The one with the confused pufferfish

In silence they followed a path that was illuminated by torches. Eventually they reached the shore of a lake. Numerous boats were bobbing peacefully on its surface, the soft glow of their lanterns reflecting on the water.

"I think we were successful," Kit stated matter-of-factly once they were out of earshot. She let go of Geralt's hand and spun around herself. "What do you think?" She stopped and grinned at him.

What he thought? He thought that he had just made the most wonderful experience in a long time and it could not end so soon.

Geralt cleared his throat. "I assume we were fairly convincing," he started cautiously, "but I wouldn't mind making sure the message reaches everybody." He reached for her hand again and pulled her closer.

Kit smiled and nodded. "Maybe you are right. But have you seen the way they looked at us? If anyone gets jumped by a mad woman tonight it's going to be me – and out of jealousy."

Geralt nodded even though he had seen nothing. Nothing but her.

"You are very good at…" Kissing, he thought, "giving instructions," he said.

"Well, watching all these romance movies was finally worth it."

"Any more valuable lessons to be learned from them?"

"Only that every fake relationship will be exposed at the end. Let's hope that I learned enough not to let it come this far."

Geralt wanted to protest, surely his part in this was not at all insincere. But maybe hers was? For tonight, he thought, I don't care. I will enjoy what I have.

He offered her his arm and together they strolled through the park, only occasionally stopping at one of the food stands. Kit insisted that they fed each other. "Nothing more annoying than a couple putting on such a stupid show."

"Anything else?" Geralt, now an eager student of the arts of misleading people, asked when she pulled the cheese and grape from a little wooden skewer that he held out for her.

"I'm calling this one the messy eater: Here, try this." She offered him a chicken drumstick that was covered in sauce, from which he obediently took a bite. "Oh darling, you've got something in your face," she exclaimed louder than necessary. "Let me take care of this." With one hand on his chin, she turned his face to the side, while she kissed the corner of his mouth to remove the sauce that had inevitably ended up there. The witcher hummed satisfied when he felt the soft touch of her lips and thought of ways to eat even messier.

"The key is to create as many unnecessary and over the top interactions as possible. Force everybody to look at you, even those who couldn't care less."

"I had no idea you were such a strategist," he remarked with amusement in his voice.

They walked in circles around the gardens, eventually sitting down on a bench. Geralt pulled Kit onto his lap before she could even try to sit down on the bench.

"I see, you're getting the hang of it." She smiled approvingly and draped her arms around his neck.

"I have a good teacher," he acknowledged. "I hope you are enjoying yourself despite this?"

"Despite? Don't be silly. All of this is wonderful. I don't understand how you prefer being covered in blood and monster intestines to this!" She seemed to be genuinely happy and Geralt was glad to see it.

"Usually I don't have such good company," he whispered while a few people passed them, shooting them curious glances.

"It's okay, I am willing to sacrifice myself should more events like this one come up," she proclaimed theatrically. "But I need to come up with another pet name. I hate 'darling', it's awful and bland."

He shook his head in disbelief as he could not possibly care any less about what she called him.

Geralt had started to notice that people did in fact watch: How she lovingly pushed some stray hairs behind his ear. How he placed a kiss on her neck. How he touched her in all the ways that she had shown him to signal that he did not care about anybody else. How they walked, hand in hand, until her feet hurt. How he carried her up the stairs and only had eyes for her, not wasting a single glance on his environment. Geralt was fairly sure that he would not have noticed had Detlaff sent his army again.

On one of the terraces they waited for midnight when the firework would begin. In the distance dark clouds were visible and Geralt heard thunder rolling.

"Your knee was right after all," Kit noticed when the clouds began to move past them. The wind had picked up, making the skirt of her dress wave in a way that was hypnotizing.

A loud whizz announced the beginning of the fireworks. The crowd cheered.

"I love fireworks," Kit remarked, her eyes glued to the sky. The dark clouds made the colorful sparks stand out even more. It was either them or the flashes of lightening, coming closer fast, that illuminated the sky.

Geralt rested his hands on her hips, shaped his body to hers. He did not care for the spectacle in the sky, he simply yearned for their bodies to be close. Kit placed her hands on his and moved them around her body so that she was held in a tight embrace. She just watched, not saying anything, not even when the first raindrops began to hit the ground.

All of a sudden, the previously steady breeze turned into violent gusts of wind. Kit's scarf was picked up and they watched it fly away for a moment before they ran for shelter as a downpour suddenly set in. In just a few seconds both of them were completely drenched.

But they smiled and laughed.

"I think that'll be the end of it," Geralt mused while taking off one of his boots and poured some water out on the ground.

"It's time to go to bed now anyway, my love," she said loudly so all of the passing guests could hear her while adding under her breath, laughing: "God, I'm an awfully obnoxious fake girlfriend."

Their naked feet were slapping on the tiled floors while Kit left a wet trace with her skirt.

By the time they reached their chambers, the city was engulfed in thunder and lightning. The ground vibrated and the lightening illuminated everything around them. Kit opened the doors to their balcony to watch the mesmerizing spectacle.

"I'm glad we are in here and not out there," she said, rubbing her hands on her upper arms. The night air had become much chillier and the wet fabric clinging to her body cooled her down. Geralt put his arms around her but she started to shiver anyway.

"You need to get out of this dress," he concluded.

"Absolutely," she agreed with chattering teeth. Looking in the full-length mirror and spinning around her own axis, she realized that getting out of the dress was not going to be that easy. "Can you loosen up the laces in the back? I can't do it myself."

Geralt nodded and turned her, so she was facing the mirror while his hand glided down her spine until it reached the bottom of the dress where a ribbon held everything together. He fumbled a little until he was able to open it and then began to loosen the laces. Kit held her arms crossed over her chest to keep the dress from falling to the floor.

Geralt carefully caressed the skin on her back which was showing imprints of the fabric. For a moment goosebumps spread across her skin, just to disappear again a moment later.

"Do you mind giving me something to wear to bed?" she asked, nodding at the pile of ordered clothing that had come with the dress.

He wanted to suggest that she might just wear nothing at all but obediently fished out a nightgown for her anyway. Geralt handed her the flimsy piece of fabric while Kit looked at him expectantly. "Would you mind?" she asked again. Geralt turned around, very much unwillingly. He heard how the wet fabric dropped and folded itself on the floor.

Maybe he should get out of these wet things too, he thought, while opening the front of his tunic, ready to discard the unloved and uncomfortable piece of clothing.

He hesitated. "That was a wonderful evening. Thank you for that and for what you did for me."

Kit smiled. "It was beautiful. I just realized that didn't get to see the Duchess, but other than that I consider this evening absolutely perfect."

Geralt hesitated but could not stop himself: "If your real kisses are only half as good as the pretend one I got tonight, you must have made a few men very happy."

Kit blushed again. No matter how many times she did it, he would always find it endearing.

"What do you mean? It was a real kiss," Kit suggested, looking at the witcher in confusion.

"I just assumed you would kiss someone you really like differently than someone you simply want to do a favor. In front of an audience."

She shook her head. "I already told you, any sort of physicality is completely impossible for me if I don't like the other person at least a little." She sighed. "As for the audience…" She chuckled. "We are alone now, so if you really want to find out..." She said it jokingly, but Geralt did not care, he did not hesitate. He approached her, slowly, like a cat that was about to pounce on its next meal, giving her a last chance to turn away. His eyes were fixated on her, registering that she breathed a little heavier, hearing her heart beat speed up. He noticed that the goosebumps had returned and that parts of her were showing through the thin fabric of her nightgown in the most pleasant ways. With one last step he closed the distance between them and pulled her tight, one arm around her back, one hand on her cheek. He could feel her breath on his skin. The thought of her lips made him shudder.

It was her this time, who kissed him, reaching out for him on her toes. Her lips were warm and soft as they closed around his. Before, the feeling had overwhelmed him, but this time he was better prepared. He sucked gently until her lips parted and let him explore. His tongue found hers, ensnaring it into a game of catch, while tasting everything she had to offer.

However, when she ran her hand over his exposed chest, he moaned and lost all control again. What was it about her, he thought afterwards, that her touches had such an effect on him? Was it simply because he was not used to any kind of affection anymore? It should have been other way around, her moaning in pleasure while he turned her to wax in his hands. That was how it always had been with Geralt, the giver, who was so very concerned for the pleasure of his lovers. But he felt weak and powerless and not at all in control.

Kit bit his lip tenderly before she let go. They rested forehead against forehead, breathing heavily.

"I hope this answers your question," she said sheepishly.

"I think I have a lot more questions that need to be answered this way," he said. All of a sudden he could hear the storm again that had ceased to exist for the past minute.

Kit smiled shyly while turning away from him. She tip-toed to the bed and threw the blankets over her head and shoulders, settling in a way that she was able to watch the storm outside.

Geralt shook his head, wondering how this only seemed to affect him but not her. He finally rid himself of his wet garments and sat down next to her, demanding refuge in the blanket fortress she had created around herself.

When he woke up the next morning, the sun was shining brightly already. Last night's fresh air had been replaced by Toussaint's usual warmth. Geralt found that he had one arm wrapped around Kit and one leg pushed between hers which, miraculously and thankfully, for once did not remind him of the old wound despite the odd position it was in. Kit's nightgown had wandered upwards, leaving her thighs uncovered. The blankets had disappeared, their current whereabouts unknown. Kit lay there, still and warm, breathing relaxed, not yet fully awake. How they ended up in this position, he did not know. He only remembered that they had gone to bed as two separate entities, blankets and all still present.

For a moment Geralt sensed that they were being watched. But he discarded the impression as silly, so high up in the palace's towers.

He pressed a kiss on Kit's naked shoulder and let his hand wander over her arm, relishing the feeling of her soft skin under the tips of his fingers. She stirred and turned around with her eyes still closed. She nuzzled into Geralt, her hands resting on his naked chest. Her body exuded a warmth that was beyond comforting, yet, at the same time he was filled with a nervous energy that made him feel invincible. The familiar tingle of his skin touching hers just added to the coziness.

When Kit woke up, she stretched in his arms not unlike a cat, and then looked at him in confusion when she realized where she was. Stretching yet again, she rolled to the side and nearly fell out of the bed. Geralt had grabbed her by the hip at the last moment.

"Did this bed shrink during the night?" she wondered, before she rolled onto her belly and fell asleep again.

After their ride home, spent in silence, Kit took her notebook and disappeared to her spot by the river. Geralt was left confused. It seemed that whenever they became a little closer she would withdraw from him immediately after. Maybe he had to accept that she was not interested in him the same way he was interested in her, he realized with disappointment.

Dear reader,

I'll keep doing this thing where I try to see all the good things about being here. Or at least the good in the bad. Please enjoy my ramblings:

I love camping. Except for the part where you usually have to walk at least halfway across the campgrounds to get to the bathrooms. I have fond memories of a road trip through the US, having been to campgrounds with signs warning you not to step on scorpions. Which, believe it or not, isn't that easy if you have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night in total darkness with just a tiny flashlight to hold on to. On another occasion I actually had to wake up my then-boyfriend to come with me because I had been listening to the coyotes howling in the distance for a while and… Well. I guess I didn't want to die alone? Seriously, it was scary. I had this image in my mind where they would find our mutilated bodies the next day: A cop arrives at the scene and asks for the cause of death. "Full bladder," the coroner would answer.

What does any of that have to do with my current situation? Have you ever had to deal with those glorified pee buckets that are chamber pots? I knew they used to be a thing. I assumed the whole matter would be somewhat disgusting and I was right. What wouldn't I give to have to walk half a kilometer to the next toilet if there just was one… Now, what about this do I appreciate, you wonder? The fact that I don't have to empty or clean said chamber pot. Someone does it, I don't know who and I don't want to know. But here it is: I appreciate that I don't have to do that because I got lucky and was found by someone who could afford to pay people to deal with literal shit. In all honesty though, I can only imagine how much harder all of this would have been had I ended up in a place where life was less comfortable.

Was this too tmi for you? Sorry. But then again you're reading my diary, so what the hell did you expect?

All in all, I've got to say that I don't miss sitting in front of a computer for 40 hours a week at work. I'm going as far as saying that, if it wasn't for the constant pain I was feeling at the back of my mind over being away from my family and friends (and indoor-plumbing), I wouldn't really miss the life that I left behind that much. Thanks to the current circumstances my hello fresh deliveries constituted the highlight of my week and that says a lot, don't you think?

But here? Just take yesterday as an example: Geralt taught me how to sharpen swords. Now, he's not an idiot, so I didn't get to touch his swords. Not sure if he was more worried about me damaging them or they damaging me. But while the big man dealt with the big sharp things, I got to sharpen the small things - Marlene's kitchen knives. She's still talking to me so I guess I haven't done a horrible job.

It's the change of scenery that I appreciate. For a while at least. Let's see how long this honeymoon period will last.

Anyway, dear reader, let's get back to the really good stuff, shall we?

I might possibly be trapped in a fairy tale. There is no princess here but a Duchess in a spectacular palace. No prince but a guy with a horse who, luckily, is so much more interesting than any prince could possibly be.

When I return to my world, I need to turn this into a novel worthy of a cheesy Netflix rom-com adaption (Knight before Christmas, anyone?).

We went to the palace for the wine festival. I, in my dreamy dress, and by my side a maybe intimidating looking but intelligent and thoughtful man whose company I was envied for.

Geralt introduced me to some of his acquaintances, all of them so polite and nice. I was squirming internally when they kissed my hand because my brain jumped back to all these hygiene rules before I remembered that in this world I was more likely to end up with the plague rather than a certain flu-like virus. Which is not making things any better now that I think about it...

Turns out, readjusting is difficult sometimes. After about a week I had stopped to freak out whenever I saw people huddled close together. Other habits were much harder to shake off. It's been nearly three weeks now but I still find myself trying to grab my phone to google something or check my messages several times a day. During breakfast, I keep looking for the radio because I'm not used to not listening to the news and music. At one point I called out for Alexa to tell me what time it was. Geralt looked at me like I was nuts. When I explained the concept of Alexa to him that didn't really change anything. He even checked if I had temperature.

Right, but I was just supposed to believe in magic and monsters, huh? Remind me to tell him about the moon landing if I ever really need to mess with him.

I noticed from the very beginning how he attracted the attention of most women around him. It is easy to understand why – if you look up 'manliness' on wikipedia you'll probably find his picture there. The chiseled jaw, all these muscles with minus two percent bodyfat… I get it. No amount of scars can make him look unpleasant – at most a little menacing.

What I find much harder to understand is how people here have no shame or reservations. I'm not saying I have never occasionally stared at someone who I perceived as beautiful, I have ovaries and hormones and am not above good looks. But not like they do it here. And it appears I have only seen half of it.

I guess most women have dealt with some sort of sexual harassment in their life since most of us have made the experience that certain men will not accept a 'no' and will only back off once we pull the boyfriend card. Because a woman's opinion is to be disregarded unless she is someone else's property (hear me sigh in frustration). It would have never occurred to me that Geralt could fall victim to this because I automatically assumed it could never happen to men, never mind men as tall and strong as him. For god's sake, he can fight off monsters! But when it comes to women, he's powerless (if he was a Pokémon, he'd have a double weakness against them… and sometimes for them, I guess).

The festival was a nice break from the usual. New things to see, new people to meet. But the moment Geralt left to get us some drinks, I was surrounded by a gaggle of women. It started out innocently enough. They were asking me about my dress and I really do believe their interest and their compliments were genuine. The topic was changed quickly though. How was the sex? How many times does he satisfy me every day? Were the (mostly dick-related) rumors true?

Here is a short list of the rumors, in case you were wondering:

- He has two

- It is/they are about the same size as that of a horse

- It glows/they glow in the dark

- It has/they have hooks (just… why?)

- He has unlimited stamina

I have rarely ever felt so uncomfortable. I was about to tell them what I thought of their behavior when Geralt returned and the problem solved itself. Or should I say relocated itself? I'm sure they kept talking about him, just out of earshot.

Good looks and rumors aside, they don't even know what they are missing out on. He is kind, empathetic and charming – even though he has no reason to be any of these things. And that's not just my uterus talking. I've spent some time with the people who work for him and they hold him in high regards. Most of them have truly fantastic and heartwarming stories to tell about Geralt. Those who have been with him ever since he took over the property told me that, initially, they were scared of him. Geralt was right after all, people do fear or even hate witchers to a certain degree. He had to earn their trust, treated them much better than other vineyard owners did, helped them out with personal issues. And then there was Cora. She's a little younger than me and a mother of two. She told me the story of how she insisted on helping with the harvest even when she was very pregnant with her second child because she felt she owed Geralt for bailing out her husband when he had gotten in with the wrong crowd some time before. Geralt had told her time and again that she should stay home and that it was okay to do so. But no, Cora insisted. Dear reader, can you guess what happened? Rhetorical question, I know you can. The labor pains started right when she was in the middle of work, somewhere far out in a field. Geralt happened to be close by – not that it would have been necessary. With his hearing he would have picked up on her screams from far away. Cora laughed when she told me this. She was squatting and pushing since there was no time to be lost (fast-birthing hips, she said), screaming at Geralt, who was only qualified to deal with a completely different type of situation that involved bleeding and screaming. But he was the one to catch baby Etienne the moment he evacuated his mother's body. So, there they were: Cora, collapsed. Etienne, covered in blood and mucus, screaming his little head off. And Geralt, the involuntary midwife, suddenly holding a baby and having no idea what to do with it. That was five years ago and I'm happy to report they all made it out psychologically unscathed. I've seen Etienne occasionally jump around the stables or run up to Geralt to hug his leg and then run off again. Guess they had a bonding moment back in that field.

Knowing how much he cared about the people in his life, it broke my heart when he told me about his situation, about his very specific type of mistreatment, especially after I had just gotten a taste of it.

I consider myself to be of average attractiveness (say, a seven on a good hair day), so I never had to deal with harassment to this degree but I am familiar with it. Which means I did understand what an evening without being bothered would have meant to him, particularly after having learned what people occupy themselves with in their thoughts.

But my witcher was in luck as for once I possessed exactly what was needed to fight his monsters. I graduated from the school of fake movie romances for societal purposes with summa cum laude. Being the undervalued genius that I am, I suggested what I had seen happening in movies all the time – because this is pretty much a fairytale so it had to work, right?

Dear reader, you must know I am rather shy since I have experienced my fair share of rejection. Therefore, I have no idea where I took the courage from to even suggest he should pretend that we are an item. The idea, that someone like him would want to be with someone like me in a romantic context, seemed so outlandish even after his kind words. After all, I'm not special, not a sorceress with enhanced beauty (which, according to what I had read and heard, seemed to be the necessary bare minimum requirement to be desirable to him).

But as it turned out I am not immune to flattery and my self-confidence inflated like a confused pufferfish. I also had some wine – still don't like it but for that evening alcohol was what I needed. So I decided to do it spinal tap style (the band, not the medical procedure) and turn it up to 11.

We played an act, pretended to be a couple. It felt a little strange at the beginning but I had the impression that we both slipped into our roles effortlessly. I assume it only went this well because we had gotten so familiar with each other and there was a certain trust between us. It might have been a whole lot less compelling otherwise. I don't remember the last time I had this much fun.

I'm not sure how many people we actually convinced but when he kissed me… Well, I was convinced (which, you know, shouldn't be a thing since I was in on the act). I have never, in my entire life, felt so wanted. There I was, back in those strong arms. The way he held me, kissed me, was all I needed in life. The way his beard scratched my skin felt divine – I wanted to never let go.

But when I did, to preserve a shred of dignity and try to pretend that I was not completely done for, it took me all the effort I could muster.

I was afraid that he had seen right through me then, knew that I was just like all the others, wanted him like all the others, and that he would try to get rid of me too. Because I just am that kind of stupid. To want the man who just told me, literally just told me, he only wanted to be left alone. But miraculously, he did not tell me to get the hell out. Perhaps he didn't see it and I'm a better actress than I give myself credit for or maybe he just didn't mind for this one evening, maybe it was the wine – I don't know.

Much later, when we were alone, he seemed to even ask for another kiss. Which, of course, I provided happily despite my fear of this being the end. But, maybe because I was intoxicated by that beautiful evening, there was that minimum amount of courage that I needed. Wanting to feel him again did the rest. It was even me who kissed him – that is just how much I wanted this. For how cautious and soft he was with me on any other occasion, his kisses were rough, unapologetic and untamed. And I loved it.

And now? I want more, so much more.

So congratulations me, for falling for someone who is from an entirely different world and time period and who is also several times my age. Can't see how that could possibly go south.

I can't stop thinking about the way he touched me when he removed my dress - I get hot and cold just writing this down. If he ever touches me like this again I might not be able to pretend anything anymore. I might just beg him to rip off my clothes and proceed as usual. And then write that down too because something tells me that this would be the type of memory that needs to be cherished.

That would probably be our last interaction though, because if he realizes that I am just like all the others… he will kick me out, I am certain, and I can't even be mad at him.

I hardly slept that night, as I always do the first night in a new place. Geralt and I were huddled into our blankets but he seemed to find the storm, which had abruptly ended the festivities, much less thrilling than I did and seemed to doze off every now and then. So I put him to bed and traveled the long way to the other side of the ridiculously large bed. I was wondering if I should have made a fuss at some point about not wanting to share the bed with him, you know, pretend to be a decent young woman etc. But it seemed ridiculous not only considering the size of the bed but also the fact that Geralt and I had become so close over the past few weeks. With all that crazy mumbo-jumbo going on, distancing myself from someone who made me feel welcome and cared for was about the last thing I wanted.

Anyway, imagine my surprise when, after a few hours, I noticed that Geralt had rolled all the way over to me in his sleep, looking like a messy sushi roll with one leg and one arm sticking out of his blanket. I dozed off for a short while and when I woke up again, he had cuddled up against me. And there I was, back in the exact place I wanted to be. I gave up on trying to sleep and just enjoyed feeling him against me. Sleep was not going to deprive me from that experience for even a minute.

Except when it did, long after the sun had risen. I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up again I had practically buried my face in his naked chest. And his arms? Still there, still holding me tight, not rejecting me for whatever reason. I wasn't sure what to make of that. Did we maybe just extend our little charade until we were to leave the palace? I think he said something to me, but I don't remember because I fell asleep again.

Now that I think about it, maybe this didn't even happen and I was just dreaming? After all, there is a whole lot of wishful thinking involved in this.

I noticed one thing though, dear reader. That feeling I described earlier, the sock that was slipping off my foot… or brain? That feeling was gone. All of a sudden, after that stormy night, I felt like I had been properly rooted in this strange new world. I wonder if there is any meaning to it or if this is just what happens if you spent a sleepless night in the arms of someone you desire.

Feel free to discuss.

Two problems remain:

1) I might have promised Geralt to show him what twerking is. Sadly, while my hips don't lie my mouth certainly did because I can't twerk for the life of me.

2) Jokes aside, something is happening again. I noticed it this morning and it's so strange that I don't even want to write it down yet. Because, whatever the reason for it may be, it's not good. I've been doing nothing other than rummaging through my brain, trying to make out a cause, having no capacity to process anything else. It is scary and I have a sense that something else is heavily implied in it. But I don't want to write it down, I don't want to challenge fate or whatever and make it final by putting it into words. Not yet anyway. Let's just hope it'll clear up on its own.