[Of your line. They are words she had only ever dreamed to hear. The elation and confusion together strike her dumb for a handful of seconds. Geralt's voice and urgency return her to the moment. They can't have a foreign mage run umoored here.
He's their child.
Their future.]
Hurry.
[Without another word to the Sculptor, she pulls at the Witcher, guiding him through the crowd to the narrow corridors beyond the large hall the throng takes up.]
no subject
He's their child.
Their future.]
Hurry.
[Without another word to the Sculptor, she pulls at the Witcher, guiding him through the crowd to the narrow corridors beyond the large hall the throng takes up.]