I had opened the door only to be eye to eye with an armoured chest. Looking up I take a slight step back to get a full view of the person. This man said he had been tracking me. Only a certain breed of human could track a person so well without help of a dog. He was a Witcher.

Had he been tracking me for the last few days? Why did that old man even care if I got out alive? I shake my head ever so slightly and gaze at him in the eyes. He was looking  at me a little shocked. I had my hood down. It was beginning to cause discomfort when I was sleeping.

I sigh deeply, I had spent way to much time looking over him and not enough sewing my wounds. I was about to close the door when he snapped out of his trance and stopped me,
"I obtained your weapons" he stated clearly, his voice gruff and serious, but it had slight relief in his tone, staying silent I open the door more and step back. Allowing him inside the room. I should at least be polite right?

I looked over his clothing, he wore the normal Witcher armour from Kaer Morhen, he wore that same wolf medallion as the rest of them did. It wasn't very surprising considering that he was the famed White Wolf. The lone Witcher who killed monsters for coin alone. Lots of people hated Witcher's for that. For stealing jobs as well as being mutants.

He stepped into the room quietly and took out my two swords, Wolf and Rabbit I called them. It was odd to name a weapon. But it was my choice, they were the strongest and most reliable of the weapons I carried around with me on my travels. I could put any oil, cast any spell on them.

The Witcher in front of me set my weapons on the noticeably bloodied bed. Sighing softly I walked over to my bag that was placed right near his feet and leaned down. Picking it up loosely I took out my sewing kit and dropped my bag carelessly. I honestly didn't care, I was tired, sore and unable to get the dam shackles off.

Placing the kit down on the bed, I sat down at the end of the comfortable surface; carefully thread a thin wire between the needle, I began my work on my legs, closing any of the major wounds, though my wrists were still forced together I could still work pretty well, though the stitching was messier then normal.

I soon began to focus purely on my work, ignoring the man beside me that was looking over my blades and other liquids. I needed to get this stitching done and wrap my wounds before it became a problem. Yeah potions could help, but I was much to weak for them. I didn't even notice that the Witcher was now watching me closely. Watching me struggle to reach certain places. I couldn't even change my clothes thanks to the shackles.

I could hear his footsteps as he moved around me, now in Front of me I could hear the shifting of his metal amour as he knelt before me, his eyes moving over the still open wounds on my skin. Obviously seeing I was having trouble. Great. Was the Witcher gonna take advantage of me now too?

---

Geralt watched the woman closely, she had invited him into the room and had been utterly surprised to see her still functioning perfectly though she was badly injured and was malnourished. He had gotten down onto his knees and activated Igni. Waiting until she was about to move to another wound he grasped the shackles silently, surprising her. She didn't expect it and went dead still. Eyeing his every move,

She's wary. Probably thinks I'll take advantage of her wounded and vulnerable state.

Geralt shook his head and melted the shackles with his fire sign and forced them off her wrists, looking over them he saw the burn marks from her rubbing against them. so much when she moved, poor girl. Taking hold of the wrist that held the needle he grazed his gloved hand against hers and took hold of the needle. Leaning down to her legs he began sewing the wounds up for her. She was shaking slightly, could lead to mistakes, which means more blood lost. She stared at him as he moved onto her arms. Quickly and efficiently sewing the skin together after wiping the blood away with a cloth he had found.

Geralt slowly are his way up to her bleeding shoulder and asked her to remove her shirt. She stared at him a little shocked. Geralt raised his hand up slightly. Not knowing what the woman would do.

"To clean your shoulder. I'm going to have to wrap the wound anyway" he advised, she watched him cautiously before removing what remained of her shirt, she didn't wear a band either. Which made it worse for her. She was dead still as Geralt looked over her shoulder wound.

"What did this?" He asked her, gazing at the large three claw marks that were bleeding badly on her shoulder.
"Werewolf" she stated calmly. Not even fazed. Geralt nodded, moving to clean the blood off. Everything went quiet. Nothing but his movements and their breathing could be heard. Her breathing was ragged, only now noticing it he grabbed out a glass bottle out of his pack and handed it too her. It was 'water'.

Things were pointing to her being a Witcher, he had to do a few tests first. To make sure she wasn't just a sorceress with spells, the drink he gave her was meant for Witcher's, to aid in getting rid of the feeling of beings hungry or thirsty in order to have Witcher be able to work without stopping for food and drink like normal human would. If she was a human's she would spit it out saying it tasted horrible. If she didn't? She has to be some kind of magic user.

Watching her silently he saw how greedily she grabbed it and chugged it down. Obviously very thirsty and hungry. He waited for a few moments to see if she'd react to it. Nothing. That proved his point, meaning the woman he saved had to be some sort of magic user, taking in this new information, Geralt continued working, Until the woman's shoulder was wrapped in bandages securely.. And started on her other arm and upper body.

--

I listen to his steady breathing, trying to ignore my own. I had gladly taken the water he had given me. But it wasn't water, it was a potion to relief a person of hunger and thirst. It was a good thing to carry around, looking over what was left in the bottle I wanted to ask him two questions now. Though I knew his name already. He was that well known Witcher called nicknamed Geralt of Rivia.

It was hard to believe this man was going out of his way to help me. Let alone not the to kill me or anythin for my weapons. I was surprised by him staying, let alone sewing my wounds for me as well wrapping them. So many people would think it's going to far, but I was in so much pain I couldn't move my arms anymore. I had tried to before but failed completely. I turned my head towards him and looked at him in the eyes.

"What's your name stranger" I ask him quietly, now avoiding his eyes as I look over the bottle's contents. Though it was the same with normal Witcher's, I didn't need to be loud, Witcher senses are much more powerful then a human's.
"Geralt" he said, now standing before me, looking over my body for any more wounds to stitch up. I smile slightly at him as he nods his head, seemingly proud of his work,
"Of Rivia? The all powerful monster slayer?" He nods again at my suggestions.
"Could I know the name of my prey?" He asked suddenly. My head snapped up at him. What did he just call me? His prey..? That was a Witcher thing.
"Your prey?" I ask. He shrugs awkwardly and looks down slightly
"Sorry" he apologises quietly making me smirk wider then I had been. The great Geralt of Rivia was sorry for calling a woman he only just met his prey. But I guess he should know my name.
"Elysian" I say.

---

Geralt smirked slightly, Elysian, it meant beautiful in some foreign language, Greek he thought it was. Why did he say prey.. It was stupid decision because he wasn't thinking properly. He should know better then that, but her expression was amusing.

Looking over her white hair and striking black eyes he smiled slightly, the name fitted the woman perfectly. But she needed to change. He had seen enough. And didn't really want to see any more. Turning around he walked towards the closet and sighed
"Get changed into something a little more decent" he stated making her flinch but chuckle.
"Yeah I should" she said to no one in particular, hearing clothes shift and a few grunts of pain he turned his head slightly, looking over her now bandaged body, blood was soaking through on her shoulder, she'd have to have a sorceress heal her to stop that wound from killing her...

He was visiting Yennefer. Who happened to be a sorceress..

Looking back at Elysian, Geralt turned back around seeing she was fully covered, now wearing a white shirt and black pants, a pair she probably picked up on her travels.

He had been trying to ignore the nagging feeling of the thought that the woman before him was a Witcher, he had seen many oils and potions used by Witcher's, used to kill monsters. The two swords were a big clue as well. Her eyes as well. And hair. He was confused by this woman, was she a Witcher, or a wannabe?

She knew about him well before he even spoke. He could tell. But everyone knew about him. He was famous. But carrying around two swords? She never gave him an answer. And calling her prey; she didn't mind. She knew what swallow was, most don't unless their a herbalist. She had the knowledge of one, and the survival know how.., she wasn't a normal peasant woman, or a sorceress.. She had to be a Witcher.. There was no other explanation. Taking a slight step forward his eyes met with her's. Only to have her stand up and put away her sewing kit. What was he going to do with this woman. He couldn't leave her alone so injured, though she could probably fend for herself now that she had her weapons. he still needed to get to Vizima and see the King.

---

I watched him silently, he was in deep thought, and I was hungry again, my body begging to have some sort of food. Sighing I stand up from the bed and had a better look at the shackles. They had a binding curse on them. More then Likely by a witch that was talked into helping those thugs.

I grab my money pouch and pat his shoulder as I walk past him. This pulled him out of his thoughts as I carefully walk down the stairs and into the bar.

Sitting at the bench I call for some food, which I'm given, though it wasn't much; I smile at the inn-keep.
"Thank you, for the room" I say, the man nods and gives me what food I ordered, which wasn't much. There wasn't much around with the war, whole villages were starving. I felt bad for ordering food, but I contributed a little more by giving the man my own meat. Who hc he gladly took and cooked for me.

Hearing footsteps come up from behind me as I began to eat, I heard heavy breathing and the smell of alcohol against my neck. Great.. Not another drunkard.. Sighing deeply i ignore the person near me. The said person sat down beside me. An redanian guard, in this area? Geez.. He was drunk stupid and looking at me seductively. Like he wanted me to be drunk and get on him. Yeah no.

Getting up I take the last bite of my food and move to my original spot at the tavern, the very back of it at that same lonesome table. Sighing contently I look around for something to do, activating Igni I began to play with the flames with my finger tips. It was amusing to see the rest of the people gasp in horror. My hood was up now, I had lifted it before I left the room to conceal myself from their stupid remarks.

Hearing more footsteps come up to me and the creak of the chair. I look up to see Geralt gazing at me. He was eyeing the fire at my fingertips,
"I was right, you're a Witcher" he stated suddenly. His eyes cold and serious, not like before when they had a softer more caring look to them. They had gone slightly darker as well.

That was bad news for me. Meaning he was either getting angry, or suspicious of me. Lifting myself off the table I ignore him and tug my hood forward slightly, keeping myself hidden as I left the tavern and looked around for horses. I'd have to get one. Hearing the door open behind me I sigh
"I'm leaving, thanks for sewing my wounds" I say absentmindedly, ignoring the look he was giving me, one of suspicion.
"If your a Witcher, show me your medallion" he pressed the situation more making me growl. Why was he so pushy, I'm starting to regret talking to him now.

I had became a Witcher many years ago. Though for some it's not a choice, it was for me. At the age of 18 I made the choice to turn into a Witcher, though I didn't fulfill the full mutations. I never got the eyes or strength, just the hair, pale skin, Witcher senses and the ability to sense magic. I never became sterile, From what I could tell at least.

Feeling his presence become stronger I sigh deeply and try to ignore his expression and stances he had a hand on his sword, ready to strike me down if he found out I was lying, a Witcher wannabe.

Taking it out I lift it above my shoulder and show him the Wolf medallion, the exact same he wore around his neck. Geralt seemed a little shocked
"I didn't see you at the school-"
"I was trained elsewhere. I never went to the school" I whisper, "did it all myself" now this intrigued the man behind me, he stood in front of me, blocking my way. His eyes hard and boring into my own.
"How did you not die" his time was serious, and he wasn't going to move until he got answers.
"I lack the physical strength of a Witcher" I mutter, "as well as the eyes, all I have is a talent of using swords, the signs, the senses and the hair" i explain. "Now can I go?" I ask coldly. I wanted to get out of here. I didn't need guards seeing me, expensively Nilfgaardian guards. Yes He was kind enough to track me down and make sure I was healthy, but he was way too pushy to travel with. I had actually thought of a joining him in his travels, but now? Not so much, a Witcher in like a lone wolf. Better off alone. But deadly in a pack. Side stepping I move away from him and look around for anything to do, seeing the entrance to the village I leave it going one way. Hearing a loud high pitched whistle I ignore it and keep walking, it wasn't long before I heard the galloping of a horse. Glancing back I saw the man begin riding in the opposite direction.

It was for the best we parted ways.

A Witcher can only find so much comfort in another.
We're forced through traumatic experiences that would break any human being.
We're made to be emotionless, heartless, no remorse for the monsters we slay, for the people we kill or hurt. For the lives we could ruin with our presence.

Two Witcher's in one place would only cause more pain to be felt, more bad things to happen. Though it could benefit us greatly, it would break us apart.

---

Geralt slowly came to a stop.. Roach panting harshly... Was it for the best to leave the woman alone? Was he making the right choice?

it was for the best that they parted ways. It was in his and her own best interest.. Right?

He had never met another Witcher, let alone a female one. Or one that didn't fit the profile Completely, she was a special case. One that should be monitored..

Maybe Vesemir knew more about this woman, he'd have to contact him once he got to Vizima.