[ Poor bastard. An inaccurate image of Geralt collapsed against a wall in depression, polaroids of breasts and asses fluttering desolately around him, tickles her into another fit. ]
And it takes Geralt a while, but he does eventually send her a picture of himself, focused on his torso. Arms a little awkward, he obviously doesn't know how to pose for anything. And why would he? Bare from the middle up, his shirt is in a ball in his lap. The shot cuts off at his throat, all his scars and sparse chest hair on display. (Sometimes a ladyfriend will wax it off, which can be very enjoyable. No matter how manly you are, pelts are difficult when half your skin is scar tissue.) ]
[ The intensity reaches through the grey haze of his dampened understanding. ]
It's a misnomer I guess but we're not normal the chemicals that replace our natural ones do things to the makeup of our brains to keep us from panicking and to keep us neutral Makes shit different
[ This poorly thought-out pic exchange's turned out to be reassuring on a number of levels. ]
You can see pretty clearly, don't you? Kindred (people like me) might be less nasty without panic or rage to make us frenzy. [ Whoa there! Deleting that! ]
I bet you won't need glasses in your old age, either.
[ Geralt's made worse decisions for less freaky sex. At least she's older than Ciri, which he suspects will be the bar from now on. How do you deal with having a massively longer lifespan than most of your social circle? He's got no idea. ]
Little bit. You sent me a picture of your breasts. No going back from that.
[ It's a few minutes, but because she's in the kind of mood where she thinks she's a comedian, Paloma includes another image: a familiar brass tub, starting to fill up. ]
[ Not fucking her brains out in her bathroom in that very tub. ]
I didn't make friends with humans until I was sixty or so I think Before that it was only other witchers and dwarves If I ever get home I'm not sure how I'll feel socializing with people eighty years younger guess everybody in these situations goes through that at some point
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Aim at whatever you think is your best feature?
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[ He's old and pale and scarred, like ... what would he photograph. His dick ?? he's not gettin that out. ]
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[ Good joke. He likes it.
And it takes Geralt a while, but he does eventually send her a picture of himself, focused on his torso. Arms a little awkward, he obviously doesn't know how to pose for anything. And why would he? Bare from the middle up, his shirt is in a ball in his lap. The shot cuts off at his throat, all his scars and sparse chest hair on display. (Sometimes a ladyfriend will wax it off, which can be very enjoyable. No matter how manly you are, pelts are difficult when half your skin is scar tissue.) ]
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Think I feel a song coming on...
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until you're friends with a bard and it happens
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Did he sing about your breasts, Geralt?
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[ She can ask Lambert at her own risk - more likely to get a hateful rant about the famous Geralt of Rivia instead of anything funny. ]
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So, you're saying your tits are totally art.
I really like that confidence in a person. Can you spare some?
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I like yours this way
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Thanks, Geralt. Normally people don't care for their... volume.
Emotionless seems like an inaccurate word to describe you?
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[ The intensity reaches through the grey haze of his dampened understanding. ]
It's a misnomer I guess
but we're not normal
the chemicals that replace our natural ones do things to the makeup of our brains
to keep us from panicking and to keep us neutral
Makes shit different
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You can see pretty clearly, don't you?
Kindred (people like me) might be less nasty without panic or rage to make us frenzy.[ Whoa there! Deleting that! ]I bet you won't need glasses in your old age, either.
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colors humans don't understand
How old do you think I am
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[ Just sort of tweaking the higher number down from sixty, which is the actual upper range of her estimation. ]
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[ He knows his SICK ABS don't look old, at least. ]
I think 100
could be more by now I'm not sure
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I'm twenty-three. That's not a problem, right?
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[ Geralt's made worse decisions for less freaky sex. At least she's older than Ciri, which he suspects will be the bar from now on. How do you deal with having a massively longer lifespan than most of your social circle? He's got no idea. ]
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[ It's a few minutes, but because she's in the kind of mood where she thinks she's a comedian, Paloma includes another image: a familiar brass tub, starting to fill up. ]
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[ Not fucking her brains out in her bathroom in that very tub. ]
I didn't make friends with humans until I was sixty or so
I think
Before that it was only other witchers and dwarves
If I ever get home I'm not sure how I'll feel socializing with people eighty years younger
guess everybody in these situations goes through that at some point
or they're eternal fucking weirdos
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I met a few with one or a few centuries under their belt. First one coming to mind is a real freaking asshole, or was.
Sobering stuff. It's almost as if the older people get, the more determined they are to go crazy. Present company excepted?
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The oldest people I've ever known have been the best
barring one elf
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[ Ha. But actually. With their feeding habits, and their funky high-inducing bites, and sometimes a Teflon steel vag. ]
Thank you for the reassurances. I'm taking a bath for real, do you want one last shot? For luck?
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