-----

-----

Geralt dropped his hands away and let Regis work, it was rare that someone doted on him like this, rarer still that he felt comfortable enough to let someone. But Regis had always been special.

He smirked a little as Regis struggled, amused that someone with such clever hands and lithe fingers would have trouble.

"Perhaps I should, but I've never had someone teach me how. There's always been stuff to do, the next monster to hunt, books to read, information to gather, wounds to heal or training to do. Maybe I'll start to ease myself out of it all eventually."

He paused to consider that for a moment, shrugging out of the chainmail shirt and setting it aside.

"I do have a house now, maybe it'll be different."

He made a low sound, the amused smirk back in full force.

"I'm flattered. But if someone has to follow me around, I'm glad it's you. Helps that Roach is fond of you, too."

-----

"Well you keep coming back, so who's more ridiculous?" He asked dusting his hands idly as he moved across the little room to peer out of the window and into the street below. "Besides, if the attention of a certain lady are anything to go by, you still have a bit of something. Marlene is still sweet on you, she asks about you a lot, you know?"

He turned back toward Regis, resting back against the edge of the window for a moment before he moved, tugging off his gloves before beginning on the fastenings of his armour and sword straps. He didn't need to be suited and booted while he was inside like this.

"Still not sure I'm really built for laziness." He mused, reverently standing his swords against the edge of the desk.

There was the barest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth at just how doting and caring Regis was naturally. He said things so thoughtlessly, so easily and he always meant it. It was astounding, really. Surprising and refreshing. The world needed a little bit more of Regis.

-----

It turned out to be four years before Geralt came across Regis again, and it wasn't by any kind of plan or design. He hadn't heard anything from or of his friend since that night in the cemetery. He'd heard the odd squawk of a raven in the trees ahead while he'd been going about his business, but nothing beyond that.

He hadn't quite fully managed to retire, as soothing as he found it to have a home, the first real place to call his in his life time, the silent life wasn't completely for him just yet. There was still a rough edged restlessness about him that he couldn't seem to settle. The Path called to him still, fate -which he was still a little prickly about- had other plans for him yet.

He'd found himself near Nilfgard on a job and since he was so close he'd decided to drop in. It would have been a shame to be so close to Ciri and not to see her -neither of them would have forgiven him for that- but now he was spending some time to recharge, get some new armor and supplies before he moved on again.

Currently he was settled in the shade of the market place, resting against the wall outside of the herbalist, while he waited for them to gather his order and across the square the armorer was busy knocking out a fresh chest plate for him. He was in no rush, though. For the moment he was content enough to let life drift by.

⸻

The road to Nilfgaard was long and lonely. The only creatures to keep him company along the way were any ravens in the area. It was enough for now. It had to be.

Ravens and vampires tended to be fond of each other. The lack of human chaos from the vampires was reassuring to the birds, and in return, the birds looked out for the vampires. It was a relationship built on understanding more than trust, on respect more than friendliness.

There was, of course, a vampire who was an exception to these generalizations. He understood and respected the ravens, like the rest of his kind, but he trusted and befriended them as well. The energy of his being was calmer than any creature the ravens knew.

They knew he hadn’t always been this way, and they knew he contained vast amounts of strength, but he smiled whenever he spotted a black bird, and he often spoke to them about his life or his passing thoughts, whether mundane or compelling, so the ravens grew to like him more than the rest of the vampires they watched over. It made for easy companionship.

His thoughts often roamed to Dettlaff, wondering if things might have been different. Not everyone held a capability or capacity to live like him. Dettlaff was the very proof of that. Betrayal had wounded him too deeply. Regis had to remind himself that this was perhaps the only true outcome that would have come to pass, given the situation and its turn of events. Nevertheless, he should have tried. He could have done more. Regis often blamed himself for things that were out of his control, he knew this to be true, but the feeling remained. It was a deep and lingering one. He should have tried harder where Dettlaff was concerned.

The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt (dev. CD Projekt Red)

-----

It wasn't just the peaceful night that had Geralt sleeping reasonably peacefully -for a change- it was the bitter, herby concoction that Regis had given him that had smoothed the way. The sleep was deep enough that every sound didn't interfere with his rest, but light enough that he didn't feel endangered. Regis was a miracle worker like that, truth be told.

So when he woke to find himself alone in the cemetery with just the ash and embers and the empty bottles of their night together for company, he wasn't surprised. He always woke alone anyway, this time was no different he thought to himself as sat for a moment with the fresh cool breeze rustling the trees and the morning dew for company.

Despite their conversation he had hoped that Regis would change his mind and stay, it was a foolish hope but in his old age Geralt found himself being more foolish. Hoping for the ridiculous, wondering at a quiet life, retirement. All the stuff he shouldn't even have time for. Witchers didn't die in their beds after all and yet, some days, especially lately, he found himself thinking...

With a sigh, he pushed himself up, dusting the dirt from his trousers and fixing his armor over his chest.

"Well," he mused aloud, voice gruff. "Tell him to take care of himself." He told the ravens he knew were perched in the trees behind him. Hoping, once again, that if anything, his old friend would at least do that.

"And tell him it wasn't his fault."

This last he added as he shouldered his swords, rearranging the harness over his chest before moving out.

:: conversations in the dark // emiel regis x geralt of rivia // for @bloodandwhite ::

⸻

It was quiet here. There was a certain peace and tranquility that often accompanied time spent with Geralt in the evenings. Here in the Mère-Lachaiselongue Cemetery they would have to part ways, though. They knew as much, had said as much earlier while they chatted over a roaring fire and hooch.

While the witcher slept, Regis lost himself to dark and somber thoughts. He had to go. The loneliness bit away at him, eager to have him walking a different path so it could torment him relentlessly, no doubt. He loathed the way it made his stomach turn. It was time to leave. Toussaint was no longer safe for vampires. His thoughts inevitably turned to Dettlaff, disgusted with the way the entire situation had played out. Things could have gone so differently. He could have lived.

He cursed beneath his breath as he packed his things, daring to glance Geralt's way one last time. "Have a good life, my friend," he murmured quietly, thankful for the man's restful sleep, before misting away.

Ard Skellig

endless Witcher 3 gifs

Quiet contentment.