[h2][center]Geralt of Rivia[/center][/h2]
[center]The Maw- The Depths[/center]
[center]Lvl 7 (77/70) -> Lvl 8 (79/70) [/center]
[center]Word Count: 945 words[/center]

As others piled into the elevator, Geralt moved into the corner, careful not to touch his raw, burned skin against the walls of the elevator. Even with Blazermate sweeping her healing beam over everybody, the phantom sensation and that gods-forsaken [i]itching[/i] still buzzed around his head, taunting him as he looked himself over. He noticed the scarring that formed with a small frown. Against the unmarred flesh of this child form, they felt almost wrong. At the same time, he knew he wouldn't have given them much of a thought had he been in his regular body, as covered in scars as it was. They'd just be two more among dozens, hardly worth noting. 

Just another thing about this that was wrong, he supposed. 

Kamek's comments about the properties of Blazermate's healing were interesting, and if he weren't absolutely starving at the moment, he might have joined in on the theory-crafting, but all the Witcher could bring himself to do was nod along to the elderly koopa and hum thoughtfully. 

He gave Blazermate an appreciative nod once she was finished with her rounds of healing, and rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes. The upward movement wasn't exactly comfortable, but it wasn't bothering him overly much, either. 

As the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened, Geralt remained in the corner, letting the others pour out and collapse onto themselves in pain, fatigue and frustration. Slowly following after them once the majority had exited, he looked at their new surroundings with a careful eye. The barred room off to their left was the obvious point of interest, but he ignored it in favor of the others' moans, groans and grumbles about their situation. Nadia seemed content to succumb right then and there, Mirage was putting his own little semi-optimistic twist on his own fatalistic thoughts, while the others were too taken aback by the cat's sudden springing into action at the sight of food to really add much on. 

Geralt's eyes scrunched up when he saw her look over and start practically attacking the kid on the other side of the bars trying to get at the food he supposedly had. Trying to get a better look, he stepped forward a bit more, only to see Nadia pull her hand back and shoved something into her mouth before chewing like her life depended on it. Though, to be fair, it certainly felt like their lives depended on getting food soon. That might even actually be the case, but he was still keeping that cloaked figure's words in mind. Despite their adversary in Gneidxick, the others of their ilk had been helpful so far. Between stopping the aforementioned gambling degenerate (said the Witcher with a Gwent deck have the size of his swords) and giving some hints as well as a hand here and there, these mysterious 'Masters' had at least given the impression of being on their side. 

Or against Galeem and thus only tangentially allied. Which, frankly, was not the same as being on the same side, as Geralt [i]very well[/i] knew. 

Sighing as the others tried to stop Nadia after she'd already wolfed down half of what she'd grabbed, Geralt palmed his face and wondered exactly which of the bandits or other ne'er-do-wells that he'd killed had given him the bad karma for this particular situation. "And now we have to worry about being cursed. I suppose it was inevitable that someone woul-"

Okay what the hell guys? In the moments that had passed, Bowser had practically thrown himself the bars with no regard for anything remotely approaching decorum, tact, or subtlety, as was his fashion, Junior and his minion tried to sneak through, with more success on the latter's end, and Bella just dispensed with [i]all[/i] strategy and simply blew down the wall with her tailgun. Geralt was beyond too tired to even attempt to stop them at this point. The energy would just be wasted on talking as the others surged forth to get food.

He was going to have a damned aneurysm at this rate! Removing his hand from his face, Geralt followed the others as they went inside. He wouldn't lie and pretend that he didn't want to eat. If anything, he was as starved as the rest, if not more than a few based on how much he'd been moving around. But when he so much as thought of food, his mind conjured the image of Marlene's Wight form and that disgusting soup she'd made. The thought made him almost physically wretch, and he couldn't bear the thought of eating anything, even as his stomach protested its emptiness. [i]Dammit[/i], he thought, [i]I'd almost been tempted to, as well...[/i] 

Tossing that thought aside, Geralt paid closer attention to the room they were now in, and those strange mechanisms carrying packages up and out the room by the padlocked door. He'd overhead Bowser's loud rambling about a key at some point, and figured that this was a good a place to try one of them as any. Thankfully, it seemed Kamek was already on it. 

Approaching the eldest Koopa, Geralt nodded in greeting, then repeated the motion to Rika and Link, who was also on board with the plan. Taking the key Link hadn't, he joined the little group that was forming and quietly made his way to the door. It all hinged on one of these keys working. With any luck, they would, but Geralt was not known for [i]luck[/i] getting him through the day. 

Little did he know, it would be Bowser's genre-savviness that saved them, not luck!