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(when you just can't seem) to shake the weight of living by WingedQuill
Fandoms: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
07 Feb 2022
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Summary
Geralt's muscles heave backwards, flinging him down against the bed. He tries to struggle upwards but it feels like he’s been buried beneath a mountain. Every inch of him is pressed completely still. His eyes close, and he’s left in the dark with nothing but his racing heart for company. He’s not tired, he’s never been less tired. But the curse wants him to sleep, it seems. It’ll force him to lie here until he does. How much of his life will it start to control, now that he’s declared war against it? Now that he knows it’s lurking in his bones, now that it doesn’t have to be subtle?
He swallows. Takes a long, deep breath, gathering every bit of courage he has to stop himself from slipping back into panic. He still has control over his lungs. He still has that.
For now.
(Or: Witchers don't retire. They stay on the Path until it kills them. They hunt monsters and they want nothing from life. This isn't exactly by choice.)