HEART | Geralt

05

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Azalea could almost feet her heart drop, chest pounding as the name seemed to have rung a bell in her mind. A flash of uneven short brunette hair, eyes that were pleading and also cruel.

"He is your destiny, as is the girl." The whisper was harsh and only apparent when Azalea closed her eyes and she looked around almost frantically. She looked to Geralt first, wondering if he had heard the whisper, but he seemed as unfazed as when he had walked into the tower after her.

Blinking slowly, she came to realise Geralt had been slowly tugging her along, giving her worried glances. When she realised this, she tried to give him a small smile, but alas, Azalea's attempt was nothing short of a crooked, wry grin that could only hope to work as a broken mask. 

The Witchers walked worldessly behind Stregobor, one with an intimidating gaze worth enough to make anyone's bones shake with fear whilst the other was dazed. A world trapped behind the scarlett eyes, and yet the scar that ran its course down the side of her face aided to make her seem like an actual Witcher and not just someone trying to make some coin.

They didn't walk for long before Stregobor had pulled them to a stop, gripping onto a ruby red apple in his hand.

"Destiny has many faces, Witchers." He told them, as though he still hoped to sway them onto his side, but Azalea had her mind made up the moment she stepped into the tower. Her eyes subconsciously flickered to the revealing silk dress she wore and she scowled at it before fixing her facial expression to a blank one, only to stare at Stregobor. "Mine, for example, is beautiful on the outside, but...hideous on the inside."

"Well, you don't need to worry." Azalea spat with a fake smile plastered on her fair face. "You're ugly both ways." Stregobor didn't even spare a glance towards her, his focus on Geralt. He knew that Azalea could not be swayed, but could the more intimidating Witcher be?

"She has stretched her bloody talons towards me." He further explained, and upon realising Stregobor wouldn't retaliate to her words, she decided to stare at the apple he still held in the air.

"Wizards are all the same." Geralt spoke at last, his deep and gravel-like voice sending ripples down Azalea's back. She grimaced at the realisation of something else happening, some weird form of difference. "You talk nonsense while making wise and meaningful faces." A moment, a second, of blissful silence where Azalea watched a naked woman walk, her discomfort rising. She'd rather be covered in monster guts than stood there, besides her long-time best friend and the weirdo. "Speak normally."

The apple faded to nothing in Stregobor's grip as he lowered his hand, eyes creased slightly as he looked at Geralt.

"Have you ever heard of the...Curse of the Black Sun?" Azalea slowly looked towards Stregobor with confusion, wondering on how this old tale came to be. "First full eclipse in twelve-hundred-years. It marked the imminent return of Lilit, demon goddess of the night sent to exterminate the human race. According to the wise mage Eltibald, Lilit's path was to be prepared by sixty women wearing gold crowns who'd fill the river valleys with blood." Azalea shuddered a little, a cold air seemingly brushing over her but all it did was make her breasts a little more out in the open for a second or two, of which was the only time she noticed Stregobor look away from Geralt.

"Doesn't rhyme." Geralt spoke as he raised his arm to rest on the large concrete structure of a goblet. His arm blocked Stregobor's line of sight, of which is when he looked back at the white-haired Witcher. "All good predictions rhyme."

"I studied the girls born around the Black Sun, and i found horrendous internal mutation among them."

"You dug around in their bodies?" Azalea spoke out, her brows pinched as her eyes seemed to burn like a raging fire. "After they died? Did you fu-" A sharp look over his shoulder, staring at Azalea warningly, had the girl shut her mouth. Her temper often got the best of her in situations where men proved to be so much worse than the beasts they hunted.