Geralt trodged up the wet grass of the hill, the heavy storm soaking him to the bone. He stepped over a large rock, gaining more and more ground toward the tree above him at the top.
Trying to shield his eyes from the pelting rain with his hand, he thought about what Dandelion told him; how Little Eye died of a smallpox outbreak. How Dandelion, painstakingly and filled with sorrow, had to pilfer Essi's body from a pile of burning corpses in the night, a woman that amounted in his mind to his little sister. And how Dandelion had buried her at the most beautiful view he knew of in the forests just outside of Vizima.
The Witcher's footsteps felt heavier to him than they should, seemingly sinking into the wet earth an extra inch due to an invisible weight Geralt was carrying. "That's what it feels like at least..." he mumbled to himself.
Geralt tried to avert his eyes from the ancient tree at the top of the hill as long as he could, but eventually with it being the massive and singular item in his perspective, this became futile. As his boots, muddy and dripping with aggressively falling rain, approached the outermost of the tree's above ground roots, Geralt slowed.
He thought to himself that he both wanted to be at his final destination as quickly as possible, and at the same time, he wished that the trip had taken a much, much longer time. Geralt stopped at the stone lying in front of the old tree's trunk, the stone Dandelion had carved and placed on top of Little Eye's final resting place.
"Resting place..." Geralt spat out in his head, "...you didn't get the rest you deserved. You passed in so much pain, and I can only imagine your terrible fear and hopelessness. Oh, how I could have seen you one last time then, comforted you, let you know that while I may not have been destined for you, that pearl meant as much to me as it did to you..."
Geralt thought about that beautiful, near perfect, sky blue pearl. How it sat perfectly in the magnificent flower necklace Essi had made for it. He thought about when Dandelion tried to lie and say that Geralt remembered her birthday and got her that muck covered shell - all the while no one knowing such a beautiful gem was held inside.
Looking at the stone on the ground, water continuing to interfere with his vision as it kept running down his soaking white hair into his eyes, he could see the engraving had been worn down by age some, but it wasn't near illegible yet.
"With great beauty and fierce heart, 'tis with tragedy this pearl and world must part." Geralt read aloud part of the engraving Dandelion left on the stone. He continued, "Essi Da-" the Witcher choked before being able to finish her name.
He blamed it on the weather. The storm. It made him feel tense, and ill. Too much magic in the air during these damned storms. Geralt swallowed hard and hardened his face to finish, "Essi Daven." He reached into his sodden cloak and grabbed a small bouquet of flowers.
"This is stupid," the Witcher said aloud, to no one. Not a person, let alone he, knew what happened after people died. Geralt understood that if they had bad luck or some unfinished business they could come back as monsters. He knew that because that was his charge, his trade. But no one, even the priests of the Eternal Flame claiming otherwise, really knew what happened when someone died and left for good. Not even the forbidden practice of necromancy had been able to answer that question.
Geralt shook his head. Philosophizing wasn't why he was here, nor his strong suit, and he knew it. He was trying to shield himself from any emotion, and yet he came here to deal with emotion, not avoid it.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean THIS is stupid just... well. We may not have shared many days together but daft is the last thing I'd call you. You blessed me by showing so much of your true self, and If anyone is daft it's me, because..." thunder rumbled interrupting Geralt's speech to the stone - which he considered a good thing because he had just choked up again, though he wouldn't have admitted it to anyone. The Witcher was grateful he decided to make this journey alone. Geralt took a deep breath.
"Essi I wronged you. You offered love and I offered... well, all I ever offer. Pain. I always, always wish it could be different. And especially for you. Your tongue and wit were as beautiful as your eyes, and I wish I'd seen you again after that day long ago, at least once more. Just to say you were important to me, despite our meager length of time together." Geralt paused, looking down and away from the stone. He stood for a few minutes in silence listening to the plop-plop-plop of water hitting saturated soil.
If it weren't raining, would his cheeks nevertheless be wet? Doubtful. But that didn't mean anything other than he was what he was, a Witcher. It didn't mean he wasn't being earnest in what he was saying - earnest in what he was thinking. Truth was the only thing he could offer the deceased girl.
"I've been very lucky in my life. I've survived so many wounds that would have killed countless other men that... well, I've lost count. I've escaped from enraged Kings wanting my head, sorcerers wanting my power, and humans wanting to vivisect me just to see a monster suffer and satisfy their morbid curiosity... And I've been nothing but a complete whoreson during my life. There's no justice in the world where I'm alive and you are not. I kill monsters for coin. You gave people both respite from and strength to tackle their own monsters..." Geralt contentiously shook his head, causing many drops to fall from his long white locks.
The Witcher knelt down on one knee, the rain not relenting. He placed the small bouquet next to the stone marking Essi's burial spot. Then he stood slowly, closing his eyes, wishing the rain to wash this confusion, regret, and loss away. It did not. Geralt sighed and opened his eyes.
"Goodbye Essi. Wherever you are, I do hope it's as beautiful as your songs, 'cause nothing could be as beautiful as your heart." Geralt nodded and turned away from the stone, making his way back down the hill.