Geralt of Rivia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bialy_wilk) wrote2021-03-10 02:29 pm
bialy_wilk) wrote2021-03-10 02:29 pm
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[pfsb] "wind's howling..."
The door opens, and a predator walks inside.
He is tall, broad-shouldered. Every movement is accompanied by the creak of leather and clink of chain; his boots sound steadily on the worn wood floor. Each of the two swords strapped to his back stretches thirty-eight inches from pommel to point, and a deep scar runs across his craggy face. His hair is snow-white. He has a cat's golden eyes, the slit, vertical pupils dilating as they adjust to this new, dimmer light.
This inn looked a lot smaller from the outside.
Smaller and dingier. And less...impossible.
"Hrm," says Geralt of Rivia, and drops his shoulders in a sigh.
He is tall, broad-shouldered. Every movement is accompanied by the creak of leather and clink of chain; his boots sound steadily on the worn wood floor. Each of the two swords strapped to his back stretches thirty-eight inches from pommel to point, and a deep scar runs across his craggy face. His hair is snow-white. He has a cat's golden eyes, the slit, vertical pupils dilating as they adjust to this new, dimmer light.
This inn looked a lot smaller from the outside.
Smaller and dingier. And less...impossible.
"Hrm," says Geralt of Rivia, and drops his shoulders in a sigh.