Geralt vs Pit
Geralt: Lvl 9 (91/90) -> Lvl 9 (97/90)
Pit: Lvl 2 (16/20) -> Lvl 2 (22/20)
Location: Smash City Alcamoth
Word Count: 5603
The angel said following Mewtwo's suggestion of one-on-one spars. With some Smash tournaments under his belt, combined with the few rounds of training he'd done while awakened from Galeem’s influence and stationed at the Alcamoth, Pit was feeling pretty confident. Not being familiar with all of the Seekers, he watched them pair off until the process of elimination left him matched up with... a very large, horned, rugged looking man with slit pupils. The man looked human, for the most part anyway, however there was a distinctly non-human feeling that he gave off. He might be psychic, or magic, or
both! Plus Pit didn't have his Lady's guidance to rely on. His shoulders drooped slightly.
Snap out of it, Pit! You can do this! Just imagine what Lady Palutena would say. Ahem. Pit, that fighter is Geralt. He's a professional in his field, but don't let his mastery of arms, superhuman abilities, or rugged good looks intimidate you. Inside I'm sure he's just a big softy. Okay, got it, I'm good!Pit approached his sparring partner, offering the man - and the woman beside him - a friendly smile.
"Hi there, I'm Pit! I'm actually a veteran, so I know some great spots to fight."Geralt considered that sparring amongst their allies was probably a good way to spend the time while they waited to be called upon. At the very least, they had Blazermate and Kamek to heal any injuries that they received, so long as they weren’t fatal. Given the level of expertise among the Seekers, he didn’t expect any of them would accidentally kill their allies. As the pairings were announced, Geralt hummed lightly and looked at his competitor as he approached. He
looked young, but appearances could be deceiving, as Geralt well knew.
“Hello, Pit. I’m Geralt. Looking forward to a good fight.” Succinct as far as introductions went, but it worked.
With greetings out of the way, the two could get going.
"Let's get this show on the road,", Pit said.
"Follow me!" He led the way out of the command center and cut straight through the main lobby. He waved to a few people they passed, who waved back for the most part, and then the angel took a corner leading to one of Smash City's on-site battle arenas. Then he had another idea, and took another corridor. It ended up taking them to a teleporter, which took them to an adjacent floating island. The area was colorful, like a festival in progress, and featured many archways with symbols above them. They weren't the only people there, as the small island had spectators and fighters aplenty. Pit took them over to the closest one, with the symbol of a dragon's head. Its doorway was obscured by thick fog, and beside it was a currently blank monitor as well as a small panel. Pit hummed and taped at the latter. The screen flickered to life and scrolled through several images too fast for the eye to see, until abruptly stopping on a preview of stone towers and grassy hills with the text "Halidom" displayed across it.
Pit squinted at the image, then stepped aside and presented it to his opponent with an outstretched hand.
"How about this one?"Geralt looked at the image, and nodded with a hum. “That should work, yes.” He replied simply. Given that the boy had wings, he wondered if the choice was made to give him an advantage, though Geralt didn’t worry much about that. If he could fly with those wings, it wouldn’t matter if there was high ground to maneuver around. Geralt would just have to make do.
"Okay, lemme just…" Pit fiddled again with the panel, and behind the fog a curious noise could be heard. After a moment the noise stopped. Pit looked back at Geralt and grinned before stepping through the fog. Inside was the aforementioned Halidom, in all its work-in-progress glory.
Pit walked around their chosen arena to get a feel for it. This particular stage he hadn't battled on, so it must have been new. He found that the glowing altars, though swirling with their respective elements, served more as decoration than a hazard. He did some stretches, including wing exercises, ran in place for a few seconds, and then finally held a hand out in front of him. Shimmering light gathered in his hand, forming a gold and lapis bow with no string.
He glanced at Geralt.
"When we're both ready, there'll be a countdown. Usually we fight until someone gets knocked out of the arena -" At this he pointed to the far areas of the stage, where the ground suddenly gave way to cliffs.
"- but there are rules about fighting until someone gives up or can't fight anymore too."Geralt followed Pit out into the arena, rolling his arms in wide circles as he did so to loosen the joints and stretch his muscles. As the Angelic soldier did his own exercises and warm-ups, so did the Witcher, stretching his legs, his back, and his core even with a few stretches. He listened carefully while Pit explained the usual rules, just to be sure. These kinds of things were typically fairly straightforward in his experience, but it never hurt to be sure.
“Interesting setup this place has. How does all this even work?” He casually asked, nodding to show he understood the rules Pit was describing.
"Um. Magic?"Geralt let out a short bark of laughter. “Aye, fair enough.” He had a feeling that bow was similar, or else it would be useless without a string. Drawing steel, Geralt nodded. “Ready when you are.”
"Ready!" Pit said in reply, and around the fighters a deep voice over began.
THREE... TWO... ONE...
GO!
Pit opened by extending his free hand toward the bow, confirming Geralt's hypothesis as the two glowing rings around his wrist conjured a bowstring and a glowing blue arrow of light. He drew the ethereal string back and let the arrow fly, and before even confirming if it hit his opponent a second arrow was created and fired.
Geralt, as Pit was creating the bowstring to his weapon, cast the Sign of Quen to protect himself, then advanced with his sword up in a low guard, ready to deflect the arrows Pit sent his way.
Ironically, the relatively slow speed of the projectiles threw Geralt off guard, and his clumsy parry of the first allowed the second to crash into the shield protecting his body, damaging it noticeably but failing to break it. Taking the opportunity for what it was, Geralt then moved to rush his opponent.
A shield charge, huh? Before Pit would meet the Witcher in close combat, he really wanted to crack that magic shield.
"How about this!" He said, jumping backward and using a flap of his wings to put even more distance between the two. Then, he pulled the drawstring taut and aimed straight up into the air. The arrow flew up, and after a second its arc changed drastically into a divebomb headed for the top of Geralt's shield.
Geralt grunted as Pit jumped, using his wings to put further distance between the two while nocking an arrow. Seeing what he was up to, the Witcher ignored the arrow and
sprinted towards Pit, his enhanced physiology allowing him to nearly close the distance as the arrow crashed into the Quen shield, breaking it and shattering the magical barrier. “Not good enough!” He yelled, sword coming up in a swing to try and cut at Pit’s wings.
The assault came much faster than Pit had anticipated. Much too quickly to come up with a counter if he wanted his wings to be spared - which he very much did! He yelped, yanking his feathered limbs in close to his body. Tucked against his back they were relatively safe from the Witcher's sword, but it left the rest of him open for follow up.
Geralt gave no mercy to his opponent, perhaps buoyed by the fact that they were surrounded by experienced fighters who did this on a daily basis and assuming that they had methods in place to prevent grievous wounds. Regardless, his sword did not halt or slow, and he drew the blade across Pit’s arm, spinning and lashing out with an elbow to follow up the blow.
Crack. The elbow struck Pit in the face, sending him wheeling backward. One hand, attached to the injured arm, clutched at his aching nose, the other still had a firm grip on his bow.
Okaaay, this guy means business, Pit thought. He didn't begrudge Geralt for his ferocity, in contrast it was good to see just how strong the Seekers were. And how weak he was at present, given there were so many of his powers and abilities he still didn't have access to. He'd just have to take this fight more seriously if he wanted to win. The angel braced himself, shifting into a ready stance to tackle whatever his opponent would throw at him next.
As Pit reeled backwards, Geralt entered a ready stance of his own, cautiously approaching the angel, but not attacking quite yet. “Gotta have more for me than that,” He taunted, “or we can’t really call it a spar.” He was, quite clearly, giving Pit a moment to re-evaluate how he wanted to handle this fight. This wasn’t a battle to the death, after all, he could afford to be a sportsman.
"Ehehe..." Geralt wasn't wrong, a new strategy was definitely in order. As the two combatants stared each other down, Pit decided he'd try going toe to toe with the man in melee. He smiled, wide and toothy, and brought both of his hands together on the grip of his bow, holding it horizontally. One was an overhand grip, the other underhand.
"Alright, then try this on for size!" He leapt forward, and though at first it may have seemed like the angel was going for a shove with the bow, the weapon split apart into two curved short swords. Pit lashed out with both at once, a pincer move to catch opponents in their blind spots.
Geralt’s eyes widened in surprise as Pit’s bow
split into two swords, and he backpedaled hard, swinging his sword at one blade while using his gauntleted arm to try and deflect the other from his vital areas while he tried to make room. The dual swords were rebuffed, but only for the moment.
His opponent gave chase, swinging again with the sword that he'd deflected with his gauntlet. The weapon slashed at the man's chest, then in one smooth movement Pit brought it's hilt together
with it's partner, and he spun around to give the complete weapon more momentum as he swung it at Geralt's mid-section. Back together, the bladed bow had a longer reach that would make up for the distance the Witcher was trying to put between them.
The blade struck chain, sliding off Geralt’s armor but still leaving a sting. “Better!” He called, bringing his sword up to deflect another strike, pirouetting to the side and lashing out with a vertical cut while making the Sign of Igni, sending a burst of fire Pit’s way. “But a Witcher is more than a sword!”
After seeing that spectral shield the man had opened with, Pit expected he had some other kinds of magic up his sleeve. He caught Geralt's strike with his bow, the steel sliding off of the curved edge. He jumped at the first sign of danger, literally - using his wings to propel himself into the air and away from the flames, he spread his feathers wide to let the hot air further lift him and keep him suspended for a moment.
"That's a neat trick!" He said, just before closing his wings and aiming a flying kick at Geralt's head.
Geralt hummed in approval at Pit’s quick dodge, keeping a close eye on the angelic soldier. As he closed his wings and moved to divekick the Witcher, Geralt watched his movements carefully, dodging to the side while throwing a quick, discouraging slash at Pit to force him back. He had an idea now, but he wasn’t sure exactly how it would work.
Pit hopped away from the spacing strike, and once again the two fighters were squaring off and observing each other. With only the most glancing blows dealt to Geralt so far, Pit was eager to jump back in and prove his mettle. He bounced in place, the bow once again split into two blades, and when it didn't seem that the Witcher was making a move he dove back into melee range. He made a series of slashes one after another with increasing speed, a veritable assault leaving little quarter that tested the man's defenses.
Geralt found himself pleased as Pit took the fight seriously, taking a moment to observe before rushing back in with a blistering pace. It took quite a bit of concentration to manage, but with both hands controlling his blade, he managed to deflect Pit’s flurry of blows, typically managing to do so with only the tiniest of moments to spare. That wasn’t to say that a few didn’t sneak in and mar the leather and dull the chain of his armor, though, and it was while one such attack was sliding against his gambeson that Geralt charged Pit, steel blade flashing in a diagonal cut aimed from hip to shoulder, ignoring the bruises that would form shortly and be healed by nightfall.
With one sword mid-swing already, Pit attempted to block the strike with the other. Even with the angelic strength he had packaged into his small frame, he couldn't beat Geralt's pressing power. He only just managed to avoid another injury by deflecting the blade's path to the side as a side-effect from failing to stop it completely. With his form and flow broken, and his opponent's sword poised for a follow up, Pit dropped low and kicked his leg out in a sweep.
Geralt managed to avoid the sweep kick by backpedaling once more, sweeping his sword up in a guarded stance as he nodded appraisingly at Pit. Not bad, not bad at all. Their little fight had actually been quite fun so far, though he was starting to get the impression that as long as he could avoid the worst of Pit’s blades with his armor, it would hardly be fair. Well, that was the point of armor, after all.
With the two apart, Geralt was better able to focus on the
thrumming sensation within his chest, something that had been growing as they fought. It felt not unlike the Breaching Bastion did, something within himself that he simply knew he could do, but did not quite understand as of yet. So, he did the thing he felt was right; He answered the call.
For a moment, the little changes to his body seemed to show themselves more prominently. It wasn’t that they became more exaggerated, it was as though Pit’s attention could not pull away from them. Even under his armor, Geralt’s frame was a little too wiry for the power he could put out. His smile a little too wide, almost predatory. His eyes feline slits.
And the next moment, it was all washed away by the blood-curdling
wail that emanated from his maw, for no other word could describe the disgusting, unhinged face that seemed to project itself from Geralt’s own skull. A feeling of dread built among the two fighters as a bolt of lightning crashed upon the ground near Pit, and a wave of electricity burst out of Geralt’s body, traveling laterally upon the ground.
So that’s what it was… Geralt mused, taking advantage of the situation as another lightning bolt landing seconds later, heralding another wave of electricity from Geralt.
That is not
a normal spell! Pit shrieked internally. That blood curdling scream was right out of a horror game, and combined with the bolt of lightning and crack of thunder that followed it's arc, it startled Pit enough that the wave of electricity running along the ground didn't even register. It zapped him, sending a shock throughout his body as soon as he touched it.
"Wh-a-a-a-a-a-!"It was painful, but not so debilitating that the second bolt cracking nearby couldn't (literally) shock him back to his senses. Pit leapt up and over the second ground wave, and with a few erratic flaps of his wings he hit the ledge of one of the stone towers nearby. He was singed and still a little electrified, if the visible static and puffs of smoke coming off of him were anything to go by. He scrambled up over the ledge and, after catching his breath, he jumped up and pointed a finger at Geralt.
"What was that! You were giving off some serious Underworld energy just now! Aren't you supposed to be a good guy?!"Geralt just let out a dark chuckle. “Oh, did I forget to tell you?” He let the pause linger in the air for a moment. “I’m a mutant who kills monsters for coin.” At that, he quickly sheathed his sword upon his back and replaced it in his hands with the shiny new magical bow he’d purchased from the Argentum Trade Guild, rapidly nocking an arrow and sending it Pit’s way. “Remember the Guardians Mewtwo showed us? The Orphan of Kos? Yeah. Who do you think took its Spirit?” As he spoke, yet another bolt of lightning crashed, and another wave of electricity flowed out from him along the ground.
Geralt's explanations informed a lot about him, some Pit had already speculated. That he was some kind of mercenary like his ally Magnus was kind of a given, but his absorption of that monstrosity was a surprise. Pit actually winced when he revealed that, though the expression quickly changed to one of concentration when he had to dodge an arrow.
Swords, fire, lightning, and arrows now too? So unfair! Pit thought. If only he had his full arsenal, then it would
really be a match. Actually now that he thought about it, there was at least one thing that had returned to him, wasn't there? One that was well suited to the situation at hand.
"You should probably get that checked out!" Pit yelled, though it was more of a taunt than serious advice. Although after this he should probably, actually, suggest that Geralt see a shaman or exorcist or something and make sure nothing nefarious was going on inside him. He side-stepped the lightning, and to get clear of the shockwave that followed he hopped onto the tower’s raised ledge. With bright eyes he anticipated the next thing Geralt would send his way.
“What do you think I’m doing right now?” Geralt taunted back, drawing yet another arrow and launching it Pit’s way. “Figured better now than in the middle of a fight to the death!”
Okay, fair point.This time when Geralt loosed an arrow at Pit, the angel faced it head on. He shot his arm forward, and the bow he held disappeared in a puff of golden particles. In front of him a blue tinged energy shield with two little disembodied wings on either side of it formed, fast enough to intercept the projectile.
"Defend!"The arrow struck the shield, but rather than bounce off it was reflected - returning directly to sender faster than it had been fired.
Geralt’s eyes widened by the shield and he leapt to the side, abandoning all notions of proper footwork in favor of not getting hit by a magically accelerated arrow. Even if it didn’t pierce his armor, that looked like it would hurt and quite a bit.
Still, his bow was gone for a moment. Geralt returned his own projectile weapon to his back, charging up the ramp at him and drawing his own sword, while creating the Sign of Aard in his free hand, launching an invisible burst of telekinetic force Pit’s way.
When the energy shield faded, it was replaced by two
smaller red shields that floated around Pit. He planned to re-summon the Palutena Bow and leap back into direct combat with a high-ground advantage, but the movement of Geralt's hand made him hesitate. It was how the man had cast most of the other spells, so the shields remained - but they couldn't block what he couldn't see. The burst of power sent Pit flying as Geralt made up ground, right off tower. He hastily righted himself midair and flapped his way back to the stone top, his wings working overtime since he truly fly. When he landed he tucked the feathered limbs close to his back, and though tiring from the battle on top of the wing exercise, he met Geralt's eyes with a defiant stare.
"I'm not finished yet!" Pit declared. The orbitars shimmered and fired bolts of energy at the Witcher, whirling around the angel in a loose ellipse.
Geralt tried to dodge the bolts of energy, but one slammed directly into his chest, causing him to have to shift his balance so the sudden impulse didn’t knock him over. It hadn’t been quite that strong, but it was unexpected enough that he couldn’t just ignore it. Bringing his sword up, he stepped in with a thrust as he spoke. “Good, still got plenty of life in me!”
An orbitar swooped in to parry the sword, the weapons clashing and veering off course. The second orbitar flew forward and clonked against Geralt's armor. As they were primarily defensive the attack was practically harmless, but attention grabbing nonetheless. With Geralt so close, and Pit not the boxing type, he instead took the chance to bridge the distance between them. He rushed forward and grabbed a hold of his opponent's gambeson with both hands. With surprising strength Pit twisted around raising one leg as he spun and then stomping down, using the momentum to haul Geralt up, overhead, and then bodily
slammed him down onto the stone with a battle cry.
Geralt found the Orbitar crashing against him a bit surprising, but not nearly as surprising as Pit physically grabbing him, all seven feet of Witcher and armor, and manhandling such that he was able to pull the Witcher over his body and slam him into the ground. As the breath left his body, instinct took over as Geralt’s legs lashed out to trip Pit, while he scrambled with his hands to push himself to his knees.
The angel was only able to avoid being knocked over by backing away, the tip of Geralt's boot just catching his padded shin guard. He ended up giving Geralt some breathing room, but he didn't intend to leave the quickly shrinking opening he'd created alone for long. Once more Pit held out his hand, and the Palutena Bow formed as the Guardian Orbitars faded away. He spun it in his hand before catching it in a two-handed grip and swinging the blade at his opponent.
Geralt came up on all fours as Pit began forming the bow in his hand, and when his head raised to see him pulling back his arms, he pushed with all his might and clumsily launched himself at Pit’s hips, hoping to knock him off balance and tackle him to the ground. From there, he could punch, he could try and draw his dagger and force a submission, he had options but first he had to make sure that damn bow didn’t take his face.
His strategy worked out, as Pit clearly hadn't expected such a move. It was completely unrefined and a hail mary, but it worked. Pit went down with a yelp, his attack sailing over Geralt's head. He landed on his back kicking, but it would take more than that to dislodge the Witcher. Pit separated the two halves of the bow, preparing to fend the man off.
Geralt performed no fancy move, no clever trick once he was on top of Pit. He simply punched the soldier in the face once, then twice, giving enough pause to make sure he wasn’t seriously injuring him before cocking back to punch again and again. He’d found that it was a remarkably effective strategy, blunt force trauma to the head.
It was a pretty effective pin all things considered. Somewhere in the back of Pit's mind he was thankful he had such a thick skull, or so he'd been told. Dazed, the angel did the only thing that came to mind to break free - he flipped the two swords into a reverse grip in each hand and then drove them into the body above him, one in the crook between Geralt's shoulder and neck and the other into his side.
Pit drove his blades into Geralt, the one going for his side crashing into armor and sliding along it safely. The blade aimed at his neck, however, managed to slip up and over his armor, and Geralt felt a strange and unexpected warmth on his neck and chest a moment later- and a coldness in his chest. A familiar feeling, actually, though the warmth was different from last time.
Oh. He was hurt. Badly. Geralt felt one hand come up to his neck while the other groped around, trying to steady him as he slid to the side and off of Pit’s body. He pressed his hand against the wound, trying to keep his blood inside him, but he felt his eyes getting heavy and he slumped off of Pit as they closed.
The angel laid still for a few moments, taking a few deep breaths. Then he shook his head to clear it and sat up, wondering why Geralt was still lying there. He'd expected a follow up attack by now, but the man was still. That tackle was a little much, but surely he wouldn't feign being really hurt just to get the jump on him, right?
Pit crawled closer to check, and then noted the blood beginning to pool around Geralt's body. His seemingly lifeless body. The shock hit Pit all at once, nearly paralyzing him.
What?! Is he... did I...?!Leaving the two halves of the bow behind Pit scrambled forward, gripping the man's shoulders tight. Being an angel, he could usually tell if someone was dead or alive, given he could sense their soul in their body. Right now he couldn't, which freaked him out even more.
"H-hey, that's not supposed to happen!" he said, shaking Geralt in a vain effort to rouse him. The thought that he might have actually killed a human made the boy feel sick.
"Oh no, no no, Lady Palutena…"Geralt dully felt Pit grab onto his shoulders through the blackness. Something…was happening. He could tell that much. He heard Pit’s voice grow clearer, and after a moment, his eyes opened and he took a deep breath, hands coming up to his face and feeling it. One slipped down to where the wound had been, and came up with dried flecks of blood on it. The wound had completely healed.
"Huh?! Y-you're alright, ri-?!"Shoving Pit off him with a punch to the face, Geralt rolled to the side and pushed himself to his feet. “I…should be dead. I felt it. I felt myself bleeding to death.” Examining the blood on his fingers, he frowned. “And then I felt…an energy? It was like the feeling of drinking Swallow, only a hundred times stronger.” Rubbing his fingers together to flake off more of the blood, he looked back to Pit.
“I have no idea how that happened.”
Pit was sat on the stone, numbly holding his cheek where Geralt had decked him. He was so completely relieved that he almost looked melted, with his free arm and wings drooped low to the ground.
"No you are not supposed to be dead, 'cause that isn't..!" he sighed, trailing off. It was true that in Smash Bros. tourneys even those fighting with swords, arrows, guns, grenades, bombs, etc. there were certain protections in place. Technically, Smash City Alcamoth was not the same place. An oversight on his part, probably.
"Well I don't have the power to bring people back to life, so it must have been from you." He hesitated before speaking again, ducking his head in shame.
"And, um. S-sorry."Geralt took a few more deep breaths, wondering what Pit was about to say before cutting himself off. While it was true this was just a spar, not being careful in spars had gotten people killed before. He wouldn’t have been the first.
Still, he was here, alive, when he shouldn’t have been. “I wonder if it has to do with the Spirits I’ve absorbed. I’ve had close calls before, but that was different.” He looked truly devastated. He’d definitely seen what happened to him. “Ah.” He realized after a moment that he’d punched Pit in his panicked state. “Sorry about your face. Again.” He added the last word after realizing he’d punched him quite a few times before their spar ended. “Might have gone overboard with the punching.”
Pit shook his head again. As far as he was concerned, there was no need for an apology from the man, even if his face would look swollen until they found a healer. Things had gotten pretty intense toward the end. Still understandably rattled, Pit stood up carefully. He brought his wings up and draped them over his shoulders not unlike a comforting cape.
"Well whatever it was, I'm really glad you're okay," he said earnestly.
Geralt nodded at Pit’s admission. “Well, that was one hell of a spar. Not something I’ll forget for quite a while, I’ll say.” That was quite the understatement, all things considered. He had no desire to repeat the experience or keep fighting. “How should we call it?”
At first Pit was confused by the question. They should call it done and over with. The match started off fine but ended in near-disaster, so maybe they could call it that - a disaster. Then he realized what Geralt actually meant, and was so flabbergasted by it that he said off-handedly,
"Isn't that obvious?" Then when he heard his own voice both of his hands flew up to cover his mouth.
“I feel it’s rather poor manners to stab your sparring partner in the throat, but fair enough, you did technically win it.” Geralt conceded with a nod. “Bowser probably would have laughed it off, so we’ll put it down to my unfortunate nature as a human, mutant or no.” He gave a shrug and gestured back to where they’d come from. “Let’s head back. I’ll have to give this armor a good scrub down.”
"Aagh, wait wait!" Pit flapped after him as they started back for the exit. The bow disappeared in a quick flash of gold behind them, spotless despite what had happened. The angel nearly had to jog to keep up with Geralt's longer stride, though it looked more like he was hopping up and down next to him. Pit's hands were moving animatedly as he rambled,
"I'm really really sorry! I didn't even know that could happen! Usually when we fight on stamina mode and someone hits zero they just kinda go poof in a ball of light and then they're fine and - and I guess this kind of situation would disqualify someone, right? And we didn’t hear the announcer say “game” and - "It went on for a little longer, nervous babbling mixed with apologies. Geralt just barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Relax. I’m alright. Not quite sure how, and it’s going to be a right pain to get the blood out, but I’m alright. Not even the first time I’ve gotten my throat cut, though I managed to walk out of that one without it miraculously healing on me. Damn near killed me that time, too.” Geralt just kept going, paying no attention to Pit’s excited mannerisms. He was already somewhat used to this sort of thing with Sakura.
“How about this? We don’t tell my wife what happened, and it’s all forgiven. Know you didn’t mean it. Like I said, probably went overboard with the hits to the head. Can make even the wisest man act a fool, if only for a moment.” Geralt’s face betrayed that he wasn’t
entirely over what had happened, but there wasn’t enough tension to indicate that he was truly mad about it, either. He’d need a night to rest on it, think about how that had happened, but it would be alright.
That moment where Pit was over him, though. He’d nearly lost it. If his first instinct hadn’t been to get away… he didn’t want to think of what might have happened.
At the mention of a wife Pit froze with wide eyes, and then actually did do a few leaps to catch up again.
That lady was his wife?! Every time he saw her around the Alcamoth from now on he was sure he'd feel a pang of guilt, but they were terms he could accept.
"Alright, I won't say a word," he said, drawing a hand across his mouth to imply he was zipping it closed. Then, with determination he said,
"And I'll - make it up to you somehow so you really can forgive me."Rolling his eyes, Geralt just gave a short chuckle. “Sure, if you say so.”
Izurich
Archmage MC
Forsythe