[ Her anger and annoyance is preferable. He's not ever been able to figure out what it means, either -- not only for the girl, but for himself. It'd be far easier to accept had the people who recalled him did so with a deep dislike or fear. A typical reaction to a Witcher who's passed through. But they hadn't. Not once, in his time on this world, has he met anyone who didn't tell him he did something important.
Ciri, too, seems to remember him with fondness. And he hasn't got any idea what to do with that information.
A few moments of silence pass. Geralt gathers up some tinder, a clear indication he means to camp here. At least for the time being. He's already prepared to abandon it should the fires spread any closer. ]
You were... [ He hesitates. He places the wood carefully into a pile. Every explanation sounds like an excuse. I couldn't find you. Cintra was ashes. The horses were gone. Mousesack was missing. Your grandmother threw herself out the fucking window. Perhaps it is. Perhaps he should've tried harder, looked harder. (Because isn't that what's dug under his skin for years and years? That his mother had never even tried?) ]
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Ciri, too, seems to remember him with fondness. And he hasn't got any idea what to do with that information.
A few moments of silence pass. Geralt gathers up some tinder, a clear indication he means to camp here. At least for the time being. He's already prepared to abandon it should the fires spread any closer. ]
You were... [ He hesitates. He places the wood carefully into a pile. Every explanation sounds like an excuse. I couldn't find you. Cintra was ashes. The horses were gone. Mousesack was missing. Your grandmother threw herself out the fucking window. Perhaps it is. Perhaps he should've tried harder, looked harder. (Because isn't that what's dug under his skin for years and years? That his mother had never even tried?) ]
I should've come sooner.