dark furrowed brows as he did his best to look at the two elves. "No, they chose-"
"Do you know anyone that would choose to leave their home? To starve?" Filavandrel hissed out, stopping his aid with the female elf so that he could glower at the bard. "To have a Sylvan steal for them?"
"I'm sure i could name a few." Azalea glared, her hatred bubbling. Filavandrel looked towards Azalea for a moment, his eyes becoming softer as - by her appearance: her bloodied and bruised face - he could tell she had been given the worst attention.
"Toruviel," Torque began with a scorning tone, "no one was supposed to get hurt."
"What's three humans in the ground when countless elves have died?" Toruviel scoffed, her head shaking as she didn't seem to grasp the "importance" the two Witchers and the bard had. It was little to none, and yet at least the Witchers had helped more people in the continent than the elves ever had.
"One human." Geralt seethed, hating the fact that he - and Azalea - were they underwent mutations that stripped them of the shit that kept them human. "And you can let him go."
"Then Posada will learn that we've been stealing." Filavandrel said, pointing out what would happen if they were to simply allow the bard to go free. "The humans will attack." Azalea looked into his eyes, a striking blue, and she glared harshly. "Many will die...on both sides."
"Couldn't give a toss-"
"The lesser evil." Geralt spoke over Azalea, squeezing her hand tightly in a warning before he stared up at the "Elf King" with a hatred of his own. "No matter what you choose, you'll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me."
"That's the problem." FIlavandrel crouched down to be eye level with Geralt, staring at the Witcher with a peculiar look within his eyes. "I can't. This is necessary." His last few words were whispered as he reached for something none could see.
"I understand." Geralt said, a pause left between his next words. "As long as you understand...that it won't be long before you follow me in death." Geralt could feel the anger that emitted from Azalea, and he knew she'd do all that she could to release her anger and avenge him if he were to die by the elves hand.
"Yes, because they pushed us from viable soil. Even chaos is polluted." Azalea felt her anger simmer down and instead she felt a bout of sadness. Not for the elves, but just because the fiery atmosphere had become dulled down and she now slouched against the arms of Geralt and the bard. "Synthetically enhanced so humans can make magic."
"Chaos is the same as it's always been." Geralt tried his best to argue. His golden eyes flares with desperation, hoping that Filavandrel would heed and listen, but when had Geralt ever been so lucky? "Humans just adapted better."
"You say adapt, and i say destroy."
"You are choosing the starve." Geralt continued to argue. "You're cutting off your ear to spite your face."
"Told ya i could name a couple." Azalea mumbled to the bard, of whom sighed and tried to glance at her. He caught a glimpse of the scar on the side of her face, and he wondered how she received it.
"You think this is about pride!?" Filavandrel's fury soon became a blazing fire as he spat out the words he spoke. "My elders worked with humans and got robbed of all they had. And when they fought back? They were slaughtered. The Great Cleansing, humans call it. I called it digging a mass grave for everyone i loved. And now the humans proudly watch these very fields grow...our babies fertilizer for their grain."
Azalea now felt sad for the elves. To suffer such a fate was not a desired one by anyone and she could understand their anger towards the humans. But she and Geralt were not a part of the human race, not anymore.
"I don't wish to bury anyone else." Filavandrel then continued, tears brimming his ocean eyes as he stared at Geralt. I was once Filavandrel of the Silver Towers. "Now...i'm Filavandrel of the Edge of the World. If i bring my people down from these mountains, it would mean bowing to human sovereignty. They'll make slaves of us."
"They do that a lot." Azalea mumbled to herself, but she was hating the one sided conversation Filavandrel was having.
"Pariahs of half-blood children."
"Then go somewhere else!" Geralt begged of them, trying to convince them that there was a better way for both sides. "Rebuild. Get strong again. Show the humans that you are more than what they fear you to be."
"Like you and her, Witcher?"
"I-We have learned to live with them." Geralt continued to argue. "So that i may live, and so that i can ensure she lives." A scuffle to the side gained Azalea's attention, and she soon glowered again as she witnessed Toruviel standing to her feet hastily.
"Please, my King." The redheaded elf begged, "there are others. A new generation. Evellien who wish to fight!" She took a couple deep breaths to compose herself once more. "Let us take back what's ours. Starting now."
"Uh-uh." Azalea shook her head and brought one knee towards her chest. She will writhe and kick with all the power she had left inside of her to keep Toruviel from hurting Geralt once more. But the unsheathing of a dagger made Azalea frown and snap her head towards Filavandrel the best she could.
"Wait!" Torque begged, rushing forwards and grasping onto the white haired elf's arm.
"Torque, stand aside!"
"The Witcher could've killed me." Torque continued to speak after being harshly shoved off by Filavandrel. "I had hurt what was his, after all." Azalea wanted to scrunch her nose up at Torque's misunderstanding of her relationship with Geralt, but she found herself liking the ring it had as she imagined it more. Who wouldn't want to be with Geralt? "But he didn't. He's different. Like us." The King of Elves shoved Torque further away, silently staring into Geralt's golden eyes as they stared at him back.
"If you must kill me..."
"Ger." Azalea said sharply, her tone was suggesting he didn't finish what he was saying, but Geralt did continue.
"I am ready." A pause. A long, uncomfortable one - for Azalea at least. "But the Sylvan's right. Don't call me or her human."
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a/n
heyyy how was the chapter? x