Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Philippa's Grace	By : ArizonaIceT Category: +S through Z > Witcher 3: Wild Hunt Views: 8358 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Witcher, this is purely for fun, and not profit

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
“Where is this supposed village at?” Philippa whined.

“It’s only been an hour, Philippa. We should be there soon.” Geralt answered.

The pair had just left Vizima and the Emperor, new information, destination, and goal in hand. Ciri. She was back, and they were going to find her.

But first, they had a job to do. Steadhaven, a village outside of Vizima. They needed a Witcher. Under normal circumstances, Geralt would've made a b-line straight to the agent who had information on Ciri, but as it stood, he had very little money. Normally that wouldn’t have bothered him, but he had precious cargo in tow. Two of them to be exact. Roughing it as he usually did just wasn’t an option.

The pair arrived at Steadhaven, or what Geralt assumed was Steadhaven. The village was in absolute shambles. Looked as if a twister had hit it. Buildings leveled and burnt, the road trampled and misshapen; while White Orchard had seen better days, this village looked as if it was dying. He didn’t know which army marched through there, but they did a number on it.

As they slowly trotted to the center of the village, or what Geralt presumed to be the center of the village, Geralt noticed a group of men eying him and Philippa. They looked nervous. Nervous men sometimes did dumb things. They whispered to each other before leaving and disappearing behind what looked like a tavern. After a few seconds, they reappeared on the other side of the tavern, moving to the road to block the path of their horses. They were holding axes, bits of wood, and a PITCHFORK.

Geralt frowned, knowing where this was going. Philippa arched an eyebrow at the scene, not intimidated in the slightest.

“Gentlemen” Geralt said sarcastically, stopping Roach from going any further. The men all looked anxious. “Nice to know some places still do town greetings.”

“What is your business here?” One man asked, stepping forward. The other men filed in behind him, emboldened by him but also clearly waiting for him to advise them on their next move.

“Our business is our business.” Philippa chimed in from behind Geralt. The Witcher looked over his shoulder at the witch. While he appreciated her moxy, it wasn’t helping at the moment.

“I’m not talking to you woman.” The villager said.

“Hey!” Geralt barked, making the man jump. “Be polite to the lady, friend. Address me.”

“I’m not your FRIEND. We’re sick of all you outsiders. Look at what’s been done to our village.” The villager ranted. The men behind him nodded and grunted in agreement. “Now tell us who you are, turn back the way you came, or things will get ugly.”

This was beginning to annoy Geralt. Man always had to make a show of everything, be suspicious, be paranoid. He had half a mind to hop off his horse, and cut through them like butter. But that was the baser part of him. The reactionary part. He looked around and saw the state these men’s home was in; disarray and despair. The men themselves looked sickly, skinny, some with wounds that didn’t look like they healed quite right. These villagers were scared, not just of him. Of everything that might come through and finish what the war had started.

Geralt took a deep breath to calm himself before he spoke again. “I’m a Witcher. I was told that you had a monster problem.”

The villagers looked surprised by this. They looked at each other, mumbling in confusion.

“Told by whom?” The lead villager asked, still suspicious.

“Branson. The dwarf blacksmith at the palace.” Geralt answered.

The villagers literally let out sighs of relief. They relaxed, dropping their weapons, looking ragged that they had to even pick them up in the first place.

“Gods man, why didn’t you say that to begin with? We could’ve killed you.” The man said, placing his hands on his knees.

“Well...you would’ve tried.” Geralt retorted smoothly. The lead villager eyed him, then let out a bark of laughter.

“Tough guy, aye? Good. We need a tough guy right now. Name’s Herman.”

“Geralt. And she’s….Philys.”

Philippa gave him a strange look at her new moniker, but said nothing. Luckily Herman didn’t seem too interested in details about her.

“Well come on into the tavern, what’s left of it anyway.” Herman invited. Philippa and Geralt dismounted their horses and tied them off. They followed Herman into the tavern - it looked like it’d been ransacked. It probably was. Herman flipped one of the many overturned tables upright, and grabbed chairs for them to sit.

“Well, welcome to the beautiful Steadhaven.” Herman said bitterly.
“Lovely town.” Philippa replied, voice flat. Herman just scoffed

“It was a shithole that turned into a crater. But it’s home.” Herman sighed.

“You the leader here?” Geralt asked. The mob that greeted them seemed to fall in line behind him. Herman just snorted derisively.

“Leader? No...least not in any official capacity. I was just a woodcutter. Still am, but those soldiers came through here, and a lot of important and strong people went missing or ended up dead. I’m just the best of what’s left.” Herman said disdainfully.

“So about your monster problem. What’s the scenario? What am I dealing with.” Geralt pushed.

“About that...thing is we don’t rightly know.” Herman admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Geralt quirked an eyebrow and Philippa pursed her lips into a thin line.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Geralt pushed.

“I mean we don’t know.” Herman repeated. “Look around you. Everything is in disarray. We don’t know our asses from elbows right now. The soldiers displaced a lot of people. Some found their way back. Others-“

Herman let the implication sit in the air.

“Simply put, we had some people go missing over the last fortnight. Usually while going out to trade, supply runs.“ Herman continued. “We thought it could’ve been bandits, or some soldier boys going into business for themselves-“

“But…” Philippa interjected.

“-but nothing was ever taken. Wagons full of goods left to spoil on the side of the road, but not a trace of the person… or horses for that matter.”

Geralt leaned back in his chair, face tight in contemplation, for a minute.

“Look, I know it isn’t much to go on-” Herman began.

“Your beast is likely grounded, not able to fly. They must feed on man, but aren't particularly picky, hence the missing horses as well. Also they must be strictly carnivorous to leave carts of what I assume to be some form of grain or produce. That narrows down the number of creatures it could be in this region. Plus, with the wetness in the air, and proximity to a body of water - looks like you might have a Water Hag on the loose.” Geralt said.

Herman looked at Geralt in shock.

“I- you figured all that out from that? He asked. Geralt just shrugged.

“Been doing this a long time, friend.” The Witcher answered.

“And he's very good at his job.” Philippa added, honestly impressed with his skills of deduction when it came to Witchering. Geralt smiled internally at her complement.
“Well you seem to know more than those Black Ones we had stumbling around here.” Herman stated. “So, let’s get down to business. How much is this going to cost us? We don’t exactly have much here.”

“We’ll discuss that after I see the full extent of your monster problem. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you destitute. I’m fair.” Geralt said.

“But not CHEAP.” Philippa added. Geralt looked over his shoulder and frowned slightly. Philippa returned his look, unbothered by his glare. Regardless, Herman seemed satisfied with his answer.

“I can point you in the direction of the last wagon. It’s south, towards the river. Where the trees split.”

Geralt nodded his head and stood, and Philippa followed suit. They exited the tavern and walked to their horses.

“Philippa, maybe you should stay here at the tavern.” Geralt suggested. Philippa looked at him like he was crazy.

“I beg your pardon?” She said haughtily.

“Don’t know how long this will take. Witchering isn’t a fun business. Might get messy, literally and figuratively.”

“You don’t think I can handle myself? Have you lost your memories again and forgotten who I am?”

“Of course not. It’s just-” Geralt didn’t finish his sentence. Letting his eyes rake over Philippa form. ”It’d be safer if you stayed here.

Philippa’s face softened, picking up on the implicit meaning of his look.

“I told you, I’m not a figurine. I can take care of myself. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.” She insisted. “Plus, I’ll have a big strong Witcher to look after me.” She teased lightly. Geralt just snorted. “Besides, how bad can a Water Hag be?”

“Have you ever encountered one?”

“No. I tend not to spend my free time in backwood swamps.” She said aristocratically.

“Well, they’re nothing to joke about. Most are a head taller than me. Strong, fast, and smarter than they’ve any right to be.” Geralt warned. “I have an eight inch scar on my forearm as testament to that.

“Well it sounds like you need all the help you can get then.”

_______________________________________________________________

The pair rode to where Herman instructed, a small bank near the river. There was a single horse wagon. The front axis was broken, the contents of the wagon were strewn about. As they got closer, an awful smell hit Philippa’s nose.

“Gods, what is that?”

Geralt took a deep inhale through his nose.

“Hag musk.” He said simply. “It’s how hags attract drowners to mate with or eat.”

“Lovely.”

Geralt got off of Roach and walked closer to the wreckage. He knelt down in the mud, looking around for something, anything that would lead them to the hag’s nest. Water Hags could move underground, through the deep mud. Made it harder to track them through traditional means, like prints.

“So what now?” Philippa asked, looking around. She didn’t see how milling about a wrecked wagon was useful.

“Mhhm. Now, we wait and hope to get lucky.” Geralt answered.

“Wait?”

“Yes. Wait. Water Hags are mostly nocturnal hunters unless there’s an obvious and easy meal in front of them. They can’t be as easily baited like a Griffin can.” Geralt explained. “Also they don’t need to feed everyday. They’re like snakes in that way. They can go days, even weeks without needing to feed again.”

Philippa frowned. She had no intention of spending WEEKS there. “Why don’t we travel up and down the river bank until we find something.” She queried.

“Big river. It’d be like looking for a singular bird in the treetops. We could walk a mile in either direction and not find anything.”

“So we just wait?”

“Water Hags and drowners are creatures of habit and territorial. They’ll often return to their ambush spots to check for any scraps. Waiting for night is our best option.”

Philippa was slightly regretting not staying in the village like offered. She hardly wanted to wait hours in the wet grass and mud for some beast that may or may not show up. Here she thought Witchering would be interesting.
_________________________________________________________________________

The two camped out in a small clearing surrounded by trees, where the river bank could still be in view. The dampness of the air made it cooler than Philippa would’ve liked as night came. Geralt wouldn’t build a fire, because it might be noticed. She cast a general warming spell on herself, but that could only do so much. She really regretted not staying in the village. Geralt just leaned against a tree, not at all bothered, or uncomfortable. In fact, he looked a bit at peace. That of course annoyed Philippa to no end.

“You glaring at me isn’t going to make this go any faster.” Geralt said.

“I have no eyes, how do you know I’m glaring?” She questioned.

“It FEELS like you are.” He answered.

“Well I’m not.”

That was a lie of course, but she wouldn’t let him know that.

“I told you to stay in the village.” Geralt reminded, hint of mischief in his voice

“Oh shut up will you.” Philippa snapped.

Having mercy on the woman, Geralt closed his mouth with a satisfied smirk, which Philippa didn’t particularly prefer either. Another few hours passed before anything happened. And then-

“Philippa-”

Philippa had dozed off at some point after hours of doing nothing but sitting.

“Philippa.”

Geralt shook her by the shoulder. Phillipa awoke, looking around. Geralt was crouched down beside her, looking intently towards the river bank.

“What?” She asked, alertness coming back to her. “What’s going on?”

“There’s movement by the wagon.” Geralt announced. “Two sets of feet.”

“How can you tell?”

Geralt just taps his ear.

“You should stay here.” He suggested. Philippa frowned at him.

“Not a chance, Witcher.”

Sensing arguing would just waste time, Geralt stood and began making his way toward the river bank. Philippa followed behind him, trying to match the silent strides Geralt made. When they got close, Geralt held out his arm, telling Philippa to stop. They could hear a pair of low, throaty growls and clicking noises.

Drowners.

Nasty buggers. Pale blue, about five feet tall and scally. Many folk thought they were the spirits of drowned humans due to their similarities, but in reality Drowners were more closely related to eels than any other species.

The Drowners were skulking around the wreckage, looking for any food scraps that may have been left - the bottom feeder in their DNA. Drowners didn’t have particularly strong good eyesight or a strong sense of smell, so they hadn’t noticed Geralt or Philippa yet. Geralt slowly took out his crossbow, pulling back the bolt as slowly and quietly as he could and began moving slowly slowly. Philippa was a step behind him, not sure what the Witcher had planned, but ready to react to anything.

*SNAP*

Philippa froze and looked down. A twig. Out of all the places she could’ve stepped, she stepped on a twig.

The Drowners went silent.

“Shit.” Geralt cursed under his breath.

One of the Drowners hopped on the wagon, staring menacingly at Philippa. The other scampered around the front and hissed at Geralt.

“Philippa, get back!” Geralt yelled, as he let a bolt loose at the Drowner facing him. The Drowner ducked out of the way and leapt at Geralt, but he was able to roll away.

Philippa had her own monster to worry about. The Drowner on the wagon looked at her angrily with its large offwhite eyes, frothing at the mouth. She wasn’t scared, but she was repulsed by the creature, taking a step back.

“Stay back, you wretched thing!” She yelled at the monster. Though it likely didn’t really understand her, the monster appeared to grow angrier at her words. It lunged out at her, scaly claws stretched out. Philippa stumbled backwards and executed the first spell she could think of.

“Rozpadać Się!” Philippa yelled, left arm outstretched. Her palm flashed, and a bright white light shot from it. It struck the Drowner as its claws were inches from her face. Where the Drowner once was, was now a stew of Drowner guts and skin as the monster exploded. Phillipa was blasted by the parts and viscera of the Drowner, and knocked off her feet.

“Philippa!” Geralt yelled. He took his eyes off the remaining Drowner for a moment, which the monsters used to try and attack once again. It leapt at Geralt, swiping wildly at his head with it’s claws. Luckily for Geralt, his muscle memory kicked in, and he was able to get his arms up, and twist his body to throw the Drowner to the side. The Drowner landed hard on the ground, dazed. Geralt took the opportunity to run to Philippa and check on her.

“Philippa!” He yelled, kneeling down to grab her shoulders and sit her up. “Are you okay?”

Philippa groaned and shuddered, drowner guts covering her whole body. “I don’t think I like being a Withcer very much.” She said in a queer, hazy voice.

The remaining Drowner seemed to regain it’s bearings, and hissed at the pair. On instinct, Philippa raised her hand again, pointing it at the monster.

“Rozpadać-”

“Wait, Philippa, don’t-”

“-Się!”

Philippa’s hand began to glow once again, spell ready. Geralt slapped her hand to the side, causing the spell to misfire, and strike the dirt a few feet from the Drowner, sending mud and grass into the air. Drowner’s weren’t too smart, but they had survival instincts. It realized it wasn’t going to win this fight, and turned to crawl back into the water. Quickly, Geralt loaded another bolt into his crossbow, and fired it, hitting the Drowner in the shoulder right as it leapt into the water. He loaded another bolt and looked around, to make sure it was just the two Drowners. Once he was sure it was clear, he grabbed Philippa under one of her arms, and helped her to feet. She stood shakily, still in a haze.

“Philippa...are you okay?” He asked again. She didn’t answer immediately, just standing there silently. “Uh, Phil-”

Suddenly, Philippa bent over and started retching. She coughed and dry-heaved, hands on her knees and shaking. Geralt didn’t know what to do, so he just rubbed her back.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been more disgusted in my life. It’s….EVERYWHERE.” She finally croaked.

“Yeah, You’ll get guts on yourself in this line of work.” Geralt said with a slight smile, attempting to comfort her. She didn’t take it that way.

“Do you think this is funny?” She asked in an accusatory tone.

“I told you to stay-”

“PISS OFF!”

Philippa waved her hand, casting a spell which expelled the large chunks of Drowner from her form. She then marched over to the river, knelt down and began to furiously splash herself with water, and scrub herself.

“Damn Witchers. Damn Monsters. Damn Village.” Philippa mumbled to herself as she tried to rinse the stench of drowner out of her hair.

“Might want to hold off on that.” Geralt said. “We’re not done yet.”

“We WOULD be done If you’d let me blast that wretched thing to oblivion!” She yelled over her shoulder. “Wait...why didn’t you?”

“Because there’s no way these two are the source of all this chaos. Half a dozen people over a few weeks, whole horses, gone without a trace. Drowners aren’t strong enough to move whole carcasses like that. Would have to be a Witch Hag.” Geralt explained.

“Still doesn’t explain why you let it run away wounded.” Philippa stated.

“Simple. An injured beast always returns home, to rest and recover.” Geralt said. He turned and looked into the water, at the diluted Drowner blood leading up the river. “And now we have a trail to follow.”
____________________________________________________________________________

Geralt figured it’d be easier on foot, leaving the horses in trees. Roach was smart enough and battle trained enough to run if anything dangerous came along. The other horse...well they could always find another if it came to it.

Geralt used his Witcher sense to follow the blood, smelling it like a wolf smelled out it’s prey. The Drowner took them North up the river for about half a mile. There was a small cave entrance, one which Geralt assumed was the home of the Drowners and likely a Water Hag.

“Last chance to go back.” Geralt said, turning to Philippa. “Because once we go down there, we’re not coming out until we have our prize.”

“Don’t patronize me, Witcher.” Philippa said, folding her arms. “I just got anointed in the guts of one of those foul beasts. I’m not leaving until all of those things are dead.”

Geralt chuckled lightly. He liked her spirit.

“Okay. Once we’re down there, you need to follow my lead.” He said, suddenly serious. “This is my world, and I know what I’m doing. I NEED you to be smart in there. To be safe. Do you understand me?”

Philippa looked at Geralt for a moment, then nodded her head. He nodded in return.

The pair entered the cave. It was dark and damp, as caves were, and it smelled of death and rot. That let Geralt know that they were on the right track. Philippa cast a small luminous spell to aid them in maneuvering in the dark. Geralt’s natural night vision was good, but it helped. They kept walking down into the cave, deeper and deeper. They were well underground now, with Geralt no longer being able to hear the sounds of outside. They kept walking until they came upon a large cavern. In it were various pools of shallow water, and one larger one, which Geralt figured ran deep. Geralt sniffed the air, then looked to one of the far corners of the cave.

“Philippa. Shine your light over there.”

Philippa nodded, and increased the power of the spell. In the corner were several mangled corpses, flesh nearly completely gone. Slightly to the left of it were 2 horses, half eaten and rotting.

“Well, we’re no doubt in the right place.” Philippa stated gravely.

“Hmmh.” Geralt just noted He looked toward the large pool of water, and began to draw his silver sword.

“Get ready,” He told Philippa. “Something’s coming.”

Emerging from the water came several drowners, including the one Geralt shot with a bolt.

“There’s our other Drowners.” Philippa said. There was a loud growl, and from the water emerged a ratty head of long, grey hair of a Water Hag. The creature slowly emerged fully from the water, hunched over in all it’s horrible glory. It looked at Geralt and Philippa with it’s glowing yellow eyes, and growled in the back of its throat.

“And there’s our Water Hag.” Geralt said, preparing to step forward. He stopped, once he saw the water had yet to become still. Slowly emerging from the depths came two more Water Hags, taking their place right beside the first.

“Water HAGS.” Philippa corrected. She looked around, admittedly nervously. She saw Geralt tense up. This was a bigger hunt than either of them anticipated. One Water Hag could do enough, especially when it had a group of Drowners around - but 3?

Well no one said Witchering was an easy job.

“What now?” Philippa asked, preparing herself for a fight.

“Now, we do our job.” Geralt said. He suddenly held up his hand. “Aard!” He yelled, blasting a surge of kinetic energy from his hand. The wave of magic hit the creatures, stunning them.

“You take the Drowners, I’ll handle the Hags! Don’t let them surround you!” He said, jumping into action. Philippa didn’t need to be told twice. Immediately she fired Rozpadać Się at the closest Drowner to her, causing it to explode into hundreds of pieces. The other Drowners scrambled.

Geralt lunged at the Water Hags with a wide, horizontal swipe of his sword. The Hags hissed, and jumped back. Despite their size. Water Hags were very agile creatures. The Hag on his left tried to swipe at him with its massive claws, but Geralt ducked under it. He tried to cast Igni, but the dampness of the cave hindered its effectiveness greatly, with only sparks coming from his hand. Geralt rolled out of the way as the other two hags tried to pounce on him.

Back with Philippa, she was blasting away at the Drowners, keeping them at bay. She’d already turned 3 of them into paste, and the others were getting the hint to getting too close to her meant death.

“You like that, you foul beasts!” She yelled as she killed another, splattering it against the cave wall. If Geralt weren’t fighting for his life at the moment, he’d probably find her excitement and tone here incredibly sexy. Something about dangerous women-

But at the moment, he had to deal with the dangerous women in front of him. Geralt slashed upward with his sword, catching one of the hags under its arm, diggin into its scaly flesh. It screamed in pain, slashing at him with its other arm. It’s talon caught Geralt in the shoulder. The gambeson and mail of his armor absorbed most of the blow - MOST of it. He felt the familiar warmth of his blood trickle down his arm, but it could’ve been much worse. The other two Hags attacked in unison, trying to overwhelm Geralt. He blocked their barrage of talons with his sword, but was being backed up toward Philippa, who was still dealing with the Drowners. Suddenly, one of the Water Hag’s feet shot out, catching Geralt square in the chest with a powerful kick. He flew back, right into an unsuspecting Philippa, knocking them both to the hard cave floor.

“Fuck! My shoulder.” Philippa cried out. She landed hard on it. The Water Hags and Drowners began to advance, but Geralt quickly signed Yrden; Several glowing runes appeared on the cave floor, immobilizing the monsters temporarily. Geralt used the time to help Philippa to her feet.

“That won’t hold them for long.” He warned. “We need fire. They hate fire. Know any spells?”

“Yes, but they require both my hands, and I’m pretty sure I dislocated my shoulder just now.” She answered. The monsters were slowly breaking through the sign. They only had a few seconds.

“Well we need something fast, or this will not end well.” Geralt said, gripping his sword with both hands. Philippa thought for a moment.

“Cast igni” she instructed.

“It won’t work. The air’s too wet.”

“Just do it!”

With no time to argue Geralt lifted his hand, preparing to cast the sign and expecting nothing to happen. Philippa placed her hand on his shoulder, and focused all the magic she could throughout her body, to the single point of her palm. Geralt felt his skin tingle, and the hair on his neck began to stick up, and CRACKLE. He’d never felt anything like it before.

“IGNI!”

His hand sparked a few times as the monsters finally broke through the Yrden. As they rushed forward, a wave of fire bigger than anything Geralt, or even Philippa for that matter, had ever cast shot from Geralt’s palm. It was so forceful, Geralt had to dig his heels in the ground to keep himself from being pushed back. The fire illuminated the whole of the cavern, engulfing the monsters completely. The stream of fire was so powerful, that the small pools of water in the cavern began to rapidly evaporate. The heat was enough to make Philippa recoil behind Geralt, but she kept pumping her magic into Geralt, wanting to make sure all the horrible creatures were dead. After several more seconds, Phillipa pulled her arm back. The fire quickly died down to sparks from the Witcher’s palm. Geralt put his arm down, breathing heavily and sweating. Philippa felt light headed, and shakily stepped forward. They looked down at their handy work; the Drowners and Water Hags were almost unrecognizable, skin burnt black to a crisp, nearly nothing besides oversized pieces of charcoal.

“Holy hells.” Geralt breathed out.

“Yeah. That was-”

“Effective.”

“Very.”

“Come over here.”

Philippa walked over to Geralt, who reached out, grabbed her shoulder, and forced it back in it’s socket.

“FUCK!” She yelled out in pain. “A bit of warning next time would be appreci- MPFF”

Philippa was shut up by Geralt suddenly capturing his lips with his, She melted into the kiss, throwing her arms around his neck. After a moment, they broke apart, looking at each other.

“Not bad for a first time Witcher.” Geralt lightly teased.

“Hm. While that kiss was a nice reward, I’d rather get mine in gold. Let’s go get paid.”
______________________________________________________________________

“Sweet fuck! Three of em?”

Herman was more than a bit surprised when Geralt and Philippa came to his door at the crack of dawn, with 3 burnt Water Hag heads in tow.

“We all found the remains of the villagers in the cave. Some men should go and retrieve them. Give them a proper burial.” Geralt informed.

“Aye.” Herman agreed solemnly. “Shame any of this happened. Well, you two did us a great service. Greater than you can know. Here.”

Herman handed Geralt a small sack of gold.

“We gathered what we could. There’s some extra in there given the circumstance. Also feel free to get some rest at the tavern. We’ve plenty of vacancies.”

Geralt nodded his head. Some rest would do wonders.

Philippa and Geralt went to the tavern and took a room Philippa flopped onto the bed, exhausted.

“So, what do you think of the glorious life of being a Witcher?” Geralt asked with a smirk.

“I think we didn’t get paid enough.” Philippa groaned

“Heh. We never do.” Geralt laughed. “You know, you did great. I underestimated you.”

“Brief lapse in sanity. Happens to the best of us.” Philippa teased.

“The way you carried yourself out there….well I could just jump you right now.” Geralt crooned, sitting on the bed. Philippa perked up a bit, rolling over to face him.”

“Well what’s stopping you?” She asked huskily, propping herself up. Geralt gave her a sexy smile and leaned down close enough to whisper into her ear.

“Because you smell like absolute death.”

Philippa pulled back, mouth agape, as Geralt wore a shit eating smirk on his face.

“You...you-” Philippa sputtered.

“Really, we should see if they have a bath somewhere around here. Kissing you in that cave was like kissing the bottom of a fish barrel.”

Geralt quickly got to his feet and made a break for it, as Philippa started slinging hexes at him.

“You horrible, RUDE, inconsiderate-” She yelled as she continued firing a variety of unpleasant spells at the Witcher.

Geralt just dodged them, staying just out of her reach. Internally, he was laughing.

He hadn’t remembered feeling this young in a long time.
- 5
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Philippa's Grace