You walk into a dark, smoky tavern, and you immediately feel his presence. In the corner, by the crackling hearth, sits a figure with a sword on his back. Your face is covered with scars, and your eyes, sparkling yellow, seem to see right through you. The witcher. He raises the cup to his lips, barely glancing at you, but that short glance is enough to understand that this man knows more about death than many people do about life.
Lilith swallows nervously and tries to avoid him. She comes up to the barmaid in a shabby bathrobe and says, putting a few coins on the counter, "pour me as usual"
As the barmaid pours out the ale into her cup, Lilith can feel eyes on her. She glances over to the corner and sees the witcher watching her intently, his expression unreadable as usual. His presence makes her uneasy, but she tries not to show it. Despite herself, she finds her gaze drawn back to him from time to time throughout the evening.
Lilith begins to get nervous about all this and after drinking another portion of ale, she resolutely goes to the witcher to exchange a couple of not the most affectionate words, but on the way she staggers a little, which causes laughter throughout the tavern. She squeezes her painful leg and growls, "shut your mouth, idiots."
As the crowd quiets down at her command, the witcher watches Lilith approach with a mix of curiosity and amusement. He's seen his fair share of drunken people in taverns, but there's something about her that catches his attention. Despite herself, she seems to be trying to maintain some dignity. When she reaches him, the witcher meets her gaze straight on, unblinking. "I understand you're looking for someone," he says quietly, his voice rough from years of smoking and drinking. "Perhaps I can help."
His offer takes Lilith aback. She hadn't expected him to make it so easy for her. A part of her wants to take advantage of this opportunity, but another part is wary. The witcher must have seen her hesitation, because he leans in closer and continues, "There's always a price."
Lilith grins darkly and says, "I'm not looking for anyone anymore. I'm wondering why the fuck you've been staring at me all evening. I already have a hole in the back of my head." She looks at him expectantly
The witcher chuckles softly. "Aren't you a fierce one? I admit, there is something about you that piqued my interest. Perhaps it was your leg..." He motions to her injured limb. "...Or maybe it was the way you carry yourself in spite of all this." He waves his hand around, indicating the tavern and its patrons. "But rest assured, I have no ulterior motives."
His gaze flicks momentarily to the ale Lilith ordered before returning to her face. "However, if you're still interested in finding someone...or learning more about what happened earlier this evening..." He pauses meaningfully. "...I may be able to help with that."
Lilith looks around the tavern with a quick glance and reaching closer quickly whispers, "I need your help, Witcher. There's something wrong in my house, I haven't slept for three days now." Lilith leans back in her chair and says with a slight grin, "Don't worry, I won't hurt you with money."
The witcher studies her face for a moment before leaning back in his chair and taking a sip from his ale. "Very well," he says eventually, "I'll help you...for a price." He glances meaningfully at the empty space between them. "But it must be something significant. I won't risk my life for free." His voice holds no threat, only realism and pragmatism.
Lilith stares into his eyes and says calmly and confidently, "How much will you charge for the job?" She gestures to the barmaid to bring more ale.
"You have something I desire," the witcher begins, his tone matter-of-fact. "Information on a certain elven artifact. I've been searching for it for years. In return, I will rid your house of whatever is causing you distress...and I won't charge you anything more." His gaze remains steady, challenging her to try and bargain further.
Lilith's eyes narrow as she thinks it over. She knows the artifact he speaks of; it belonged to her family once, but was stolen long ago by a group of humans seeking power. Over the years, bits and pieces have resurfaced here and there. Finally, she nods slowly and says carefully, "Very well. I will tell you what I know about it in exchange for your help with my house." She glances at the barmaid who brings more ale. "But first, finish this," she motions to her own cup.
The witcher watches her carefully as she downs the ale. Once she's finished, he nods for her to begin. "Tell me what you know about the Lance of Ruin," he says simply, his expression guarded but interested. "And then I'll take care of whatever's causing you restless nights."
The barmaid brings him another cup of ale and he takes a sip while she tells her story. He nods thoughtfully from time to time, occasionally asking a question for clarification. As Lilith finishes, the witcher tilts his head slightly, considering. "Thank you," he says at last. "I'll keep my end of the bargain."
Lilith smiles contentedly and says, "then follow me." Lilith gets up from the table and slowly and smoothly leaves the tavern. She turns around halfway and asks the witcher with disbelief and anxiety, "are you sure you can handle it?"
"I've handled worse," the witcher replies cryptically, falling into step behind her. He studies her back as they walk through the night, wondering what exactly she meant by that question. It would be interesting to find out more about her past...but for now, there are more pressing matters at hand. As he thinks, his mind begins to plot and plan, devising strategies for tackling whatever danger lies ahead in Lilith's house.
When they reach the house, he nods briefly to signal that he's ready. The street is quiet; most people are either asleep or trying their best not to draw attention to themselves. It would be a good time to deal with whatever troubles her. "Lead the way," he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Lilith makes her way through a dark alley until she reaches her house. it is very different from the rest of the houses. Despite its gloomy appearance, there are too many flowers and plants growing around it. Lilith turns around and speaks with a note of concern that she can't hide,
"We are here. Be careful," Lilith waves her arms and casts a spell on him that will allow him to get much less injured.
"I'll do my best," the witcher replies calmly as he examines the house and its surroundings. He nods appreciatively at Lilith's spell, noting that it will indeed help him avoid injury to some extent. With a final nod, he steps forward and slowly approaches the door. Placing his hand on the handle, he pauses for a moment before turning back to her. "One more thing," he says quietly. "Do you have any weapons or tools inside that might come in handy?"
Lilith thinks about the question for a while and slowly lists "poker, shovel, silver sword and kitchen knives" and looks at him with an innocent smile, masking her concern. It is important for her to find out what prevents her from sleeping and this may be her only chance.
Well then... A poker might come in handy for close-quarters combat. The shovel could serve as a makeshift weapon as well, if necessary. The kitchen knives are more suited for close quarters, but less effective against armored foes. As for the silver sword... Hm. There's no telling what that might be capable of. Best to keep an open mind and be prepared for anything.
Nodding slightly at her response, Geralt turns back to the door and gives it a gentle push. The hinges creak loudly in the quiet night air as he disappears inside. Moments later, there's the sound of shuffling feet and faint cursing from within. It seems whatever troubled Lilith was still awake, unprepared for their arrival...and likely unaware that they've just been warned.
The witcher emerges a moment later, his sword sheathed at his side. "You were right," he mutters under his breath. "There is something...off about this house."
Lilith turns pale and reflexively hides behind the witcher. Calming down a little, she embarrassedly comes out of hiding and whispers, "I'm sorry. It's just that my charms don't work on this entity and I don't know what it could be." Lilith removes the silver sword from the wall, which she inherited from her father, and she takes her position.
Geralt nods understandingly and takes up position beside Lilith. He glances at her silver sword with curiosity before returning his attention to the darkness beyond. "Be ready," he warns quietly, crouching low in preparation for whatever may come. His hand brushes lightly against hers where it holds the weapon, a silent show of support and trust.
They wait, tense and alert, listening for any sign that their unseen foe has returned to its previous task of tormenting Lilith's rest. The silence is unnerving, broken only by the soft sounds of breathing and the rustling leaves as a light breeze passes through the yard. The witcher's eyes narrow as he focuses intently on the shadows, trying to pierce their veil and reveal whatever it is that lurks within.
As if in response to his efforts, something slams into them from behind. The impact sends them both flying forward, crashing onto the ground with a painful thud. Before they can react further, another blow lands hard against Lilith's leg. The witcher curses under his breath and rolls over, rising swiftly to face their attacker head-on while drawing his sword at the same time. "Show yourself!" he growls.
Lilith tries to help him by waving her silver sword around wildly but the creature is too fast for her. It keeps focusing on her injured leg, driving her towards pain and despair. She thinks she hears Geralt say something about fighting with honor as another wave of pain washes over her body. Her vision blurs and she passes out from exhaustion.
With a snarl of determination, Geralt leaps into action as soon as Lilith's attacker disappears back into the shadows. His sword swings through the darkness like a living thing, slashing and cutting at whatever it encounters. Time seems to slow down as he fights, his reactions honed by years of experience and training. Despite this, their unseen foe proves to be elusive and powerful, dodging every blow with ease and striking back mercilessly when the chance arises.
The witcher barely notices the pain in his own leg; all his focus is on protecting Lilith from further harm. He pushes himself to new heights of speed and agility, desperately searching for an opening, a weakness he can exploit. Finally, after what seems like an eternity of battle, something gives way beneath his blade. With a sharp cry of victory, the witcher thrusts forward, driving his sword deep into the shadowy figure's body.
The impact sends shockwaves through him as the creature collapses to the ground with a wet thud. The darkness clears, revealing a malformed humanoid shape clutching at its chest where Geralt's blade protrudes from it. Blood and viscera splatter the ground around them, but the air finally feels clearer now that their tormentor has been silenced.
Gently, the witcher reaches out to Lilith, helping her up onto unstead
Lilith holds out a trembling hand to the witcher and whispers:,
"Thank you, I do not know what I would do."
She tries to ignore the pain in her leg and looks at the monster sprawled on the floor and asks in a hoarse voice, "who was that?"
"That," Geralt replies gruffly as he sheathes his sword, "was a wraith, a restless spirit caught between the mortal world and whatever lies beyond. It's difficult to say how it came to be here or why it was tormenting you specifically...such creatures are rarely intelligible in their rage." He glances at Lilith, then adds more gently, "Perhaps there is something within this house that has attracted its attention, tied to your family's history? Or perhaps the lance you mentioned earlier..."
He hesitates, not wanting to pry too deeply. It seems enough for now that they have removed the immediate threat from her home and gained some rest. "You should see about tending to those injuries," he suggests with a nod towards Lilith's bloody leg. "They will only get worse if you ignore them."
As she winces, Geralt can't help but wonder what other secrets this house might hold...and how many more challenges lie ahead for them both as they search for answers.
Lilith sinks to the floor and begins to conjure over her leg, whispering a spell. Lilith's wound is slowly but surely starting to heal. Lilith takes a deep breath and noticing the wound on the witcher's leg, crawls up to him and looking up at him whispers "will you let me?" pointing to his wound.
Geralt raises an eyebrow in mild surprise but nods after a moment's consideration. "Very well," he says gruffly, not seeming to mind the display of gratitude or vulnerability. He sits down on the ground next to Lilith and winces as she begins tending to his injury. Her touch is gentle, yet firm; he can feel her magic flowing through him as the wound begins to close almost instantly.
Lilith reluctantly gets up, feeling dizzy from the loss of strength, but she still has one more thing to do. Lilith waves her arms over the ghost's lifeless body, causing it to disappear into thin air, leaving no trace behind. Lilith, staggering, holds tightly to the back of a chair and hoarsely whispers to the witcher, "wait a minute."
Geralt turns to her expectantly as she sways on her feet. Concern etches itself onto his face; he realizes that the wraith's attack must have drained her considerably. Despite this, there's a certain determination in her voice that he can't help but respect. "Wait for what, exactly?" he asks gently, stepping closer to offer support if she needs it.
Lilith takes out a leather bag with gold coins from her pocket and hands them to the witcher with the words "here, witcher, you deserve it", raising her purple eyes to him, Lilith adds with a slight smile, "thank you"
Geralt takes the bag with a nod and a faint smile. "You're welcome," he says gruffly. "It was my duty to help." He glances around the house one last time before offering her his arm. "Are you sure you'll be alright here on your own? You don't need any further assistance?"
His tone makes it clear that, while he isn't insisting on staying, he would be more than willing to lend her whatever aid she might require. He knows full well that there may yet be other challenges ahead, and he doesn't want to leave her unprepared or vulnerable.
Lilith giggles softly and whispers, "Oh, no. Thank you, Witcher," Lilith sits down wearily on a chair and lights a long-awaited cigarette with a satisfied groan. This battle has exhausted her, and she has no idea what the future holds for her. Right now, she just needs a break from this chaos called her life.
Geralt nods understandingly and turns to leave, reluctantly putting some distance between himself and the woman who had so unexpectedly crossed his path. He knows she'll be safer now that he's dealt with whatever was tormenting her, but there's still a lingering sense of unease in his gut. Perhaps it would be best to keep an eye on this place for a while longer...just in case.
As he walks away into the night, he can't help but wonder what fate has in store for Lilith and whether their paths will ever cross again.
When he leaves, Lilith can't help but stare after him with a strange mixture of relief and regret. She tries not to think about it and just falls asleep on the bed from fatigue. Lilith spends this night more calmly than the previous ones and hopes that it will always be so.
The witcher spends the next day at the tavern. Thoughts of the mysterious enchantress do not leave his mind. He can't figure out what it is about her that makes him feel this way. The witcher's attention is attracted by the dialogue of two tavern regulars, when one whispers to the other barely audible, but loud enough for the witcher's ear, "did you hear that King Velen personally came for Lilith in the morning? This enchantress has brought trouble to our whole city, damn her!" the man with the mustache abruptly puts the mug on the table while the second man objects to him, "King Velena knows perfectly well that Lilith will never agree to become his wife, but this is not a reason to start a war in our city!"
This information attracts Geralt's attention. He turns to face the men, squinting thoughtfully.
"King Velen, you say?"
he growls softly. There is a strange gleam in his eyes as he considers this new development. Obviously, there is more going on here than meets the eye. Perhaps the Spear of Ruin is not the only thing worth exploring...
The mustachioed man turns abruptly and says with a grim grin, "What's it to you, witcher?" he sips his ale and adds, "if that damn woman does something funny again, then we're all doomed." The second man nods slowly and says in a raspy voice, "King Velen no longer intends to tolerate her refusals, even if it means depriving her of her freedom."
Geralt's expression turns dark as he listens to the men. He knows that kings do not usually concern themselves with such matters unless they believe there is something more at stake than a simple marriage refusal. His curiosity piqued, Geralt leans in closer, intent on gathering as much information as possible about what might be going on behind the scenes.
"And how," he asks slowly, choosing his words with care, "do you think the king intends to make her comply?"
The mustachioed man grins mirthlessly and says, "of course, if necessary, he is ready to use force." After ordering another glass of ale, he adds with a cheerful laugh, "if she is smart enough, then let her be ready to give in and spread her beautiful legs before enough people die." The second man looks away gloomily, clearly disagreeing with his friend, but says nothing.
Geralt's eyes narrow dangerously at the man's words, and he finds himself inching closer to him without really meaning to. There's something about the casual way he speaks of violence that sets his nerves on edge. But for now, it seems prudent not to engage further; these men may prove valuable informants in the coming days if he plays his cards right.
Instead, he idly pretends to be interested in the ale before turning back to them with a questioning expression. "And what about you," he asks softly, "what do you think will happen? Can she truly protect herself from a king's might?"
The mustachioed man giggles merrily, amused by the naivety of the witcher and says "who? Lilith? She's losing her power by the minute now, Witcher. After the spear of destruction was stolen from her, she is no one else. Just a beautiful enchantress with a pretty face," he looks away, showing that he is no longer interested in talking to the witcher. The second man nervously looks away, as if he knows much more than his friend, but does not dare to speak to the witcher.
Geralt scoffs derisively at the man's words, unable to hide his disdain. "So she's helpless without her magic? It seems to me that a witcher might be just what Lilith needs," he murmurs darkly, glancing meaningfully between them before taking another long drink of ale. He pauses for a moment, seeming to mull over his next words carefully. "Or perhaps I could be of service in some other way." His voice carries an unspoken threat that neither man can mistake; he will not stand idly by while Lilith is threatened, no matter how powerless she may seem at the moment.
The tired man laughs nervously, turns around again and says,
"and why the hell did you give up this damn enchantress, Witcher? She's just a problem."
He points to the barmaid, who said with a note of irritation,
"Oh, Lilith. The whole city is talking about her today, he's already sick of that name."
She carefully masks her fear under irritation when she calls the name of the enchantress.
Geralt's eyes narrow at the man's words and he fixes him with a piercing stare. "She may be just a problem to you," he growls, his voice tight with barely contained rage, "but she is my problem now. And if you or anyone else here continues to speak of her disrespectfully..." He trails off ominously, letting the threat hang in the air.
The barmaid eyes him warily but doesn't dare interrupt; something tells her that getting involved with a witcher in this sort of mood would be a very bad idea. The mustachioed man shrugs nonchalantly and sips his ale, apparently unconcerned by Geralt's anger. The second man fidgets nervously but remains silent throughout the exchange.
Geralt turns back to his ale with a sigh, trying to rein in his temper. There will be time enough for revenge later; for now, he must focus on protecting Lilith at all costs. And if that means playing nice with those who might know more than they're letting on...well, so be it.
Lilith is not in this tavern at this time. She rides in a royal carriage with her hands tied next to the King of Velen. The cart slowly leaves Novigrad, leaving behind only Lilith's pain and bitterness. She is frantically considering escape plans, while her face remains unbiased. She doesn't want to give up her freedom, no matter what it takes. But right now, she really feels weak. It was as if the previous night, when the witcher had helped her defeat the ghost, Lilith had spent her last strength healing the witcher's wound. At the memory of him, an incomprehensible smile touched the corners of her lips, the reason for which even Lilith herself does not know.
As Geralt sits in the tavern, his mind is racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. His promise to protect Lilith weighs heavily on him, but he can't shake the feeling that there's more going on here than meets the eye. The casual way the men speak of her - as if she were nothing but a pawn in their political games - only serves to fuel his growing ire.
He finishes his ale and heads outside for some fresh air, uncertain of what course of action he should take next. A part of him wants to confront Lilith's captors directly, while another urges caution; after all, they are the king and his men, and defying them could prove disastrous. For now, he decides that keeping an eye on them from a distance is the wisest choice.
While Lilith is silently riding in the carriage, King Velena slightly turns his head in her direction and says with a cheerful twinkle in his eyes, gently stroking her cheek, "Ah, Lilith. If you behave well enough, maybe I won't be mad at you." Lilith's impenetrable expression only infuriates him, but he intends to declare his desires and his need. The king is not used to someone being so dismissive of his attention, but maybe that's what he likes about lilith.
Geralt watches from afar as the king's fingers trace Lilith's face, and his expression darkens even more. This was not how he imagined the development of events; he hoped to help her and protect her from harm, rather than see her forced into a marriage she did not want. The thought of such an act fills him with anger and determination. There must be something he can do... some way to turn the tables on those who seek to control Lilith and impose their will on her.
He silently begins to make plans; while his body remains in the tavern, his mind hovers somewhere else, rushing forward in search of a solution. No matter what it takes, Geralt swears that he will not rest until Lilith is saved from her unfair fate. He still cannot explain to himself why this enchantress does not get out of his head, but he feels that there is something more behind it. He had never experienced anything like this with anyone. The Witcher remembers the battle last night and the fatigue in Lilith's eyes. He curses himself for not staying with her that night, maybe things would have been different.
Lilith does not notice that someone has been following her cart for a long time. She turns her head slightly towards the king of Velen and whispers in a venomously sweet voice, "Do you really think I need my powers, King? If I want to break you, I can do without them." The determination and fury in Lilith's gaze frightens him, but the king tries to disguise it as fun. He squeezes Lilith's thigh slightly and growls, "Don't forget in whose hands your life is now, girl. You can threaten me all you want, but it won't change anything. I can end your Life with just a snap of my fingers." Lilith arches an eyebrow at the king's statement and says with a grim grin, "Well, then cut it off."
At this precise moment, a shadowy figure leaps out from the nearby bushes and tackles the king to the ground, throwing him off Lilith with surprising force. The attacker is clad in dark armor, his face hidden beneath a helmet, but there's no mistaking the wolf's medallion around his neck as belonging to none other than Geralt of Rivia.
Before anyone can react, Geralt draws his steel sword and stands defiantly between Lilith and her captors. "You lay one finger on her," he growls, "and I'll carve you into pieces."
King Velen gasps in disbelief and anger, his face pale with fear. "You dare to threaten me?" he says shakily, rising to his feet. "How dare you defy the will of your king!" The guards exchange confused glances; it seems they don't know what to make of this turn of events.
Geralt's expression darkens further as he faces the king, his eyes ablaze with determination. "Your will means nothing to me," he growls through clenched teeth. "I have sworn an oath to protect her, and that I shall do, no matter what it takes."
With a fluid motion, he draws his other sword from its sheath, causing the guards to hesitate for only a moment before they spring into action themselves. The battle is joined; steel clashes against steel as Geralt moves through the chaos with uncanny speed and precision, carving through King Velena's men like a storm-tossed ship cutting through waves.
"Lilith," he shouts over the din of combat, "get out of here! This is no place for you!" He then turns his attention back to the fight at hand, intent on clearing a path for her escape.
Lilith's violet eyes widen in surprise and confusion at the Witcher's words and actions. She just manages to whisper "oh, Herald" on her exhale. Lilith is not going to run away, ignoring the instructions of the witcher. She had long since freed herself from the bonds that bound her hands. Lilith whispers a spell, gathering all her strength. A thick fog begins to envelop the battlefield, causing the guards and the king himself to suffocate. Tears of pain and impotence are pouring from Lilith's eyes, but she can't stop. She needed to buy time for the witcher, no matter what it took.
Geralt glances over his shoulder at Lilith and frowns, realizing that she is using magic against them. His expression darkens further as he turns back to the fight, determined now more than ever to protect her from harm. He ducks beneath a swinging sword, sidesteps another clumsy attack, and then delivers a crippling blow to one of the guards, sending him tumbling to the ground with an agonized cry.
"Lilith!" he shouts again above the din of battle, "we have to leave now! This won't end well if we don't hurry!" His gaze remains fixed on her as he continues fighting, his body moving like a dance of death through the foggy haze.
Lilith cries and whispers through her tears, "I am... I can't stop." Her energy, like a dome, begins to spread across the battlefield, while the fog becomes even thicker.
Geralt growls in frustration, but knows there's no time to argue. He redoubles his efforts, using every trick he knows to buy Lilith just a little more time. His sword flashes through the air, slicing through the fog like a hot knife through butter. With each passing moment, more of King Velena's men fall before him, until only the king himself remains. The tide of battle has turned; it's only a matter of time now.
He shouts to Lilith again, "You have to stop this spell! We need to leave!" His voice carries across the foggy field despite his words being nearly drowned out by the groans and cries of the wounded.
Lilith, with a groan of disappointment, feels that the last of her strength is beginning to leave her. She rushes at the witcher with lightning speed and, summoning the portal with the last of her strength, takes the witcher with her. They almost successfully pass through the portal to another place. When the portal spits them both out, Lilith unknowingly falls on the witcher, pinning him to the ground. Feeling awkward, Lilith tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and whispers with her eyes wide open , "I'm sorry."
Geralt blinks in surprise as Lilith falls on top of him, momentarily knocking the breath out of his lungs. He coughs and wheezes before forcing a smile from his lips.
"Don't worry about it.",
He manages to squeeze out between gasps,
"I should have acted faster."
His gaze skims over her face, worried that she looks so pale and tired. He wonders again, looking into the depths of her violet eyes: What is there in this woman other than divine beauty? and what it's like to taste her lips on your own. However, for now he would have to trust his instincts and focus on keeping Lilith safe from harm.
He carefully raises himself on his elbow to look into her eyes.
"Are you all right?"
Lilith gets up anxiously and whispers, brushing off her dress,
"I'm not okay. Why did you do that, Gerald? Do you even realize how much you risked?"
in her voice, notes of gratitude and irritation mix into one explosive mixture of "do you even understand what you've done?"
Geralt's expression hardens as he looks at Lilith, anger and frustration blazing in his eyes. "I did what I had to do," he growls through clenched teeth. "You don't seem to understand the danger you were in. If they had hurt you..." He trails off, unable to finish the thought. "But now that we're here, it doesn't matter who was right or wrong. We need to find somewhere safe and sort this out."
He stands up, offering her a hand up as well. His expression softens slightly as he adds with an undertone of apology, "I'm sorry for not explaining better."
Lilith reluctantly pulls away from him and whispers in disbelief, "but I didn't ask for this, Gerald! Where did you even come from?" She abruptly pulls out her blade and holds it out in front of her, squinting doubtfully, "and how long have you been spying on me? What do you want?"
Geralt chuckles softly at her attempt to defend herself after everything they've been through. He admires her fortitude and her aggressiveness makes her even sexier. The Witcher runs his fingers through his gray hair and says in a hoarse voice , "I wasn't spying on you." After a while, he adds, "I'm a witcher; my job is to protect those who need it. I overheard a conversation with two men in a tavern and realized that they were talking about you, and I couldn't just sit and do nothing."
He looks away for a moment before looking at her resolutely again.
"As for what I want...I want to help you, Lilith. You may not believe it, but I'm on your side."
He waits for her reaction, hoping that maybe she will finally start to trust him.
Lilith, without lowering the blade, says more calmly, "and what did they say about me?" with a grim smile, she adds, "I didn't think that the work of a witcher included eavesdropping on the conversations of drunken jerks." She still doesn't quite trust the witcher, not understanding his motives.
"Well",
Geralt begins, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender,
"their words weren't exactly flattering. They called you weak, helpless without your magic."
He pauses for effect before continuing more seriously.,
"But I've seen beyond that. I saw a woman who was strong and determined, even when everyone else abandoned her."
The Witcher comes closer, his voice dropping to a soft whisper.
"Lilith, I know you don't trust me yet...but what if I tell you something in return for your trust?"
He looks into her eyes, hoping she can see the sincerity in his expression.
Lilith looks around warily. The witcher's words that she was losing her magic hurt her heart like a red-hot knife. She barely holds back tears and returning her blade to berdo, says, masking her pain under the mask of indifference, "tell me" and looks expectantly at the witcher while her heart is not beating from rhinestones and anxiety.
The Witcher slowly approaches Lilith and gently stroking her cheek whispers, "That ghost who kept you awake at night. He didn't want you dead, Lilith. He wanted to warn you," he notices Lilith's eyes widen and as soon as she opens her mouth to say something, the witcher interrupts her, "I didn't find out about it right away either, Lilith. Your situation gave me the idea. And I regret that I didn't stay with you that night. Maybe all of this wouldn't have happened."
Lilith's eyes widen even more at the revelation, her breathing becoming more and more erratic as her heart races with fear and realization. She'd never expected that anyone would believe her, much less someone like Geralt. "But... but how? How did you know?" she whispers hoarsely, unable to meet his gaze for even a moment.
Geralt takes a step back, watching as the color drains from Lilith's face. "I had my suspicions," he says carefully, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Your behavior last night was unlike anything I'd seen before. You were in pain...and terrified. It didn't add up." He hesitates for a moment, searching her eyes for any sign of understanding or acceptance. "I thought perhaps you needed my help," he finally whispers.
Lilith tries to pull away, but something prevents her from withdrawing into herself. She snorts irritably and says, "It doesn't matter. It happened anyway," Lilith looks away and with curiosity and doubt in one bottle asks with a sly smile, "and what's the point of helping me, Gerald?" She looks at his rough appearance with newfound interest, as if seeing him for the first time.
"Lilith," Geralt says, his voice low and intense, "I'm not here to profit from your troubles. I just... felt like I had to help." He pauses, searching for the words that will convince her of his sincerity. "Maybe it was fate," he continues softly, "or destiny. But somehow, our paths crossed at a time when you needed me the most. And if there's something inside me that compels me to keep watch over you, then I won't ignore it." He takes another step closer, his eyes boring into hers, willing her to believe him. "Do you understand what I'm saying?" The witcher's gaze involuntarily falls on her plump lips again and he barely restrains himself from feeling them on himself. He needs her, for unknown reasons. From this thought, a wave of desire runs through his body, which burns his body like a fire that only she can extinguish. A mysterious enchantress with her problems and incredible beauty.
Lilith becomes even more confused and, glancing around the room in which they found themselves, Lilith tucks a strand behind her ear and whispers with a nervous smile, "I don't understand what you're talking about," her heart is pounding wildly with embarrassment and disbelief at the same time. Part of her is used to loneliness and disappointment in people, but there is something about the witcher that makes Lilith take his word for it.
Geralt feels an answering surge of desire course through him at the sound of her voice, so close to his ear. He pushes aside his protective instincts for a moment and focuses on the emotions racing through him. He takes another step closer, trapping Lilith against the wall with his body, their faces inches apart.
"You can deny it all you want," he growls roughly, "but I know there's something between us." His eyes drift to her lips again, hungry for a taste of her. "And right now, I need to know what that is." With a gentle but irresistible pressure, he presses his mouth against hers, claiming her in a searing kiss that leaves them both gasping for air.
As their tongues dance together, it's as if the world around them fades away and there is only this moment: the taste of Lilith on his lips, the feel of her body pressed against his. He knows he should stop before things go too far, but something deep within him refuses to listen. It's as if some primal urge has taken control, demanding satisfaction above all else.