Not Unwelcoming

Geralt felt nothing except regret. In his final moments, he felt no despair, no relief, no anger, no grief, just regret.

Ciri, I’m sorry I couldn’t find you, I’m sorry I can’t save you. Ciri, I’m sorry.

The Butcher of Blaviken, the White Wolf dead from a griffin attack. However, it wasn’t the griffin who dealt the killing blow, it was the ones who posted the notice. A trick to kill two birds with one stone. Before he took the contract, there was nothing unusual about it, nothing that triggered a memory. The man who posted the notice was a weak, crippled farmer so he doubts he could do anything harmful to Geralt. He probably acted as a puppet from someone stronger.

The griffin was unusually strong, the kind of strength that came from external aid. The surroundings weren’t suspicious but halfway through the fight, a group of men came out to block all possible exits before throwing a bomb near him. The bomb didn’t harm the griffin at all, only him. They ran before he could take a good look at their faces.

His expectations of humanity weren’t high and he knew well that being a witcher meant a foot already buried in the grave. However, facing it was different perhaps because he had now someone to fight for. Ciri.

Yet, here he was now lying against a bloody rock with a leg torn apart, a dead griffin beside him, and with the knowledge that he was dying in Velen of all places.

“Excuse me sir…sir…oh! Oh! Oh, Merlin”

Forcing the final fight within him, he glanced right at the source of the voice to discover a woman with short wavy blood red hair. Her aura screamed sorceress from her eccentric outfit to the subtle magical current around her.

Whether this was a hallucination, a wandering sorceress, or a woman hired to check if he was already a corpse. Geralt was willing to gamble his luck. It was either gamble or die, and for Ciri he was willing to take the risks.

“Heal…h-cough,” Geralt choked, tears welling out from the sharp pain in his throat when he spoke.

The woman jumped and hurriedly kneeled beside him, chanting panicked mutterings of ‘Don’t die, don’t die, oh no, oh god, don’t die, merlin’

Fuck

He was probably wrong, not a sorceress, and even if she was, it was too late. His vision began to darken and he knew he was mere seconds from death. Geralt relaxed his muscles against the hard rock wanting to be his final thoughts to be about Ciri.

“Are you dead?”

Furrowing his brows, Geralt groaned at the sound of her voice. It wasn’t unpleasant but it was clear, too clear. He turned his head to give his final sarcastic remark but stopped when he noticed how different her eyes were. They looked alive, doused with light, and inhabited by the stars. He was by no means a poet like Dandelion, nor has dreams to attempt to be one but saying anything less seemed inaccurate.

Maybe when you're about to die you somehow become poetic? Or maybe it's because he was about to kick the bucket that he finally found ordinary things beautiful

And as seconds ticked by, her eyes seemed to brighten, not just her eyes but everything around her.

“Mister?”

Geralt took a sharp breath, finally noticing the changes within him. His senses save for his touch were coming back, becoming clearer by the second. The surroundings coming back in full sound and color was relieving and yet insulting to his senses. He closed his eyes from the overwhelming feeling.

His sense of touch came last and all at once, he felt warm and odd, like a thousand worms moving outside and inside of his body, particularly around his open wounds. The tingling sensation was uncomfortable but the warmth was soothing. The contradiction led him to thrash around.

“Hey, it’s okay…shh…relax, ease, I’m here, I’ll soothe the pain”

The odd sensation lessened. Geralt opened his eyes slightly to look at his body and to his surprise, half of his wounds were gone. The remaining ones were closing up on their own, the torn skin stitching up by itself. He whipped his head to look at the girl and noticed she was crying, her palms covering his remaining hand, and her voice silent. She wasn’t chanting any spells or doing gestures, and yet she was healing him in a way he had never seen before.

Either she has paid a high price to heal him or she has abilities beyond what he knew was possible.

The sorceress let go of his hand. She moved forward and reached for his torn right leg, positioning it to where it was supposed to be and Geralt watched in morbid fascination as the cut veins and skin began to move, extending itself to reattach the limb. He gritted his teeth in preparation for whatever feeling that would bring but noticed, it didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. It felt like a wet hand touching an open wound. 

Geralt cautiously touched his newly reattached limb and was surprised to notice that he could feel them, move them.

“How do you feel?”

Not just any sorceress then, a powerful one.

“How did…how much”

The woman blinked and bit her lip, Geralt noticed that she has stopped crying, “Your eyes are gold, are they naturally like that?”

Sort of, “Yes”

“They’re really pretty and yes…no…no, no need to pay just help me find some places”

…pretty? That was a first.

She was lost, or so that was what she said to Geralt. Fell into a portal while going on an adventure. He wasn’t an easily trusting person but he wasn’t the one to pry either so he nodded, head still swirling of the healing she had done.

He wanted to ask but she looked too lost. Too lost that after he told her where they were, she began stammering a thank you, her face painted in shock. She helplessly started walking towards the nearby forest and nearly touched some poisonous shrubs.

“That’s poisonous”

She jumped up and fortunately pulled her hand back, looking back at Geralt with a reddened face, “Thank you, that was a mistake, sorry”

She walked again, this time towards the drowned-infested swamp. Thumbs twiddling and head down, two actions that would lead her to a disadvantage if drowners pounced on her. Idiot.

“You’re heading to a swamp filled with dangerous drowners”

She stopped walking and attempted to step back but tripped over a branch. Coughing, she stood up, her back facing Geralt and voice shaky, “Yes, sorry, thank you, do you know where the local civilization is?”

Geralt smirked, for a powerful sorceress, she was airheaded but if her story was true then he could understand why she was blindly stepping into risky areas.

“Follow me”

He didn’t know what hit him or what led him to say that or to let her tag along instead of giving her clear directions on where to go. Geralt reasoned with himself that for the healing she did, a cheap price of answering where they were didn’t feel justified at all, and if she was telling the truth then he’d feel awful to let her go towards her own death after she just prevented his.

He also did not know what hit him to go the exact opposite of Oxenfurt or Novigrad, the big cities where she could be safe since she didn’t look like the one to farm or take care of animals. He guesses that she lived in the ease of luxury if he were to take her carefully sewn clothes that looked soft to the touch, light, and customized well towards her proportions. Peasants had no access, time, or money to have clothes like these.

He truly did not know why instead of securing her safety in a city, he took her to Heatherton to find the Nilfgaardian spy that could lead him to Ciri.

It's because she's not from here, Geralt's final reasoning told him. Even, if he didn't fully believe that as he never fully believes anything unless he's witnessed it, he'll take her word for it.

“Geralt, look, there are houses but it’s so quiet”

The only thing Geralt knew and fully believe was that he would keep her safe, for now. Contrary to the confusion and wariness around her after witnessing her abilities he merely felt oddly annoyed, not at her but at himself for some unknown reason.

Perhaps there was awe too, but as much as he’d want to ask how she’d done it he felt like he would be too nosy, especially with her look of constant confusion and wonder of Velen, this nasty swamp of a place.

Heatherton was a mess. Houses were ransacked and windows were broken. He could spot a corpse hanging off one of the windows, the head gone. Rabid dogs were going around and Geralt did a quick work of them.

The sorceress, who went by Calla, was frightened. She vomited after seeing the corpse and Geralt felt ashamed of himself for bringing her here. However, she was quick to adapt and proved to be good at defense, creating an impenetrable dome shield around her. It was good bait, the rabid dogs circled around her and Geralt had an easier time killing them.

This wasn’t her first time seeing corpses, no one would be this quick to adapt. She did mention she was a part of some war in her former world. She looked fine, albeit a little pale but she had this face of resignment. Her eyes steeled and watered, lips red from biting them strongly. Must’ve also been some gruesome war then.

“I’m sorry, it’s just a sudden huge shock, one war to another especially when I just found…peace, or something like that,” She said, giving a weak smile.

“Peace?”

“Yeah, something like it or I don’t know, depends on your definition of it. Sorry, my mind is jumbled, a jumbled mess, really, maybe from shock”

He didn’t know what to say to that, peace was a strange concept that Geralt, if he didn’t think about it deeply, would say that he knew what that is but now, the word peace seems to be a foreign word now, or at least a word he could not understand thoroughly.

A man came out from one of the houses, thanking the pair for killing those rabid dogs. He told them the Wild Hunt came to pay Hendrik a visit, ransacking the place while they were at it. He was the only one left alive. 

They went off the find Hendrik’s house and Calla finally spoke in a hushed tone, “Wild Hunt, what is that?”

He explained and she looked paler, sick. Geralt whistled for Roach and took off a clean white wolf hide to drape on her shoulders.

“Here, looks like the wild hunt let some chill in the air, wear this or cover yourself with it, might let you feel better, might”

“Thank you, Geralt,” She walked closer to her and he noticed some color slowly coming back to her cheeks. Not enough, but at least enough to let him know she's still alive.

He'll entertain this slight guilty feeling toward her later

They found Hendrik’s house and Geralt looked at the door before turning around to Calla who was wrapping herself with the wolf hide tightly, “Calla, stay here, I’ll be back quick”

Her brows furrowed and lips pursed, eyes stealing short glances around her, “No…if it’s okay, I’ll go with you, I told you, I’ve seen war before”

Geralt nodded

The pair went inside and found the rotten corpse of who Geralt assumes to be Hendrik. True to Calla’s word, she didn’t scream upon seeing Hendrik’s corpse but she did close her eyes shut, unmoving. 

Geralt did a quick check of the corpse to find a key and used his senses to inspect the surroundings. He found a hidden hatch under a rug. The key worked and the hatch was open.

Calla kneeled beside him and looked down on the grim cellar and Geralt could hear her sharp intake of breath but before he could say anything, Calla turned her head towards him but eyes on the floor.

“I’ll go with you”

Stubborn, “Fine, but I know there’s something else you want to say, lay it out”

She regarded him warily, “Sorry, I’m still getting used to this new world but it’s…the cellar is dark and grim”

“Yeah, I assume Hendrik’s not a fan of secret underground tea parties”

“I’ll go with you”

Geralt truly wasn’t one to pry, but she wore her emotions on her sleeves which made him uncomfortable, she was about to rip her lips in half and he could see the quick shallow breaths she was taking, she was afraid he gets that but she also had something important to say, and coupled with the guilt of bringing her here, he had to ask “You’re biting your lip, anything else to say?”

“Hey, can I create a tiny circle light to illuminate the area? In case, there’s a hidden trap?” Her face reddened and Geralt was confused, do people blush when they’re afraid? He doesn’t think so but people do respond to fear differently. No…her cheeks are turning pale again. What’s going on in her mind?

“...Go ahead and next time, don’t ask for permission, just do what you think is right”

“Noted but I’ll still ask from time to time”

Geralt threw her a look.

Calla smiled sheepishly, “In case, you know…I accidentally make the enemy powerful because it absorbs light. Maybe?”

“Well, wouldn’t that be a good learning experience?”

“Right sure, so we can discuss that newfound knowledge in the afterlife…ah, sorry” Calla ducked her head down, rubbing her hands before creating a little orb that emitted gentle light. Again, without chanting a spell or doing some gestures.

“If you’re sorry about the sarcasm, don’t, my dry sarcasm might feel lonely” Geralt cracked a small smile at her.

The light orb began to move and floated down, it divided into three and the other two illuminated the other areas. Geralt climbed down followed by Calla. The area was dull and boring, nothing of note until they found a secret level that opened a hidden door where they found a ledger noting Hendrik’s observations.

According to the ledger, a woman with ashen hair and a scar on her face–Ciri–was in Velen. She met with someone called the ‘Blood Baron’ and clashed with a witch near Midscope.

Bloody Baron’s the next destination then.

“Excuse me, Geralt? Do you think the next town we go to might be safe for me to stay in?”

Fuck, he forgot to tell her.

“No clue honestly, and truth be told I don’t think you could survive in the towns here unless you know how to farm, butcher some meat, be the local herbalist, or something on those notes and are ready to give up whatever easy lifestyle you were used to”

“...then, why are we here,” Her voice sounded so small.

“Had some business here, listen, I’m sorry, I didn’t know what hit me to take you here but the nearest cities are far from here, you’d be dead before you reach there and I had really something important to do here and”

She frowned, “I’m strong just unfamiliar”

“Exactly, you’re new to this world, you know nothing about this world, and you don’t know which harmless-looking ones are dangerous”

She became silent, her hands fisting the lower hems of her shirt, her heels digging into the ground.

Great, now he feels more like an ass, "I'm sorry, that came too harsh"

“Then…what do you suggest?”

“I’ll have to go to these big cities soon, real soon, and I can take you to a friend of mine there for you to get acquainted with the area but I need to do some business here first,  either I can give you the directions for you to go there alone there or come with me to finish whatever I have to do here and then we’ll go”

“I’ll go with you”

“Good choice and listen, if ever a fight breaks out just do the thing you did, create some shield, and stay there, don’t get out, monsters here will be foreign to you so observe”

She nodded, quirking a nervous slight smile, “So I’m your temporary companion now? Where to go next then?”

“Someone named the bloody baron in Crow Perch”

“Bloody Baron? That sounds…dramatic,” She said, laughing nervously. If Geralt didn’t see her abilities beforehand, he might assume she’s some weak skittish daughter of some wealthy noble.

“You know, you act like I’m going to snap your neck with one wrong move”

He was met with silence.