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Geralt often found himself in strange situations. In fact, he had been in countless strange situations. Almost every part of his life was a strange situation. The situation he was in now, however, was certainly high up there on the list of strange situations.
Never, in his entire witcher career, did he think he would be sharing a camp with a vampire. A higher vampire, at that. A monster who would have no problem mercilessly ripping him - and all of his friends - to shreds, were he so inclined. And yet here he was.
The melodious voice of Dandelion rang throughout the forest they were situated in, his fingers plucking gracefully at the strings of his lute as the rest of the party casually gathered around to listen. Geralt, who was seated far off, his back to the group, ground his teeth together. If he doesn't shut up, we'll be found out, he thought. We're all going to die because of this fucking bard.
Of course, there was also the vampire to worry about. Though nobody else seemed to be very worried about it.
Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy - the higher vampire in question - was situated in front of Dandelion, a mug of herbal tea in his hands as he watched the bard perform. Beside him sat Milva and Cahir, who were absentmindedly picking at their food. Dandelion stood up and spun around, making a grand show of his performance as he continued to sing. Regis smiled, his lips pursed as he leaned back to avoid being hit in the face by the neck of Dandelion's lute.
Geralt would occasionally sneak glances at the group to make sure things were going okay. When Regis had moved his mug to his lips, Geralt's hand began to instinctively reach for his sword before he realised the vampire had done nothing wrong. The witcher would be dammed if his friends had been harmed because of the monster he had allowed in their ranks. He'd rather be too careful than too careless.
When Dandelion finished his song he bowed deeply, his right hand on his chest and his left flourishing upwards. Regis set down his mug and began to clap politely, Milva and Cahir clapping as well (Though seemingly only in response to the vampire doing so first).
"Bravo, Dandelion," Regis smiled again, his eyes crinkling as he did so. "You are truly a master at your craft."
"Aren't I?" Dandelion boasted as he stood up straight, clearly flattered by the compliment but masking it as pride and confidence instead. "I am often sought after for my impeccable talents, my vampire friend. I'm glad your monster senses haven't deprived you of good taste."
"Oh, I don't doubt it," Regis replied, reaching for his mug again. Geralt tensed at the movement. Regis's eyes flickered briefly at the sulking witcher, and Geralt quickly looked away. Regis bit the inside of his cheek, gaze lingering on the witcher for a moment before looking back at Dandelion and flashing another closed-lip smile. "Only a deaf man would not seek you out."
Geralt could certainly tell why Dandelion so easily tolerated Regis's presence, despite the bard's timid nature. Geralt was irritated by that.
"Deaf, or smart?" Milva commented, taking a bite of the food she had been playing with. Dandelion waved her off, chin in the air as he spoke.
"Ah, Milva, you have not an ounce of musical talent, so this doesn't surprise me," he sighed. Milva rolled her eyes and turned away.
"And what of you, Geralt?" Regis suddenly addressed the witcher, who stiffened at the sound of his name. "How did you enjoy Master Dandelion's performance?"
The air around them seemed to thicken, and everyone could feel the sudden tension. The sound of wind rustling the leaves of the trees surrounding them was suddenly deafening. Geralt was silent for a long time, long enough that Dandelion was about to deflect the question. Geralt did, however, eventually reply - his voice low and strained, clearly not wanting to be a part of this conversation.
"S'fine."
Dandelion released a breath of relief. "You see? Even Geralt has taste in music."
"He's just used to it," Cahir pointed out, leaning further back on the log he was up against. Dandelion shot him a look.
"Okay, okay, laugh it up," Dandelion retorted. "But I am incredibly talented in the eyes of many, whether you like it or not. And I'm inclined to believe you all feel this way about me as well!" Before anyone could make any more snide remarks, Dandelion packed up his lute and carefully set it on the ground beside him. "Well, my good men," he bowed at Milva, "...and ladies." Milva rolled her eyes. "It's time I retire for a night's rest. That performance tuckered me out."
"Agreed," Milva yawned, stretching her arms above her head and setting her now empty bowl on the ground. Dandelion, Cahir, and Milva set out to prepare their beds for the night, Cahir stomping out the remnants of their dying campfire. Dandelion glanced at the vampire, who was looking at Geralt, seemingly deep in thought. The bard cleared his throat.
"Coming, Regis?"
Regis did not respond right away, his gaze set on the back of the witcher. After a moment, he turned back to acknowledge the one addressing him. "Of course," Regis smiled, moving to stand up. He did not miss the witcher's quick, yet subtle, reaction to the movement, or the way his shoulders tensed in preparation. The corner of Regis's lips twitched; a barely perceptible movement. "Let us rest for the night."
Dandelion had known Geralt for a long time. Many, many years of learning his mannerisms, his coping mechanisms, reading his expressions. There were times when his knowledge on the witcher proved useful, at least in his opinion. This was one of those times.
Geralt was exhausted.
The signs were subtle. He would slouch at times while riding, often rubbing his face with his hands and biting at his lip. He would stare blankly for a few seconds before blinking rapidly and momentarily sitting up a little straighter. His eye would often twitch, and it would occasionally take a few tries to get his attention. Many would not even notice, but Dandelion's wealth of experience with the witcher has made him hyper-aware.
Milva, Cahir, and Regis were riding together as a group, chatting and sharing stories. Many questions were directed at Regis; asking where he has traveled, about his history, and many questions involving vampiric nature, including personal details - most of which were cleverly evaded. Either the two humans were aware of this evasion and knew when to stop pushing, or they were simply easy to redirect.
Dandelion slowed to ride behind the group, deliberately slowing to a pace as to ride beside Geralt. The witcher didn't respond. He either didn't care to acknowledge the bard, or he simply didn't even notice. Neither option would surprise Dandelion.
"Geralt," Dandelion began in a voice not loud enough to interrupt the chatter in front of them. Geralt blinked and looked at Dandelion, his eyes dark; if Dandelion didn't know any better, he'd think the look was a warning. And it very well could have been, but the bard was not deterred. "Have you even been sleeping?"
"Of course I have," Geralt mumbled, looking away from him and focusing on Roach's mane. Dandelion snorted.
"There is beauty in being a poet," he began, raising a thoughtful hand to his chest, "and in that beauty lies the ability to see through bullshit. You'll excuse my bluntness."
Geralt did not look up. "Fuck off."
Dandelion let out a deep sigh. "Oh, Geralt, Geralt, Geralt. You're even moodier than normal. It's Regis, right?" Dandelion noticed Geralt glance at the vampire in question at the mention of his name. It was silent for a few moments.
"...You can't seriously tell me you trust him, can you?" He finally replied. Dandelion glanced at Regis, who was currently smiling - lips pursed, as always. Dandelion knew what would be revealed should Regis ever show his teeth - he's heard the tales, and had even seen them on one occasion - and the fact that he hid them anyway made the bard feel quite grateful.
"Well... he's done nothing but help us," Dandelion replied after studying the vampire for a few seconds. His gaze returned to Geralt. "Isn't that enough?"
"I don't want anyone hurt, Dandelion."
"Anyone, you say? Even Cahir?"
Geralt narrowed his eyes. "Mm. If he's going to be killed, I wouldn't want it to be by the vampire in our group."
"So, you really think Regis would kill us? But he patched me up! And he'd have no problem helping us out again, I'm sure."
"He would also have no problem reducing us all to scraps of flesh."
"That is, if he wanted to. Which I don't think he does."
Geralt turned to face Dandelion in his saddle, eyes locking with the bards, his gaze piercing. The sudden movement caught Dandelion off guard. "You don't think he does?" He growled. "You don't know anything about him. None of us do. He's a vampire, Dandelion. A monster. I don't care how many years you've been a poet, or how much experience that's given you in reading people. You have no experience reading the motives of a monster."
It was silent after that. The two were left staring each other down, Geralt suddenly feeling hot in his burst of sudden rage. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned to sit normally in his saddle once more. For once, Dandelion was left speechless.
"For all anyone knows, his story about his blood abstinence could be utter shit," the witcher's voice was low, as if trying to reclaim his sense of control. "Maybe he's trying to build trust, and then he'll drink us all dry later."
"Do... do vampires do that?" Dandelion lowered his head, keeping his voice quiet, barely above a whisper.
"I don't know," Geralt answered truthfully. "Higher vampires aren't something you come across often. If at all."
The rest of the journey was silent.
Regis looked back at them and smiled.
Geralt's grip on Roach's reins tightened.
The group had stopped again for the night. The stillness of the air was almost eerie, but it was calming all the same. They were situated beside a running stream, campfire positioned safely beside it, emitting a soft, orange glow. Shadows danced in its light, and Geralt couldn't believe he hadn't noticed Regis's lack of shadow until it was pointed out to him. It seemed so obvious now.
Said vampire was currently sitting on a log beside Dandelion, who was sitting a few inches further from him than he had been a few nights before. It was impossible to tell if Regis didn't notice, or if he simply chose not to acknowledge it. Milva and Cahir were seated on the ground in front of them, all digging into the fish broth they had recently made.
Geralt, of course, was further away, eyes locked onto Regis. Whenever Regis would glance in Geralt's direction, Geralt would look away to make himself look less painfully obvious.
"So," Dandelion began, slowly swirling the bowl of food in his hand. "Monsters. Scary, right?"
Cahir and Milva momentarily stopped eating to look up at the troubadour with quizzical expressions. Regis didn't stop eating, but made a small humming noise in acknowledgment. Dandelion cleared his throat and stopped swirling his food.
"They're dangerous," he continued. He focused intensely on a piece of fish in his bowl, as if it were the most interesting piece of fish in the world. "Bloodthirsty. They kill on instinct. Usually, at least. But not always... Right?" This made Regis pause his eating. Dandelion's eyes flickered to him.
"Correct," he confirmed, looking at the bard with an unreadable expression. Dandelion bit his cheek and flashed a weary smile.
"Of course, I know," he waved a hand in the air and took a sip of his broth. "I've met many friendly monsters in my time. Like, uh... You?"
Regis continued to stare at him. After a few agonizing moments, just when the bard was starting to feel unbearably uncomfortable, he smiled. Tight-lipped, revealing nothing. Dandelion could normally read people, but maybe vampires were a bit different. Regis turned back to his broth, which was nearly empty.
"Thank you, Dandelion."
Dandelion released a breath of relief. He suddenly wished the conversation hadn't happened. All it had revealed was that he didn't have quite as tight a grasp on the vampire's emotions as he'd wished, and he had made a relatively normal moment slightly awkward. Which he wasn't opposed to doing normally, but something felt slightly different. Luckily, he was an expert at defusing tense situations. With one quick movement, he finished his meal, setting the empty bowl on the ground in front of him.
"Well, gentlemen," He began. When he looked at Milva, she scowled.
"Don't even say it."
"...and ladies."
Milva sighed heavily.
"I think it's about time I got some rest."
"Already?" Cahir inquired, rinsing his empty bowl in the stream. "You haven't even said anything poetic."
"On the contrary," Dandelion gasped, hand on his chest in faux offense. "Everything I say is poetic."
Milva barked out a laugh. Dandelion shot her a look, but she wasn't paying any attention, and was instead in the midst of joining Cahir in rinsing her bowl.
"Anyway," he continued with emphasis. "I've had a long day, and I'm tired. Is that so wrong?"
Cahir snorted. "Oh, you've had a long day?" Dandelion huffed.
"Well, you're all free to join me."
Milva looked up, glancing at the dark sky that was twinkling with stars. The moon was nearly full.
"I'll join you," she finally declared, standing and stretching an arm across her chest. "There's nothing to do, anyway." Cahir nodded in agreement, putting the freshly cleaned bowls into their packs.
"And you, Regis?" Dandelion asked, turning to look at the vampire. Regis had been studying the witcher, seemingly quite intensely, but he snapped out of it at the sound of his name. He stood and nodded, hands clasped together thoughtfully. The smile he wore revealed the prominent crinkles by his eyes.
"Of course, but I will join you all in a moment. I have a matter to attend to first."
The party glanced at Geralt, and then at Regis, seeming to know exactly what the vampire was wanting to do. None of them wanted to be awake to witness the conversation that was undoubtedly about to take place. That is, if Geralt would even allow it to take place. Either way, they did not want to be around.
"Okay, sure," Dandelion spoke carefully, pointlessly readjusting the hat on his head. He cleared his throat. "Well, feel free to join us any time. Obviously."
And with that, the group of three began setting up their beds for the night. And Regis approached the witcher.
Geralt was, very evidently, not exactly pleased. His head was lowered but his eyes were firmly set on Regis - distrusting. Regis was not swayed.
"Geralt," Regis nodded in greeting.
Geralt was silent, locking eyes with the vampire. He could see the moonlight reflecting in Regis's eyes, dark as ink, and was suddenly aware of how... unaware he was, in regards to moon phases and vampire powers. He didn't know if it would present a problem. In fact, he knew very little about higher vampires at all. True higher vampires, at least. Higher vampires like Regis. The ignorance made this whole situation that much worse. His jaw tightened.
"I understand you're on edge," Regis began slowly, snapping Geralt out of his thoughts, "and I can't help thinking it's because of me."
"What gave you that idea?" Geralt muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm at a barely audible volume. But he had a feeling Regis would have no problem hearing it. The vampire smiled. Geralt hated when he did that.
"I've seen the way you look at me," Regis sat down in front of the witcher, whose eyes were carefully trained on him. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a lovesick maiden."
"But you know better," Geralt snapped, his voice almost a growl. Regis let out a breathy laugh.
"But I know better," he confirmed.
Geralt was silent.
"You know," Regis continued, glancing up at the stars, "in my younger years, I had taken the night sky for granted."
( "It's a full moon, my dear Emiel!"
"Ahh, and on this occasion, my dear friends, we must indulge ourselves in the finest of delicacies..."
"Drink! Drink! Drink!"
"And who will accompany me tonight?"
"Don't be silly, Emiel, with questions like that!"
"Where has it gone? Ah, here..."
"Drink! Drink! Drink!" )
Geralt raised an eyebrow. Regis noticed the barely perceptible movement through the thoughts phasing in and out of his mind. He took in a small breath, an unnecessary one as his tongue absentmindedly swiped over his teeth, as if tasting memories long past, but he did not stop telling his story.
"I would venture out at night often. At first, it was with other vampires; there was no time for appreciating scenery with them. However, as you well know, I began venturing out alone. I would often leave at night so as not to be spotted by humans, or any other possible distractions. But in all my time of adventure, not once did I stop to appreciate the stars."
( Senses overwhelmed. Heart pounding unnecessarily in his ears. Where is it? He can smell it. He can feel it.
It must be here somewhere.
Form immaterial, senses heightened as he prowls the night in a haze.
Drink, drink, drink...
No one around. No one to stop him. No one to delay him.
He finds his target. He attacks. He drinks.
In the distance he hears a scream, disembodied and agonized. He feels nothing. He drinks.
His mind is foggy and unfocused. He simply wants to drink. That is all he will do. That is all he can do.
Drink, drink, drink... )
"What's your point?" Geralt finally spoke up, his voice hard and focused. Regis blinked himself out of his thoughts, his mind temporarily cleared of ancient memories. He stopped looking at the sky and instead looked at Geralt, crossing his legs and leaning back on his hands.
"My point?" He began, smile clear on his face. "My point, dear witcher, is that I've come to appreciate them."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"I've lived many years, Geralt. You know this. I'm sure it's very prominent to you. Not in appearances, perhaps, but I've no doubt you've had lots of time to mull over my... vampiric attributes. Age being one of them."
He did not respond.
"I've had a great deal of time and ample opportunity to think and to change," the vampire's voice was calm, almost soothing. There was not an ounce of unease or uncertainty in its tone. "Perhaps at one point, I was not the ideal traveling companion. For anyone, mind you, not just humans. But that time has passed. I've told you already that I've given up blood-drinking for good, and it was the truth. I have not had an ounce in years, my good friend. Many, many years, and I don't plan on it. I've had time to think, I've had time to change, and I have come to appreciate the stars."
With that, Regis stood up. Geralt's eyes were still set on him, but Regis could see that they were not as hard as they had been mere moments before. Regis gave a slight bow of his head.
"Goodnight, Geralt. I will see you tomorrow."
Regis left, footsteps hardly making a sound as he strode through the soft grass. He watched as the vampire kicked dirt over the dying fire that had been left in the camp, leaving the area in complete darkness, lit only by the glaring moonlight. Geralt was left with nothing but his thoughts and the soft sound of the stream that was trickling beside him.
He wasn't sure what to think. His mind was scattered, a jumbled mess, mulling over the words that Regis had said to him. His heart was beating strangely and abnormally fast. He didn't understand it - he couldn't understand it, why this single conversation seemed to have such a great effect on him. He wondered if the vampire's mysterious and foreign nature was partly to blame for it. Geralt shivered.
That night, however, regardless of his thoughts, he had the best sleep he'd had in days.
Geralt was noticeably more energized the next morning, much to Dandelion's utter relief. The tired, grumpy old man act was starting to get tiring.
...Well, Geralt still possessed some of the same qualities. But those would always be there.
They added to his charm.
Regardless, Dandelion wasted no time in finding an adequate moment on the road to discuss things with Geralt. He wanted to know the details of the discussion that took place last night, mostly because he had heard considerably less yelling than he expected.
It had been about an hour since they set off for the day, and Dandelion was riding beside Geralt. Regis was on Geralt's other flank, and Dandelion was surprised to see the witcher twitching significantly less in agitation. In fact, he seemed quite... relaxed. Dandelion's gaze shifted from Geralt to Regis, who recognized the expression on the bard's face. He flashed him a quick smile, as he was wont to do, and rode ahead of the two. Dandelion was grateful for the vampire's ability to read expressions. At least, he was willing to believe that's what it was, and not that Regis was simply reading his mind. The bard wasn't exactly an expert on vampire abilities. Dandelion cleared his throat when they were finally left alone. Well, relatively alone, given the circumstances.
"So..." He began, looking expectantly at Geralt, who was staring straight ahead.
"So...?" He repeated. Dandelion sighed heavily, putting on a show of being as dramatic as possible.
"So, what happened last night?"
The witcher snorted. "I'm sure, Dandelion, that whatever happened last night is far off from what you're thinking."
Dandelion furrowed his brow, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he began to understand what he was implying. He slouched in his saddle, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead with his fingers.
"That is not what I meant," he clarified in annoyance. "You know damn well what I meant! And besides, I didn't even hear anything like that, not in the slightest. And I know-"
"Got it," Geralt interrupted him with a deep sigh, face contorted in a grimace, having no interest in hearing the bard explain why his offhanded remark was illogical. "Nothing happened. We talked, that's it."
"Well, yes," Dandelion rolled his eyes. "Of course you talked. What did he say?"
Geralt thought back to his conversation with the vampire. He saw, in his mind's eye, the expression on Regis's face as he gazed at the stars, seemingly entranced by them as he recounted his story. His eyes had been filled with an emotion that was difficult for Geralt to discern. It was almost melancholic, wistful, and not something Geralt was expecting to see. He was so used to a sort of smugness being present in the vampire's features; an expression that told everyone around him that he carried with him a wealth of knowledge and was always ready to make use of it. But that expression was not present in his features last night, not one trace of it. And it was in that moment - that one, single conversation - that Geralt realised something. He understood, then, that Regis was a monster, but he was not monstrous. There was something about that expression that made Geralt certain of it. A past of bad decisions did not equate to a bad person, even when in reference to monsters. Geralt hadn't realised it before.
But he did now.
The corners of Geralt's lips twitched.
"He said," the witcher began, glancing at the vampire who was riding in front of them, "that he has come to appreciate the stars."