A photograph, you say? [He turns it over, then back. It doesn't change. A still image. Like he'd said, like a portrait, but as if one was looking through a window, not at a painting.
He starts.]
That's it! I think -- I think I've seen one of these before. At Sam's. Quite a bit ago, when I met him. Here. He had portraits in these wooden frames. Of people. Of people I didn't know, and some I did. [And that made sense, didn't it? They were memories. Memories of people Sam knew, that he knew. The Countess de Stael, holding his bloody heart. How many years had it been since she broke it? As if he didn't remember the very day.
He traces across the picture as she points them out. The very size of the fountains alone is unfathomable; they look as big as pools. And those are... buildings. Buildings as tall as castles.]
A show? Here? [He would've loved having shows anywhere, yet. It would be here, every night, seeing this. Does it ever get boring? Exhausting, looking at all these lights? Is it ever overwhelming?]
Ciri showed me this drink. I think one of you must have told her about it. Hot chocolate. Possibly one of the best things I've ever had. [If his tone goes soft in its description, it's not for the drink, but for Ciri gifting it to him. Sharing this... new thing between the two of them.
He finally lifts his gaze from the picture.] Why don't you show me? Something you miss from home. I'll even let you laugh at my reaction. I know it's rather fun for you lot, how old-fashioned we must seem.
[One would have to be blind to the way people react to him, to Geralt. If only he had a coined crown for every time someone had questioned whether he was serious, being a bard. Or attempted to explain interplanetary travel.]
no subject
He starts.]
That's it! I think -- I think I've seen one of these before. At Sam's. Quite a bit ago, when I met him. Here. He had portraits in these wooden frames. Of people. Of people I didn't know, and some I did. [And that made sense, didn't it? They were memories. Memories of people Sam knew, that he knew. The Countess de Stael, holding his bloody heart. How many years had it been since she broke it? As if he didn't remember the very day.
He traces across the picture as she points them out. The very size of the fountains alone is unfathomable; they look as big as pools. And those are... buildings. Buildings as tall as castles.]
A show? Here? [He would've loved having shows anywhere, yet. It would be here, every night, seeing this. Does it ever get boring? Exhausting, looking at all these lights? Is it ever overwhelming?]
Ciri showed me this drink. I think one of you must have told her about it. Hot chocolate. Possibly one of the best things I've ever had. [If his tone goes soft in its description, it's not for the drink, but for Ciri gifting it to him. Sharing this... new thing between the two of them.
He finally lifts his gaze from the picture.] Why don't you show me? Something you miss from home. I'll even let you laugh at my reaction. I know it's rather fun for you lot, how old-fashioned we must seem.
[One would have to be blind to the way people react to him, to Geralt. If only he had a coined crown for every time someone had questioned whether he was serious, being a bard. Or attempted to explain interplanetary travel.]