There you are. At last. Gods, what cesspool have you dragged yourself through? And you
think that you can just show up like that? What is it you are holding in front of you,
like a shield anyway? Basilisk skin! My darling, I cannot believe that you have really put
yourself in such a grave danger. Diving headfirst into some nice armpit, swarming with carnivorous
eels, jaggedy glitches, and what not, simply because you wanted your woman to have a new
pair of pretty shoes. Idiot. You know that I'd much rather not have another pair of those
stupid Basilisk skin shoes and spend hours patching you up now. And that I can afford
dressing you in Basilisk skin, head to toe, if you only let me. To say nothing of the
fact that your collection of scars is extensive enough as it is, and I don't want it to grow
any bigger on my account. Unlike some other things. Stip capable of grinning at a cruel
joke. Good. Looks like you'll live after all. And don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm
not grateful. I am. Please tell me that you didn't do that just for the shoes. Good. Did
they pay you well, at least? But they let you keep the skin. Marvelous. How fucking jealous of them. Well, at least you survived. You'll be the death of me. So, first things first, bath now.
You stink. Take it all off this instant. In the name of Wanda, you cannot even move your left arm now. Let me help you out of it. Why do I not keep a maid? We'll have to cut through this shirt, too.
Turn around. Nice. These scratches are half inch deep. It's like you've spent a night with... I don't know if you could see them. No, you won't be more careful next time anyway. You don't do careful.
If you have no regard for my feelings and your own flesh, think of this nice coat. I know you. Deep down, you are as much of a dandy as your friends, the bloody Borgd. You're just too proud to admit it.
You'll need a new one. Coat, not friend. Speaking of whom, he stopped by the other day. He was looking for you. The idiot still winks at me sometimes. He cannot help it, even knowing that he couldn't possibly handle me.
Maybe I should find out if he's really as good as he boasts, and sleep with him after all. Don't you grab me like that when you haven't yet taken your bath. You want to ruin my dress, too? Maybe.
The fourth word you spoke since you arrived. I just love your eloquence. In the bath, now. Don't move, I'll help you.
I'm really looking forward to the day when you finally lose some muscle. These arms and shoulders scream some highly dangerous profession. A tailor or a baker wouldn't have such a chest, either.
You do look good naked, in spite of all the scars. Or maybe because of them. Stand up. Easy, easy. You're splashing water all over the floor.
Well, hello. I cannot believe it. You are half alive, half-blood, and half-asleep, yet this hard. A huge, huge compliment.
One can say, of course, that you are that tough. But let me, just for the moment, think that I am that charming. Sit down again, I'm not finished.
Let's make this hair the color they are supposed to be. I like your hair, you know. I'm not wasting the soup. I'm doing us both a favor. I'm not taking to the bed someone this filthy.
Literally. If you sit that way, I'll waste more on you in some while, too. Later. I'm puffy. So that when you leave tomorrow, everyone you meet on your way will know that you have spent the night with a very, very fine leaf.
I like it when you lay back like that. Eyes closed, hair clinging to your shoulders with strings. A beast at rest. Rest while you can.
When you finally get yourself killed, I shall be very, very sad. Now, get out of the water.
Wait a bit. Wait. Wait. You still need tending. And cover up.
Your butt is just a bit too distracting. Lay back, put your arm here and be still. All right. Here, bite down on this. No? Fine, as you will. But this might sting. Like a bitch.
Here you are, taking it all like a witcher. I'd ask what they put in the water in Kaer Morhen, but I know exactly what. Are you sure you don't want something to bite down on for the stitching? Don't play hero. I already know you're tough.
For the last time, do you want something? No, my neck won't do. All right, all right. Be still.
Now off with the sheet. Let those minor scratches breathe too. Well, well, well. Now I understand why you're not bleeding anymore. That's where all the blood went. Really? Now?
Tempting, though. Quite tempting. One sword for the monsters, one sword for the humans, and this one for me. Shame to waste it, huh?
Do you mind if I, like a friend would painfully corny call it, do you mind if I just sheath myself on it?
Oh, I missed this.
The only thing, perhaps, that makes us really look like humans. If someone picked through this winter now, someone on very long stilts, it's only a man. A stunningly handsome man, by the way.
And a beautiful, beautiful woman, idyllically riding you, grinding your hips against his, gliding your palms with fingers spread wide all over his chest, his face, running her fingers through his hair, and leaning in from time to time to kiss him long and deep.
All the while moving slowly up and down, up and down, up and down, like a flower on slightly troubled waters.
Little would you know about who we really are, just a little fucking far from an idyllic romance this is. Shhh, no talking. We'll fight later, when you are better.
Just take it now for what it is. Imagine yourself inside some ballad, where everything is so much prettier than in the real world, as we know it.
You came to me, smelling like a pig, then. You leave this room, smelling like sex, like me. Please, lay still.
And keep your hands to yourself, too. I can take care of my own pleasure. Tonight is about you. Take it as part of the healing process. Give in, give in. Don't hold back.
Don't hold back and come. Come and sleep. Regain your strength and then talk. I cannot let all your suffering go to waste. Come to think of it, we'll have shoes made after all.
You remembered that I wore such shoes the day we first met. And that means something. Well, I didn't actually wear them, but you know.
I'll even let slide the idea that you should bring me something, anything, beside yourself. Yes, I did have a terrible case of moving after the apple juice that you brought me was very useful.
But it's different. Don't be a pig. So, we'll have a new pair made and I shall wear them to dinner, napping by the shoes and bed later.
When you're hopefully a bit more feisty, a bit more rough, a bit more passionate and alive and awake.
Sleep.
With you. I like you a lot.
