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    Summary

    It wasn’t often that Geralt had the luxury of true rest. Case in point: the nest of monstrously large venomous spiders he was currently slashing through. Silk sheets? The closest Geralt had gotten in many years was the shimmering spider silk he was now pulling off himself in great swathes. A face mask? Maybe getting acid spit in your face was someone’s idea of a skin care routine, but it wasn’t Geralt’s.

    The mud bath, at least, he partook in regularly.
    --
    TL;DR Geralt gets a spa day and his ass eaten.

    Language:
    English
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