[h2][center]Geralt of Rivia[/center][/h2]
[center]Eryth Sea[/center]
[center]Lvl 5 (57/50) -> Lvl 5 (59/50) [/center]
[center]Word Count: 791 words[/center]

Carefully deposited onto the island by Sectonia, Geralt wrinkled his nose in frustration. How could he let himself lose control like that?! With the immediate threat of the battle over, his thoughts turned inward. [i]The stress of this place has to be getting to me. Even Vesemir got frustrated sometimes, but this is something else. It's not like me to...[/i]

Ah. Exactly. It wasn't like him. Absorbing that Enderman spirit had done more to him than he'd expected. He was used to pushing his emotions down, not letting them get the better of him. But when they were so overwhelmingly powerful, and caused by something not entirely himself? The damn had burst. Every errant glance, every time he had to teleport himself, everything that had happened seemed to add to the flood of indignation that had spilled forth from him. 

Getting this spirit out of him suddenly became priority number one. He was no good to anybody like this. He'd have to be more careful in considering the possible downsides to absorbing spirits in the future. Considering that he'd left the Pelagic Champion to fade away, it might have just been the urgency of facing one of Galeem's champions that made him make such a poorly-thought out decision.

Hah! Who was he kidding, that kind of brash, devil-may-care attitude was pure Geralt, through and through. One didn't break curses without making a few suppositions, after all. Still, this was one such decision that reminded him that he always had to be vigilant, even when he was sure he was fine. The dangers of a Witcher's life, they were.

Peach's question was met with a frustrated and demanding, "[i]Please do.[/i]" He tried not to let exactly what, or in this case who, he was frustrated with show in the statement, however. The last thing he needed was his companions questioning his sanity after that debacle. 

Once the spirit was removed from Geralt, and he was back to his regular proportions and state of being, he gave Peach a small, genuine smile. "Thanks, Princess. I'd not recommend anybody do that again. The downsides are much, much worse than the upsides are." His piece said, the Witcher turned and walked over to the Dispenser Dell had set up. He remembered vaguely being told that the machine could produce ammunition and regenerate wounds. The machine made a few bolts for his crossbow, bringing him back to his original 30 and filling his case. Additionally, he noticed that his blaster was charged again, from the display Tora had helpfully put on it to show Geralt how close he was to empty, so to speak. It turned out he was much closer than he'd expected, though given the sheer magnitude of the previous fights, it was little wonder. 

He also noticed that his aches were dulling even more rapidly than usual, which was further proof of this machine's miraculous properties. Smirking, Geralt looked to the man responsible for creating it. Knowing he was a "summon", a temporary entity manifested through the power of a spirit, made him pause. Normally he might have even complimented the man for making something so useful, like Hattori in Novigrad. With things as they were, however, he mostly ignored the Engineer, instead returning to the group and grabbing a "hot dog". Which was pig. In a tube shape. Yeah, that made sense. 

Ignoring the strange shape and name of his food, Geralt ate slowly, savoring the flavor. It was rich in flavor, fatty and greasy. Perfect food for a Witcher. It would give him plenty of energy, and didn't taste like a horse's arse.

Geralt mostly ignored the three newcomers who started chumming it up with Fox and the group's leaders, both actual and self-proclaimed. They seemed to know each other, and he wasn't terribly in the mood for making new friends. 

Which made the next newcomer even more ironic. A young girl, likely a teenager, with the body of a seasoned warrior. That earned a raised eyebrow, but the Witcher thought better of commenting. Women could be touchy about that sort of thing. She seemed to want to make friends with everybody, and was generally upbeat and jovial. [i]Oh joyous times, yet another hero,[/i] The Witcher silently bemoaned. Still, if she was like the others, he'd grow to tolerate her. Standing up, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Peach and Bowser. "The girl in the...weird clothes is in charge, but the big guy is gonna get pissed at me for saying that, so suck up to him a little or something so he stops yelling for a minute. Bastard's too loud." 

His piece spoken again, Geralt sat down and returned to his food.