WOLVES WITHOUT TEETH ( geralt of rivia.. )

001. absence of light..

What is it that happens to this land in winter so dark that all vile creatures resurface, multiply and grow in power, against all odds of nature and humanity? Perhaps it is the days, for they grow shorter and the bright warmth of a giant star only graces the soils and the roots with few moments, too little, even if too, kind.

It is in the absence of light that shadows thrive.

Where there is shadow comes the primary instinct of secrecy, of masks and concealment, that every wicked thought won't be discovered and, falsely, all actions won't be measured back in a fitted reward or punishment. That's how snows get tampered with the scarlet stains, how the roads get lonelier and courteous ever light still fades.

Yellow is a color that signifies many things; from gold and royalty to happiness and purity, it can descend, the very same tone, to other realms, from danger and predator to sickness and despair. Every single one of those hues remained trapped inside Azaras' absent gaze. Behind her neck, a breeze was trying to pull her away from all actions she took part in ghostly since Jaskier's return. In front of her laid bare a mess of a writing she did not like the meaning of.

Sylvain had self-proclaimed king of Arcapan. Nilfgaard is controlling him through a mage who uses death for power. People are dying so the king may walk again.

The hardest part about having read that, having heard the plea of help from someone who shouldn't have suffered in a place that used to be so peaceful, was reminding herself this was not something she could separate herself from. Everything was too personal to Azaras this time. It wasn't just another monster or threat, it was her brother, her own blood, at the center of it all.

And that was prone to clouding all her newest instincts, such that even her slowed heartbeat, a calming presence to be held by a Witcher, shivered uncomfortably, surrounded by turmoil. A boiling pot, that's what she was when Lambert became added heat.

"If the brat wants to side with monster and threaten us in the process of fucking up this whole mage life bullshit, I say we drive a spear through that crowned head and be done with it!"

After hours of debate in which she spaced out from shock, hearing those words were like an itch over an old wound, taking off the healing coat and baring out pain once more. 

Azaras smashed her fists on the table. Yellow became madness while she glared through the silence at Lambert, someone quite fond of oscillating to her between lists of acquaintances and death. "Sylvain may have started on a wrong path, heck, he may have even become a tyrant too in my absence for all I know, but he's still my brother!" In a single breath, she fired away her shouts, then descended her tone into a locked jaw and a growling threat, "Don't ever talk about him like that in front of me."

Sticking around to see the disappointment in the eyes of the Witcher was not in her prospect. Everyone knew Witchers had to be impartial, neutral outsiders to a game played on the board they simply had to clean of shadows. They danced sometimes with people, their hands caressed and Azaras has been once one of those pawns a Witcher twirled for just a few nights, before he left again. Now, she was to be that hunter too, only her handshake with Sylvain never released.

Azaras left the table and hitched a hinged breath she disappeared from a room that waited in silence. Lambert found himself sighing, just with a drop of sadness dispersing into the disappointment, evergreen. "Tsk," he shook his head towards his lifelong friends, unwanted children all of them given or forced upon the purpose of a Witcher. "She's going to be a liability handling this one."

"Handling what?" Geralt retorted the coldness with trained and learnt bluntness of figure. He did not have to show it though for any of them to know, he too had a strain of liability stuck to him. Eskel especially has smelt it from the start, that their white haired brother took a very final vow. "We don't know anything concrete," Geralt continued.