The mountains that loomed over the rolling hills outside the city filled Lilith with a deep nostalgia. She had watched those mountains cast their shadow on the city as the sun dipped behind them in the summertime and marveled at how they would always don a fresh white cap each winter. The air even smelled of home, the scent of freshly farmed barley and recently turned soil wrapping her in a shawl of memories.
"We are getting ready to depart." Silas said, approaching the woman, "How will you get to les halles de vitraux? You would have to pass through the city and then to the other side and, no offense, but neither of you blend very well into a crowd."
"We'll take the sewers once we reach the gate," She responded, keeping her eyes on the mountains, "Geralt has a contact in Toussaint we're going to meet with so we can go the rest of the way with him."
"He IS a Witcher, how do you know if his contact is trustworthy?"
She looked back at Geralt who was standing on the stern of the ship, watching the water beneath them, "He's kept me alive thus far when he had ample opportunity to kill me. I…trust him, for the most part."
"Trust doesn't mean much more than a fool's handful of gold in court, little girl."
Lilith laughed dryly, "For such a man of humble beginnings, you certainly have quite a bit of knowledge of the manor of court."
He threw back his head and laughed, "Only in my head, little girl! Only in my head."
The boat slowed and the men threw lines across the railing as they prepared to dock. Several dock workers pointed out an owl that fluttered around the mast in anticipation. Several wondered why an owl was out during broad daylight, but most went about unbothered by the ship that was unloading.
As Geralt and Lilith went to depart, Silas tossed two cloaks in their direction. Geralt caught his with ease while Lilith fumbled for her own. "Stay safe, travelers. I hope you end up finding what you're looking for." With a flick of his thumb to the brim of his hat, he flashed the two a daunting smile as they threw the cloaks over their heads.
"How are you planning on getting into Toussaint without Roach?" Lilith asked as they walked down the docks, the sounds of the native language thick on many tongues, "It is still a three day's journey from port unless we wanted to catch a ride on a river ship going upstream."
"No, staying on the roads means local gossip at local taverns. Northwood's men will have expected us to continue west by vessel and they'll have men standing by at every port. They saw us leave on that boat and they'll expect us to arrive the same way. Come now, three days at sea makes a piss poor excuse to go sober. You want a drink?"
Lilith shrugged nonchalantly and took a deep breath, closing her eyes as the sea wind rustled her curly black hair. "This is my home, Geralt. I never thought I would step foot on Toussaint's soil again. Thank you."
"You're quite welcome," He responded as the two began to walk in silence down the street of the town. "What are they saying?" Geralt asked quietly as two Toussaint locals began to quarrel amongst themselves, spiraling into fists being thrown.
"Well, the man who accusing was upset because he thought that he was getting the man's finest pig as a wedding dowry to his daughter. The man didn't pay up and said that he had lost the pig in a bet. The first said the second is a drunk, gambling fool and…well, you can see how that went."
"Ask someone where the nearest tavern is," Geralt asked as Lilith stopped a woman and asked her where the tavern was. The woman rattled off something unintelligible to Geralt, but seemed to make sense to Lilith and she began to lead the way. The Witcher followed closely behind, but something caught his eye. A pair of armored men were walking their way, already eyeballing the two cloaked travelers. "Lilith, we have company." Geralt whispered, gripping her arm to stop her. The woman paused and looked up at Geralt.
"What do you see?" She asked quietly.
"Northwood's men. We have to get out of here," He responded, his hand slipping down Lilith's arm to clasp her hand as they turned and started walking back from where they came. "This way." He pulled her down a side road as they attempted to evade them.
"Geralt, stop." Lilith finally said as they rounded a corner, "Stop right here. I have a plan."
"What's your plan?" He asked, still watching the road where they had come from.
"Do you trust me?" Lilith questioned, not bothering to answer the question.
"No, not really."
"Kiss me." Without any warning, Geralt felt his face dragged down to the witch's height and her lips slam up against his own. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her waist, dragging her up so that he could straighten his own back. Lilith deepened the kiss, turning her head further into Geralt's as her hood tumbled down, obscuring their faces with curls. The scent of sandalwood swirled around them and for a moment, all Geralt could focus on was her impossibly soft lips against his own rough ones. Yennefer's kisses had always been demanding and forceful, the woman always had to be in charge whether on the battlefield or the bedroom, but kissing Lilith was different. This kiss was full of an angry passion of a woman who had something to prove to the gods and man alike, but tentative like an inexperienced young maiden. It was so raw that Geralt swore he could feel his magic tingle in his own hands as she pulled him closer, his own arms gripping her like she was his one and only lifeline.
"They probably went that way," A voice behind them said as the two guards moved behind them, hardly giving them a second look as they passed, "Come on, they can't be too far."
The men moved past the couple, walking further into the town as Lilith dropped down, ultimately breaking the spell, "Sorry about that. Most men I've found are not fond of public displays of affection and will do everything in their power to avoid it."
"Ah," Was the only thing out of Geralt's mouth as Lilith drug her hood back around her head.
"I don't know if you want to be in this town, Geralt."
"We can rent private rooms and nobody will see us. The Marquee isn't going anywhere. I know that you desperately need a bath."
A faint blush rose to Lilith's cheeks, "I-I don't stink!" She snapped back, "If anything, you're the one who smells."
A chuckle escaped Geralt's lips, "Lilith, if you bathe within the next 12 hours, Northwood's men are going to find you by smell alone. Come on, we should get off the streets."
The two wandered through the crowds of people until a small, dingy building with a lopsided sign outside beckoned them inside. Walking up the steps, men and women milled about, some watching them carefully as they stepped over the threshold. Inside, the building was even more dingy, the scent of tobacco and alcohol thick in the air mingling with the smoke from the smoldering hearth in the corner of the room. The tavern was mostly empty, sans the two older men who milled about in the corner, talking quickly in the native language. They sat as the bar and a seedy looking woman approached the counter.
"Qu'aellez-vous boire?" The woman questioned, shifting her eyes from traveler to traveler.
"I don't…" Geralt began to respond till Lilith held up her hand to silence him.
"She's asking you what you want to drink, Geralt." Lilith said patiently, lowering her hand, "What would you like?"
"Hmm, whatever's their strongest drink is," He responded, leaning forward on the counter. Lilith nodded and turned her attention back to the keep.
"Du vin pour moi, et le monsieur aura votre liqueur la plus forte." She ordered, the woman nodding and turning back to the bar. A glass of wine deep as fine velvet appeared in front of Lilith and a small shot glass with an amber liquid was placed in front of Geralt along with a dusty bottle with a label that Geralt could not read.
"Tell her to leave the bottle," Geralt grunted, throwing back the shot. It burned like fire going down, the alcohol instantly warming his belly as he poured another drink, "And ask her if they have any rooms."
Lilith nodded and repeated Geralt's request in the local tongue. The woman spouted off something, shaking her head. Lilith sighed and asked something else as the woman shrugged and wandered off. The witch turned back to Geralt.
"She said they only have one room available for rent at the moment. Something about these soldiers being in town." She responded, furrowing her brows, "But she would be more than willing to rent it to us."
Geralt closed his eyes and stroked his chin, thinking about the situation at hand, "I can wait down here while you bathe." He suggested, "I don't want to risk travelling at night, especially with leaving Roach behind, but it may raise suspicion and our chances of encountering monsters."
She opened her mouth to respond, but he held up a hand. "Do not get me started with your 'I can control monsters' nonsense. You aren't powerful enough to control a Giant Centipede, what makes you so confident in controlling whatever else is out there?"
Geralt sipped at what he figured to most likely be a dark whiskey and turned his attention back to the bottle. He looked over at Lilith who seemed to be gazing into her glass of wine, "It's not a teat, woman. Why are you nursing it?"
She whipped her head back to him and he could see the strain of anger in her face, "For your information, I saved us back in Broughbright at the expense of my companion. If I could control her, I could just as well…"
"No, you can't. We are here to regain your title, not fight monsters, Lilith." He snapped in response, drinking down the rest of the glass. He drank more when women irritated him, he realized as he drained another glass of the liquor. He could feel it going to his head, but the woman and her line of thought was getting on his last nerve.
"They are one of the same, Geralt." She quipped angrily, "Monsters are men wearing skin we recognize." With that, she stood with a wine glass still in hand, draining the cup where she stood as she watched Geralt with her hypnotic amber eyes. When she finished it, she set in on the table, said something to the woman quickly, and the woman nodded, sliding a key over the counter to the woman, "By the way, YOU'RE paying for the room." With that, she flounced away towards the steps that would inevitably lead her to the room that he was paying for.
With a sigh, Geralt turned back to where the barkeep watched him, eyebrow arched, a disapproving look on her face. "Fine, I'll pay," He grumbled, throwing a few orens onto the bar top. The woman looked pleased with the payment, scooped it up and said something to Geralt in the same language. "I still don't understand you." Geralt responded, obviously exasperated. The woman just rolled her eyes and went off to serve another few men who had wandered into the bar. Geralt kept the cloak over his features as the tavern began to get more crowded as sailors finished their shifts at the dock.
By the time the sun had dipped under the mountains, Geralt found himself very tipsy, having consumed a bottle and a half of the drink placed on the counter wordlessly by the same woman. He stood from his stool and teered over to where the tavern's rooms would be. He placed a hand on the doorknob and paused for a moment. He could hear her in the room, talking to herself about the night sky.
"…Do you mean the red star is still there…I thought with Margaret's…No. I can't lose him too. I…I…"
A loud eruption of laughter echoed from the communal area, covering the final sentiment in the statement, "…Do you think that we should get someone else involved? You cannot…. The stars…"
Geralt found himself letting go of the doorknob, lowering his eyes to the ground. Turning on his heel, he walked towards the door of the tavern, breaking his own rule of staying undercover. Without much thought, his boots squished through the mud of the road, leading him down a path that he was all too familiar with.
The scent of cheap perfume called him like a bloodhound to a wounded animal. The sounds of carnal pleasure echoed in his ears as he ascended the steps of the small brothel, opening the door as the scent of sex hit him in the face, a band mellowly playing in the background.
"Welcome, welcome." A thickly accented voice ushered him in, "Come in, Sir. Please browse our wares."
Geralt grunted and walked over to the counter where a woman in a corset that was too tight waited impatiently for money. He threw a few gold coins on the counter and the woman greedily swept in and smiled toothily. It vaguely reminded Geralt of harpies. "Any of the fine wares are yours for the choosing." The woman ushered him deeper into the small home, a curtain pushing back to reveal several women decked out in gaudy, fake jewelry and not much else, dancing for a small crowd of men who were also in the room. He took note of the emblems on their shields showing their true loyalties. Geralt should have known better than to go into this brothel, but he merely pulled the woman close and nodded at a slender redheaded beauty in the corner who was currently being eyeballed by another man.
"I'll take her." He said gruffly as the woman reared back.
"But SIR," She pretended to be aghast, "But SURELY you would like to see the wares up close, have a few drinks, watch a dance…"
"I said," His voice was now deep, a snarl building in his throat, "I'll take her. Do not make me repeat myself twice."
The madame lowered her eyes to the floor and curtseyed politely, "I'll let Vivienne that someone has requested her presence. Please sir," She handed him a key, "You'll be in room 4."
Geralt took the key without question and walked down the hallway, pausing at a door with a crudely carved "4" on the door. He opened it and removed his swords, placing them on the bed before removing his shirt, revealing a heavily scarred chest dotted with hair as white as that on his head. A light rap was heard at the door and the redheaded woman poked her head in, her bright green eyes watching him in anticipation.
"You speak the common tongue?" Geralt interrogated, making the woman, Vivienne, shy away.
"A bit, Sir." She said, opening the door to reveal she had draped herself in a sheer dress, "You are not of this place?"
"No, I am not." He responded as the woman flounced across the room, her perky breasts peaked with nipples that reacted to the cool room, "I'm not here to talk, though."
"No, you are not." She responded breezily, closing the space between them with a single step on her inhumanely long legs. Without a warning, she sat down on his lap and began to stroke his face, as if memorizing every scar, "What has attacked you, Sir?"
"Monsters," He said gruffly as Vivienne's hands traveled from his temples to his hairline.
"And only men who are aged wear hair as white as the snow," She continued, toying with his ponytail, her fingers running down the shaved sides, "What are you?"
"I am a monster," Geralt growled, pulling her lips down on his own, her legs instantly straddling one of Geralt's, her hand pressed up against his inner thigh. Nipping at his lower lip, their tongues crashed into one another, pulling back only for a moment to catch their breath before plunging into one another again. Geralt massaged the woman's upper thigh, causing her to moan in pleasure, the Witcher pulling the woman forward.
The scent of heavy perfume drove him back to his senses first. The second was that when he opened his eyes, only the freckled face of Vivienne was there in front of him. He pulled back for a moment as the woman did the same, her cheeks flushed and her lashes lowered.
"Did…Did I do something wrong?" She questioned, her voice thick and husky.
"No, you did nothing wrong." He said, his own voice raspy, "This…this is all wrong." With that, he stood and began to dress once again, throwing his shirt on first and the cloak over the top, "I shouldn't be here."
He grabbed his swords and then opened the door and threw a mumbled apology to the prostitute and nodded at the madame as he walked out the door and back into the throngs of people who still milled about the streets.