This Is So Pure. The Joy On This Man's Face When Food Is Involved~

This is so pure. The joy on this man's face when food is involved~

You know what we don't talk about enough? Thorin's sandwich-serving skills

✨MASTERLIST ✨

Feel like jumping onboard to a high-stakes, cyber-synthwave hacker mystery in the stars? Or do you wanna cozy up and tuck into an adventure tale from the back of a trusty horse- with swords and magic on your side?... Just want to deep dive into headcanons from your favorite worlds?? I'm sure there's something for you here!

My plans currently sit within 4 main storylines in my favorite fandoms, though there will be one shots and headcanons welcome for any and all of these. I'm also not limited to the fanbases I'm currently writing for... There's plenty more I'd love to dabble in. Let's see where the writing adventure takes us, shall we?

Take a peek at my stories to come, or send me your burning questions about the fandoms below... I'm always up for a chat!

For my Star Wars | Mandalorian Masterlist, check it out here!

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Stay a while and read on, friends~

A Stroke of Luck: The Witcher AU

Art Credit: Pinterest

What if the Butcher of Blaviken had a stroke of good luck for once- or if fate can let him have it, twice? Let him catch his breath in the form of an un-problematic woman: one without decades of emotional baggage and mutagen-festered turmoil wrenching into his love life… A lass graced with charm and humour in droves... but with a soulful, caring spirit unlike any he'd ever met.

There's no magic to be seen in her- but instead a crafty skill set and sound mind has kept her alive, only with a gentle touch in a cruel world. He can hardly believe the reprieve he's found in this unsuspecting friend- an herbalist with a listening ear for a man who’s heard and seen it all. What if Geralt of Rivia just had something nice for once... and that made all the difference in the hellscape of monsters that is the life of a Witcher?

Wouldn’t that be a welcome change of pace for the body and mind and heart- to have something sweeter to look forward to at the end of a contract…

A/N: Enter Ken'elrena of Dun Dâre- or Kenna, as the kiddos call her. The nickname is much easier to slip off the tongue- Geralt’s especially. He’s finding he likes that name more and more each time they cross paths. And now? Well, now he's not so sure he ever wants to go separate ways from her for long…

ASoL: main story (multi-chapter) ~ Release TBD will be weekly installments!

ASoL: Character sheet | Kenna ~ Release TBD

ASoL: Character sheet | Geralt ~ Release TBD

Teaser One-shot: ~ Behind the Bar

Teaser one-shot: ~ Night Walks and Good Talks

ASoL: The Midland Years ~ Release TBD

Dropped in Middle Earth: Sanâzyun

Art Credit: 'The Hall of the Mountain King's JeiWo on DeviantArt

Sanâzyun: perfect love

That's what Thorin began calling this woman in secret- 8 months ago. She'd wrapped up bits of leftovers for the Company in a thoughtful move, calling them all to 'pack snacks and make tracks, gents!' From that day on, something warmed him deep inside his hardy chest when she snuck his treat into his jacket pocket with utmost care. Good thing their Agreement is still on, and she doesn't suspect a thing-- yet.

To Tessa, wizards were fabled as a bunch of kids going to a school to learn their magic or a mouse dressed in a blue, starry hat making brooms come to life~ not dinner guests by the name of Gandalf. She calls this whole turn of fate 'wizard shit'; but doesn't question it and tagged along the Company of dwarves for the ride. But perhaps there's more at work -and more within her- that is magical, and only just out of reach- or just out of key. Time will tell when the dust settles after the Battle of the Five Armies to find out what brought her here, and how the quest for home didn't end when the Company arrived to Erebor.

A/N: DiME: Sanâzyun is my take on a modern lass gets dropped into Middle Earth-- but there's no craving to go back to 2022 anytime soon! While figuring out this plot twist only ever heard of in the movies, Tessa DeVon makes sense of the new life she's making with her Dwarven found family and takes each day as it comes. The clash of cultures and learning curve is both jarring and laughable; because if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Plenty of feelings, fix-its, and lore-ridden fantasy in this expansion of the Hobbit Epilogue: the beloved Durins Live AU is in full swing here!

One-Shot: Erebor is your Rome

One-Shot: Better Angels

One-Shot: A Scar and its Story

One-Shot: Want for Nothing

DiME: Sanâzyun timeline~ Release TBD

Journal Entries: song list ~ Release TBD

Journal Entries: animals ~ Release TBD

Letters from the Shire (collection) ~ Release TBD

Story One-shots (Collection): ~ Release TBD

DiME: Sanâzyun character sheet: Tessa DeVon ~ Release TBD

Fili Headcanons ~ Release TBD

Kili Headcanons ~ Release TBD

Rex: Heart of a Soldier

Art Credit: Pinterest

At the bustling center of our favorite galaxy far, far away lies Coruscant: the center of the Grand Army of the Republic's operations and home to the Jedi Temple alike, but also the start line of a greater danger than a mere galactic war between Republic and Separatist politics... The holonet brings even the most unlikely of allies together, but is also the perfect chance to be the playground of havoc and chaos if tampered by the wrong hands.

To stay a step ahead of the bad guys, a charming, tech-savvy lone wolf is called to action with a team of unlikely friends for an even more unlikely job: slice for the good guys. Until now, she's operated in a world of gray- this shift into army life is sure to test her ties and trust. Though maybe the 501st's star Captain can help her rise to the occasion... and perhaps he can learn more in turn about this big 'ole galaxy he's been exposed to. With enough encouragement, hope, and examination of the heart, Rex may even try his hand at imagining a life after the war.

A/N: This story's got it all: a beautiful, sassy, Angel-Eyes love story for our dear, darling Captain Rex (who deserves the world), a hacker race-to-the-finish saga with twists and turns across the galaxy, easter eggs for Star Wars fans young and old, and a platonic soulmate thread that spans long after the war is over.

Love Found the Captain (snippet)

Quit Flirting? Not a Chance. (one-shot)

Rex: HOAS (multi-chapter) ~ Release TBD will be weekly installments!

HOAS Arc 2 | ((unnamed Book 2) ~ Release TBD

HOAS Arc 3 | ((unnamed Book 3)) ~ Release TBD

Rex: HOAS character sheet: Sawyer Lyubava ~ Release TBD

R: HOAS character sheet: Root ~ Release TBD

R: HOAS character sheet: Agent ~ Release TBD

R: HOAS character sheet: Bootstrap ~ Release TBD

R: HOAS character sheet: Query~ Release TBD

Tea Time (one-shot) ~ Release TBD

Who doesn't know how to make caf? (drabble) ~ Release TBD

501st Headcanons ~ Release TBD

HOAS Spicy Headcanons ~ Release TBD

Slicing for Nerf-Herders | resource guide

My Hero Academia: Triple Threat

One text from a former mentor led to a chain of emails...Then a four hour phone conference... Then an impromptu, three-way Zoom call between a language ambassador, an ex-hero turned teacher, and a quirk doctor who all agreed to some wild terms and set a plan in motion. Given the resources among the three, they posed an unlikely– but deadly– Triple Threat.

A/N: Three powerhouse women-- whether they believe themselves to be or not-- are teaming up for a triple threat force heading to Japan. Plenty of Marvel and DC content to bring this story to life, all in the current world of Kohei Horikoshi's My Hero Academia. The Hero Worlds of East and West collide; readers will find little bits and pieces from your heroes around the world in this fic! Plenty of Marvel and DC content help bring this story to life.

MHA: Triple Threat (multi-chapter) ~ Release TBD

Prologue ~ Release TBD

Erebor is your Rome

Pairing: Thorin x Tessa (Modern OC)

Words: 3,028

Ratings: Gen Audience

Warnings: none

A/N: Hello Tumblr! Here's the first of my headcanons that finally took written form~ only 8 years in the making... no time like the present, right?? This one-shot is an intro to Tessa DeVon, her delightful bond with the Dwarf King, and a snapshot of their story in-the-making.

Summary: While Thorin Oakenshield sets to work bringing some semblance of order to rebuilding Erebor, he's not invincible. He gathers his wits a moment and takes a spell in his inner chambers -the door still-ajar - just the invitation for the Company's Unexpected Darling to come have a chat and offer one of her trademark pep talks; as best as a millennial can manage. After making her mark in Middle Earth after taking a Journey with them like no other, life under the Mountain is a learning curve for all.

New to Erebor, sure, but Tessa's full of wisdom in her own right.. and perhaps that's all Thorin needs.

Read on AO3

Just past the hour, Tessa entered the open door and paused at the tension seeping around her. Around the great table in the center rose the heated points of each of the visiting heads-of-house. Their words laced in Khuzdul bounced off the aged, carved walls up to the ceiling.

She cast an unspoken question with lifted, worried brows- just a quick once over to each of the dwarf lords (all of whom paid no attention to her arrival), once to their newly instated King (she noted, with a less than subtle appreciation of today’s choice of vest), then to Balin, to see if she should clear out.

Thorin muttered something in confidence to Balin over his left shoulder, then strode towards his study with a long, rough sigh. Then an announcement later, Balin shooed the others out of the chambers straight away.

Tessa flowed with the exiting movement, favoring the near side of the door to see everyone out, planning to leave last. Chin tipped up to acknowledge each as they passed, Tessa stayed at the threshold until her dear friend reached her side -only to be stopped by the arm when she turned to follow suit–

“Not you, dear,” Balin said, were it so obvious by his laugh, “You’re the one he needs right now.”

So here Tessa remained- the only soul left in the once chaotic room, per Balin’s excusal.

The order– didn’t apply to her?

Although Tessa wasn't sure if it actually didn’t pertain to her or if Balin was simply trying to meddle with the rules for Thorin’s sake, the woman remained in the doorway with her thoughts. Tossing away the time for second guessing, Tessa simply entered further: after Thorin.

Closing the heavy oaken door behind her, the empty King’s study felt smaller than it looked. Surely this was due to the stark quiet in here compared to the room she’d just left. The office sat nearly untouched in these past few decades, save for the workable space of the green-veined stone worktable- once home to Thror’s entire docket of business back in Erebor’s high Age. Its spread was filled with business again of another caliber- one that rests in his grandson’s hands: to bring to glory everything that had been dormant under the Mountain’s years of abandonment and decay.

Thorin sat. looking every bit as miffed as he looked when he left– not in the regal chair of the table’s head, but in a simple attendee’s seat, with barely any cushion to speak of. Sunken arms of the dwarf King propped upon open knees in the posture hardly fitting of someone of this station.

Tessa learned through observation early on; Thorin often pushed his chair sideways when taking an audience, to catch the sunlight rather than have his back to it. Its warmth and brightness was likely something he missed, but never confessed so. Though now, even at its afternoon peak, the streaks of shine gave no joy like they usually did.

A bare rap of knocking against the threshold’s grain made to alert him of someone’s presence. Thorin glanced at the hollow sound but didn’t speak. It registered when he looked up to her that Balin was right; Thorin sunk in relief again, letting down knowing his audience had finally left.

Reading a downcast face was Tessa’s innate specialty; so was the role she took as the token ‘mom friend’ in her university days. But breaching the topics behind such frustration as Thorin showed – especially regarding those of complex, ‘dwarven matters’– was not something she was familiar with. How could she, really; her experience with dwarves as an outsider was decidedly short, no matter how much they immersed her into their comings and goings. This would be her curse even should she stay for the next hundred years– she’d never know Middle Earth as well as her friends here; even now as she called it her home.

For his sanity, Tessa risked the walk. Resolved to be there to listen, if nothing else.

That softened feeling in her sought Thorin’s side, close to the desk… toeing the line close enough to the edge of the armrest– within his reach, if he wanted.

“Hey, you.” Tessa spoke life into the room by voice alone.

The dwarves’ King looked lost, studying the end of Tessa’s dress with focused effort.

“They are evenly split,” Thorin inferred the council’s ‘determination’. “After sixty years of poverty and loss, they cannot make a single, unanimous ‘aye’ for the life of me…”

So, the talks were not going well. This had to be discouraging. Considering the impromptu committee had planned to convene long before lunch– and it was now past noon...

“It’s a complete state of friction, no cooperation.” Thorin spoke his mind, “Have you been here all this time?”

“No,” Tessa chimed back pitifully, “Finished inventory in the Northwest Hall from yesterday. Just thought I’d check in, see how things were going.”

“You’ve caught us in a recess, then,” he sighed.

Tessa firmed her lips, listening.

“Nothing new, this.” He gestured to the plans before him- notes and scraps more than outlines and ledgers, “--the prospect of re-imagining Erebor, life within the mountain: this is a rare chance to start things over. A thing of purpose, of destiny. My grandfather kept such meetings close to the chest, and even closer like minds. I always thought more could be done, saw potential we never had the chance to build. Silly me, I opened the floor for our extended kin to ‘speak freely’. I never imagined such stubborn minds would greet us after so much time away.”

Non-stubborn dwarves?... That concept sounded nigh impossible. By definition, dwarves were hard-headed– even Tessa’s fairy tales depicted them that way.

“I’m no expert, but I’m not sure those two words can exist in the same sentence, hon.”

“I cannot argue that.” Thorin ceded. “But even so, this opportunity should lend itself perfectly to our kind, Tessa. To utilize talents of all kinds and trades… Would the noble houses not defer to each other? Ones who have worked in such conditions, who’ve accomplished projects of this scope? Have we become so set in our ways, scattered across the land of Men… We have carpenters here; smiths, masons- all at the ready- to understand even the-…” he spat and mumbled through a stiffened jaw.

At the arm of his seat, Tessa settled in to hear out his concerns. She flipped her palm upward in an offer. His stern eyes fluttered at the gesture, then softened at the sight, bound to accept it.

Falling into their habit of touch- the tender thing neither spoke of- Thorin’s giant thumb took its job to rub the top,

“I swear, whatever this Mountain’s so-called King imagined to be a uniting task, has made him a bloody fool.”

“Thorin-...”

Tessa stopped that negative-self talk in its tracks. A sweet smile graced Tessa’s lips as she said so, disagreeing with any talk that put Thorin in a bad light… even if such words came from his own mouth.

A dark memory turned to a reserved calm behind his eyes and his tone,

“Smithing in Ered Luin was tiring, backbreaking work… but what I might give to return to a job that was honest. Provided enough to meet needs. I can assure you, it didn't drive me to quarreling madness…” Thorin studied the softened fingers in his grasp.

This quiet moment from him: vulnerability at its finest. Thorin’s gaze fell back to the hands encasing his with a level breath,

“I know I should be patient,” even through temper, he could anticipate Tessa’s faithful answers, “but a room stuffed to the gills with dissent and conflict– nonstop– for half a day’s working hours, I cannot help but remember… this is not the life I envisioned for you.”

The release of his name left Tessa’s chest again, leaving no choice but to close the gap between his legs. Pure empathy brought her hand from his to clasp Thorin’s shoulder and bring the entire torso of the hero before her into her waiting embrace. Following the flow of her movements, Thorin found himself slumping to press his forehead into her stomach.

Unseen by his Council, his mind spun– past and present pressure warring. Now, he sought her for grounding with naught but a hand to her waist. If she could just numb him long enough to rest the growing throb in his temples…

With that gentle press of her hand onto the back of his head, perhaps she could.

“Well, Thorin,” Tessa lightened, “I didn’t really have a plan prior to my deciding to stay here. I had no vision to be crushed, so you’re hardly disappointing me.”

A chuff of warm air flared through a certain dwarf’s nose from his hiding spot.

“I mean, this is a huge step up from squirrel stew and the canvas sleeping mats.” she teased, the memories flickered in the mind like the lanterns along the walls. “Not that those things didn’t have their charm! But I can’t say a girl like me wouldn’t love the velvet getups and shiny bits that came with settling down in a place like this... You didn’t even need to do that much, Your Highly Majestic-ness. Consider me ‘right spoiled’~.”

Naturally, a displeased grunt masked his amused smirk. “You know my meaning, lass…”

Tessa chuckled. Grumpy dwarf. If she could lift his spirits first, then the head would follow.

“We have a saying where I’m from:” Tessa offered in this quiet moment, “-‘Rome wasn’t built in a day.’-”

Thorin hummed again, peppered with interest this time.

“I didn’t ever have a chance to go abroad to see it in person- much less see the city in its heyday; it sat clear on the far side of the world. The whole country is shaped like a boot, it’s a peninsula with water all around it. But it’s a place we all learned about in our studies.” Tessa set the scene as simply as she could manage in a few refrains, “Rome was the birthplace of arguably the greatest empire in my world’s history- host of all sorts of things; how we made multi-lane roads, waterworks, even how we perform life-saving surgeries. Things like music and sculptures too– gosh, so much art, you wouldn’t believe… If you looked back on it, models from the Roman Empire grew over time into the way we do things today.”

The draw of Thorin’s waves tempted Tessa’s fingers, but she didn't feel like crossing that line just yet- it’s a private one, and a very serious matter, Balin says.

“But I think it’s safe to say,” Tessa swayed a little in her step, “Given the scope of this place, this world, everything you’ve told me you remember about growing up here… What this mountain meant for the North all those years ago? Erebor is your Rome.”

… Forehead still pressed to her sternum, Thorin’s head cocked.

“You say Erebor was a marvel- is a marvel-” Tessa corrected herself, taking a few stray fingers atop the runs of silver through her King’s hair. “Anyone can say they can imagine something great, think they know how to tackle something huge, all by themselves– but the second they’d try and fail on the first go, they’d write it off. Call the challenge something that’s too far gone. For such a great place, there has to be a great vision; and I’d bet on anything that you have that vision.”

Tessa trailed off just as she mapped his waves. Something about Thorin not looking at her directly made her more brave.

It’s those eyes of his, she mused, makes my brain turn to mush. Maybe it’s better this way; he needs to hear this, and I’d never get the nerve to tell him staring at me with those baby blues.

“You can’t help but see the potential, because you remember it at its height. To know what Erebor was, but also what it needs to be, now. It’s a different time, different age now- just like you said. It only makes sense that it’s what’s freshest in your mind coming back home, tattered as it is right now. And in the interim, you’ve lived in such a variety of places, so you’ve been inspired to grow. Bringing in the things you know and make it even greater.”

This seemed to strike a cord. Thorin tilted his head fully, looking askance yet comfortable in his spot to think.

“Any city can be great, sure. You can rebuild Erebor just like any other king before you. That being said, I know something else for a fact, too.”

The edge of hair hiding Thorin’s eyes begged to be pushed back,

“Given the state we’re all in, there’s no doubt this place needs more than a fair share of elbow grease. But I’ll promise you this…There’s something more to be said of the man who refuses to give up on it. And even more–”

A tip of the chin up, Tessa turned Thorin’s jaw up.

“--building his mind and heart up in a healthy place while he works at what he’s after? That means more to me than anything else. More than how many studded halls or linens or comforts he can give, or how fast it goes up. That’ll all come back to the mountain in droves… I only have one you. So when you wanna call a recess, you call the recess.”

A contented sigh left him. While the sound proved enough that he seemed happier to have been consoled, Tessa missed the ghost of a smirk that accompanied it.

With another hand passing over the divide of his (unfairly beautiful) part, the Company’s resident darling pivoted,

“How are you sleeping?” Tessa asked.

“I’m exhausted.” the deep whisper answered.

“Did you eat today?”

A pause, “...Not as much as you might like to see.”

Tessa bit the urge to scold back. He had the decency to look guilty about the negligence, after all.

“Then there's a good place to start.” Thorin earned himself a little backscratch, “The body is a forge- it needs fuel to light it. A good supper can sustain it enough to carry light for hours, even well into the night if needed.”

Thorin nuzzled against her -a nod, more like. This position caused muffling of his usually crisp-cut words into her waistcoat.

“You could pass as a dwarrowdam with talk like that.”

“I’m picking up some new metaphors,” the pride fluttered in her voice. “Is it working?”

“You are helping my mood, and you’re endlessly amusing…” Thorin caressed her hip, unable to stave off the smile.

Tessa quirked her lip, perched atop his head. “The accent needs work.”

“Hah- I’ll say.”

An aire in her laugh, Tessa knelt to meet his eyes.

God, he looks tired, yet now he seemed not so miserable than at the start.

“You know, I really would have liked to have known you sooner…” Tessa leaned onto his lap- “To have watched you spend time as a king already, way before this whole getup…”

“Sweet as you are–” Thorin hushed the sentiment, not unkindly, “I was hardly a king of old during our people’s time in exile. I guarantee you, you’d have been sorely underwhelmed by the name of ‘Durin’…”

“You led in the ways that mattered.”

“Out of Balin’s mouth to yours..” Thorin gave a playful wrench under Tessa’s chin.

Tessa shook it off with a smile of her own. The Company formed to bolster Thorin Oakenshield was not something to be overlooked,

“Well, he wasn’t wrong. Providing a way of life? In so many cities, for as many as were dependent on you? You amaze me already; how easy you make it look. ‘N even when it’s hard, you’re not above calling those you trust to help you. You made sure to keep a reliable circle close.”

In her comfort, Tessa barely registered– she’d sunk into Thorin’s hand as he held her cheek, adoring her.

“These are all the marks of a truly good man, to me– not a fool in the slightest. With a mind like yours and a work ethic to back it up, that’s how I know you can do this.”

Finally– a prized crinkle graced beside the dwarf’s eye. What a well-won smile. The reward for all Tessa’s doting: easily her favorite sight in all of Middle Earth.

“At the same time,” she brought herself back to the present- not ogling him, mind you– “I know it’s easy for me to say, I’m on the outside. I know it’s harder in your position… and that's why I want to be here for you ok? With proper care, that patience you need will follow. And the ‘impasses you need like a hole in the head’ will fade away. Bit by bit, under your hand.”

Thorin tested the idea again: “ ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’.”

“Sure wasn’t,” Tessa promised. “Just brick by brick.”

Thorin set a kind look back, drawing Tessa in by her jaw to grant her brow bone a kiss and met her forehead.

The last time Tessa gave a glorified TED Talk to the financial minds in the newly renovated Treasury, Thorin had been awestruck to the point where he didn’t even hide his sidebar with Bilbo: ‘What a queen she’ll make, Master Baggins’ he’d said. This touch spoke just as much as that moment, weeks before.

And to be true, his mind was indeed more sound now thanks to her, like rain washed over a steaming batch of coals to a bearable temperature.

“Care to share any expert opinions on how this Rome was built?” Thorin murmured into the space between them. “Any trade secrets your world would not mind you parting?”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly there 1800-something years ago to see it. But I’m pretty sure it all started with getting a decent meal in the Emperor’s stomach before lifting a finger on any ordinance.” Tessa rose to pull him up to height. “Even I find a snack does wonders before picking fights with assholes at the council table, that’s for sure~.”

What should have happened:

(Bilbo sees each head pop out)

//walks down the line//

(boops each snoot)

hi thorin

Night Walks and Good Talks

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Kenna (Herbalist OC)

Words: 5,558

Ratings: Teen/Up Audience

Warnings: mild descriptions of injury/poison; none

A/N: Another rest point for the Witcher and Kenna… these little moments are few and far between for two widely-versed travellers! Kenna may have a chance to settle down on the horizon… what will Geralt think of this news? And what might she think when more is shared about how her strong, silent Witcher really sees himself. This is a one-shot set a little time after the start of my upcoming fic, A Stroke of Luck; enjoy~

Summary:   

Kenna learns more about Geralt’s motives during his visit tonight. She knows he's looking for someone, and is spending any moment of quiet he can chance to rest up and plan his next move while he’s on the search. A certain buzz in her belly has been acting up whenever he comes around, though– and it’s making her more curious by the day.

Geralt values Kenna’s help and ear, tonight as always. Rare find, to have a friend to catch-up with who’s not engrossed in politics and stress and all the hazards of the day. He can just unwind with Kenna in the cool of a night like this, taking a walk to clear the lungs and keep her tucked under his arm… something he– doesn’t realize he’s doing until she walks in stride with him. For some reason, it just feels natural and he’s not so sure he wants it to stop. Still, he wonders how much he can really confide in her, or risk changing her view of him entirely.

Read on AO3

Kenna

When Kenna lifted her gaze from her tablespoon’s careful measurements at the light of the opening door, a welcome sight crossed the threshold. She scrunched her nose familiarly to greet Geralt as he strode into the tavern’s landing. It’s been almost three days now that he’s been out on hunts around the outskirts. The contracts he picked up were personal favours to follow up on recently, so he said before he set off. 

Geralt nodded back with tired eyes, but a firm-lipped smile back. The two shared an understanding that when her hands were busy with something small, accuracy was likely needed. 

Ever the hostess, Kenna would normally assure him that she would come over to his table soon when she arrived at a stopping point— but she froze, and looked to him again in a comical double-take:

Melitele’s freakish Grace and Favour… 

Geralt got a haircut. A good one.

Positioned from his perfect side profile, Kenna watched as the Witcher shed his swords and was currently reloading and aligning his crossbow at the bench of his table, nearest the fire. While his habitual maintenance was nothing new, her sights fixed on his now edgy undercut, shorn from the base of his neck up just so until a low-pulled ponytail gathered the rest of his hair. His beard also has been trimmed up, likely by the same barber. Its white and grey flecks mixed together more noticeably now in a shorter length, but still visible enough to catch the amber light.

Kenna caught herself. Not from self awareness sending her in a daze- but from a nudge from the owner’s young daughter, who tugged at the bottom of her skirt from the chosen hiding place beneath the table.

“More?” The child whined not-so subtly, and asked for the next batch of jerky to fill her plate.

Kenna huffed a little laugh and slid her a few more pieces from the seasoning rack. 

“Not too much more, kiddo- or else your mama will have my head if I spoiled your dinner. I’ll be right back okay? No snooping up top, hear me?”

The girl munched and swept her pile of dried apricots she’d chosen to play with into her lap, nodding blindly to Kenna’s soft warning.  Satisfied, Kenna deemed it safe enough to leave the child unattended for just a moment.

Wiping her hands of a few stray pollen granules chalking up her fingertips, Kenna slipped behind the bar to fill up a stein and drop it off Geralt's way. 

“Hey, stranger. Welcome back~.”

“Afternoon, Kenna. Thanks-” the Witcher looked up with a soft smile. He took a sip, albeit brief since a question spurred him with a playful snark, “Can’t still think I’m that much of a stranger to you by now, am I?”

Kenna crossed her arms, keeping her flirtatious outburst to a minimum but skewing her lip with interest, 

“Could have fooled me. I’ve never seen your hair up like that. You look like a new man.”

“Hm? Oh yeah,” Geralt clicked the last piece into place to secure his arrow and set it down, leaning back to fully enjoy his drink in the booth. “Got a bit of a shave while I was in Riverdell, east side of Toussaint. Got a friend of a friend there that came recommended.”

“You find a 'friend' everywhere you go, huh?”

“More and more these days- m’glad for any help I can get.”

“Good for you. It’s about time.” 

Kenna supported his efforts always, but couldn't help but cock her head admiring the new head-on angle of his updated look. 

Geralt noted her attention, of course. He always caught on quick to the smallest things. His brevity, initially more set on enjoying his drink, turned inquisitive as he sought her opinion on it.

“Haven’t gone for anything this short before. It was getting a bit warm underneath, so I thought I’d try it out. What do you think?”

“It’s– a good look, I can’t lie.” Kenna complimented with a surprised smile.

Geralt appeared pleased at this. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. You’ll have all the rebel ladies drooling over you,” Kenna sassed busying herself at the counter for a moment- anything to get a grip from leering at him.

Geralt chuckled mirthlessly at this, and shook his head seeking sympathy from the floorboards. Clearly the man wasn’t the sort for vanity.

“Not looking for that kind of attention. From others, I mean… Appreciate your encouragement though.” Geralt winked in her direction. 

Oh did she wish her heart wouldn’t stutter so easily when he did that. 

Muting a nervous school-girl laugh, Kenna plated Geralt up some of the same jerky and some tart field strawberries and stopped off at his table one more time. Getting back to her work would give her enough incentive to finish up and spend the evening she wanted with the ever enticing Witcher.

“Well, intentional lady killer or not,”Kenna centered back on him, “it’s a nice look on you and I do like it. I gotta take care of a few things, but we’ll catch up later, yeah? I wanna hear about that job taking you all the way to Beauclaire.  I bet the food was a-mazing.”

Geralt fingered around for one of the berries before eating it whole and nodding back. 

“I won’t spoil it for you. Take your time.”

And take her time she did. Kenna went back to her portioning and child-care for the next few hours while Geralt simply sat content to care for his weapons and eat. 

Kenna caught glances at Geralt a few times when her eye wandered. As early evening grew closer, he’d be reading over some papers and writing on occasion by the oil lamplight as the sun started going down. Kenna rested in the fact that at least Geralt was taking a break in his own way to gather his thoughts- and in an environment that was more comfortable than being stuck out in the middle of a forest all alone. At least here, she could grant him a refill or two and give him another human to talk to. Not that Roach was ever to be considered poor company...

With sunset came the usual dinner rush and patrons spilling in to rest in the early evening firelight. Each table filled up quickly, parties catching up with friends of their own while Dandelion started regaling the small hall with storysongs to pass the time. He was well received here; Kenna knew he would be. Given Roggeven’s strong positioning on the river, travellers from all over would come into the Gull’s Nest sooner or later on their visit- and would be excited to recognize Dandelion by name and want to come enjoy his repertoire. All was going according to plan here on this stop and for that, Kenna was grateful- and more willing to put up with the small gigs that bookended this stop along the way to the shining goal of setting up in Novigrad. 

Providing favours and independent sales of her goods were proving very profitable, actually- and efficient as she hoped her portable enterprise could be. Fortune certainly favoured her in Roggeven, and for every member of her party... though not quite favouring the body, as it grew more tired by the hour. 

The riverside location of the city was great in terms of walkthrough traffic; but could hardly be called comfortable or quiet accommodations, by that very token. The beds were squished together in their cohabited space, so Kenna roused intermittently to listen to the cacophony of Dandelion’s midnight mumblings, Terrance’s snores, plus each and every drunk carrying on outside. All this from the discomfort of a poorly-boarded bed frame that lifted against her lower back every night…

But to her credit, Kenna was hardly one to complain of lack of sleep. Truthfully, she could operate on little as it was and has slept in far worse conditions out in the wilds. But the toll on the body did have its drawbacks when she was supposedly given the promise of ‘plentiful accommodations' from their host…

With a moment to use the countertop of the worktable as means to help her stretch out her back with a solid grip on something, Kenna twisted about left and right waiting for the satisfying pops to free up the tension lodged between each vertebrae. Spooking a jump up her spine, she heard a low chuckle from over her shoulder. 

Geralt, keenly studying and sipping his ale casually as ever, leaned back against the end of the bar. 

"Had enough excitement for today?" The Witcher’s cheeky stance wryly waited, watching her bend stiffly upright again.

“I wouldn't call today exciting- pretty much the opposite. Boring and a bit repetitive.” Kenna primped around her waistband despite the tie of the apron cutting into her. “-And my back is paying for it. But, it was probably filled with more people and conversation than you care for.”

“You’d be surprised. Went on a bit of a scavenger hunt around the city today. Picked up some clues I’ve had an eye out for. Had to talk to a lot of people. Said 'please' and 'thank you' all day- you’d have been proud.”

Kenna huffed with a weary smile, “Well, look who’s growing up; networking like the best of ‘em.”

Geralt rolled his eyes flatly. “Don’t get too excited. I got what I came for- so it’s back to the lone wolf status for me for a while.”

“You seem pretty habitual for a lone wolf. Communal, even-” Kenna countered, “what, with you turning up everywhere Dandelion's gone recently. We could almost call you a groupie by this point. I think you actually miss seeing some friendly faces.”

“Friendly faces are always worth the visit; those don’t count. I never mind talking with you.” 

Geralt looked off to somewhere in the room, 

“--Now Dandelion? That thorn in my side is hit or miss.”

“Ouch, poor Dandie!” Kenna hushed a giggle down her chest, not wanting to betray her friend so blatantly, but still tickled by Geralt’s blunt delivery.

Poor bard, singing about the room unaware of the snide remarks… 

Kenna laughed easily at the end of the day, whatever the subject matter of jokes. Even Geralt’s dryness was welcome, after a day of being mannerable and hospitable to reel in clients and customers. Putting on airs and charms galore was tiring, as was effectively babysitting a child on top of her other responsibilities. 

She felt a sinking ease around Geralt every time he came by for a spell- and she hoped he felt the same. This was a nice little habit they were falling into.

Even now as she finished her cleaning up routine and might have normally turned in for the night any other day of the week, Kenna felt a second wind take over. Hands dried, she came to Geralt’s side of the bar to finally catch up properly.

Kenna tossed her apron aside for the first time today.  There were plenty of odd tucks of her shirt around the middle where her corset didn't quite wrap around fully, but at the end of the day, ‘style over substance’ hardly mattered. 

"Whew... No offence to the maestro here, but I could probably use some air, honestly.” 

Geralt hummed at her idea, watching over the room in his standoffish brand of quiet.

The idea came when her lower back cramped at the slightest movement, “Care to join me? Just for a walk around?" 

Geralt agreed, with a quick gulp to down the rest of his drink.

"Couldn’t hurt. Lead the way."

Outside, the air was beginning to cool and fog would be rolling in soon past midnight. The bells had rung the ten o’clock hour not long ago, but many of the ground floor taverns around the city were still alive and well at this point of the night. Here in the docking district, the liveliness of every establishment within four blocks could be heard by their boisterous bouts of laughter, inciting shouts for low-stakes fights, and calls for more and more beer. A jolly enough place to warm up, but maybe too raucous for Kenna’s taste after a day of fielding complaints and orders about the ‘Gull’s Nest Tavern’. 

Kenna hadn’t quite planned on keeping children from touching distillery burners and stove tops, or any other hazard-watching that monopolised her day… The cool, biting air made Kenna realize this was the first time she’d stepped outside since yesterday morning.

Here along the boardwalk’s edge, Kenna and Geralt walked at an unrushed pace. Taller and even-paced, Geralt took the curb along the water’s edge, keen eyes on the ripple patterns and reflective moonbeams skimming the top, while Kenna took in the sight of the stars, lamplights and everything on the side of the streets. This was one of lower tier areas of the staggered city, situated on a precarious hillside. But here on the outskirts closest to the river, the rush of crowded streets made for some rare quiet at night- and for plenty of stars to be visible without the clouds of steam rising about from the city’s daytime activities. Autumn would be around the bend soon which would mean more business in the weeks ahead. Kenna valued sleepy nights like this to be the calm before the storm. 

“How’s your hand doing?”

Geralt piped up from their quiet lull in conversation, calling Kenna’s gaze back to him. 

Kenna hummed, but remembered a moment later. Her hands stayed tucked in her pockets as they walked to keep warm, but she remembered her left digit's canvas wrap was still warming her wrist as it had all day. Became like a second skin, it did- conforming to the curve of her palm while healing, that is.

“Hm? Oh yes- it’s much better. Hasn’t given me much trouble at all the last few days, really.” 

Kenna’s gratefulness shone in her eyes, sliding her hand out and giving it a cursory flip for Geralt to watch the ease of how she could move it now.  

Geralt gave a neutral hum back and a small nod of approval. Simple as he treated the question, Kenna still warmed at the knowledge of how he’d played a role in the remedy of the injury:

Sunrise greeted Geralt’s final stop before heading to Beauclaire, but without Kenna’s presence at the inn as he expected. She would come in a few hours later: nervously shaking and sporting a long, barbed needle embedded on the fleshy outer part of her left hand, a casualty of her foraging. 

As it turns out, Kenna mistakenly selected a more poisonous plant for a mild one to weed through on her early morning walk. 

Having forgotten proper gloves (which, naturally, Geralt groused at her for forgetting after the fact), Kenna stumbled inside making a beeline for her quarters. Even from a distance, he heard the woman managing small winces and nearly tearing up over its fiery pain that she wasn't ready for. She rarely made a mistake that resulted in wounds- careful as she was to handle bark, barbs, and sharp exteriors of succulents. Quick as ever, a rush spurred Kenna back to her workroom for some hot water and a blade to leverage it out, but the deep green barb proved troublesome and she was growing feverish at an alarming rate. Something was wrong about this little pin prick, but Kenna hadn’t realized at the time how dire it was.

Not until Geralt swooped into the room without announcement- finding her fruitlessly trying to fuss at the injured hand. Geralt immediately knew what to do. Directing a frantic Dandelion at his heels, he called around the room with curt orders of what he needed in order to help her. 

The first task involved telling her how he identified the indeed poisonous barb, and how to extract it properly. Kenna’s gut twisted at the embarrassment she found herself into, but she hardly had time to berate herself with what the present was forcing her to address.

Puzzling– Geralt pulled a potion from his belt and started swishing some around his mouth before swallowing. Not unlike a palace taste tester would do his duty. Before Kenna could even ask what he was planning on doing to help, Geralt motioned for Dandelion to give him the empty cup on the table so it would be in close reach for him. Supplies set, Geralt braced Kenna with a calm assurance coupled with a tender grip on her wrist. 

A 1-2-3 warning later, the Witcher skillfully worked the blunt edge of a sterilised paring knife against the quill to coax the needle out swiftly— 

Then latched his lips to her hand.

… And started sucking.

Kenna’s frustrated tears stopped altogether. Watching in half horror- half awe at Geralt drawing out whatever greenish-black poison was afflicting her with gentle suction and subsequently spitting its remains out into the stein. 

Golden Oriole: the elixir he’d prepped with, was to thank for its anti-venom qualities. He’d later devine that its alchemical makeup served to combat what had begun to process in her bloodstream when applied soon after injection. 

But again, this saving grace solution was granted to her by Geralt’s very lips and tongue- never mind the fire-lit glance he chanced up to her eyes for the briefest moment while he effectively lapped at her palm. That look nearly stopped her heart altogether.

In the end, a simple herb paste was all that was recommended to apply after that incident once Geralt deemed her in the clear; along with orders of plenty of fluids to flush her system out. His hovering watch over her  that evening while everyone sat entertained by Dandelion’s program of the night didn't go unnoticed, either.

The memory alone burned in her, even now- unorthodox didn’t begin to cover that day.

Kenna could look back on the incident now with a safe sense of recovery and relief, though she couldn’t stave off the odd sense of wonder and… dare she say attraction to how Geralt had worked on her hand so gently. Surely that wasn’t part of his Witcher training, right?

“Herbs worked wonders, just like you said. And uh–” Kenna pocketed her hands again with a little lilt to her step and a gentle nudge to his arm in a purposefully friendly gesture,  “-you certainly gave it the best chance at healing.”

Geralt’s sights fell away from her at the emphasis on his tactics. Shyly, Kenna dared to think? The man’s head cocked aside nonchalantly and carried on like it was nothing. Perhaps for him, it was all part of the job.

“Poison’s nasty stuff. ‘Course I hope now, someone’s learned her lesson about wearing some damn gloves next time? You should every time, really.”

“I know, it wasn’t my finest decision,” Kenna sighed, recalling his previous lecture as well. “I blame it on my lack of caffeination and wherewithal to act sensibly that early in the morning.”

“Hm. Not an early morning person... Figured you’d be sunshine and roses the second you wake up. Always are, when I see you.”

Kenna sneered playfully back, 

“I’ll spare you that experience then, Master Witcher. Fortunately, no one back in the troupe knows my secret. I’ve got to have some black coffee and two sugars before I can open my mouth and have something remotely kind come out. S’why I’m up before everyone else for breakfast.”

Kenna in her gentleness really wasn’t that temperamental. Geralt knew that, so a muted smile lifting his weathered cheeks. But he still leaned into the tease with devilish intent,

“Note to self: hide all cacao beans from Dandelion’s stash… Then watch and wait for draconic activity to take over the area.”

Kenna gasped with indignation, “You wouldn’t dare. That’s mean.”

“Never said I was nice, Kenna.” Geralt looked back at her with a slight warning. 

“You are nice,” Kenna replied lightly. “Doesn’t matter how much you try and show off otherwise- mean guys don’t have half the heart or moral backbone you do.”

The Witcher slowed a bit when she said this. 

But before Kenna could check back and wonder why he stopped matching her gait, Geralt flashed a look behind them and pulled Kenna by the waist across him towards the inside shoulder of the road–

A cart teetering about recklessly with some hollering sailors blew past the two, trotting haphazardly across the bend of the road. 

Managing her breath from the sudden interruption, Kenna tipped back up to Geralt’s firm focus on the passing cart. The steely-eyed man muttered something of an annoyed curse under his breath. She had to smirk, because this only proved her point. His hand hadn’t left her upper back as he embraced her close- no longer a sudden reflex. 

Kenna dropped her facetious tone. She meant every word of this:

“Mean guys wouldn’t have done that, either.”

Geralt managed to level off his irritation under Kenna’s expectant hazel gaze. He simply smoothed up her back to squeeze her shoulder assuringly, and pocketed his other hand in his long brigandine’s outer vest. 

A simple hum was all he gave in response.

Kenna took advantage of the arrangement and chuckled easily. Reaching back to settle her arm more comfortably along his waistcoat -just higher than a belt would be- Kenna practically snuggled into Geralt’s side, and walked them both onward.

“C'mon, you think I’m alright sometimes…” Kenna pulled the grump along out of his flash of protective anger. Geralt fell into step with her as she led- and left his hand where it was. “-even if I forget my gloves and make you worry.”

“You don’t make me worry.” Geralt shook his head and faced ahead on their walk. “You’re probably the only one here who’s capable of wrangling the cats of Dandelion’s company."

Kenna beamed for the moment…

But in true fashion, the snide remarks soon followed:

"What I pity is your sense of patience," Geralt breezed. "It’s going to give you angina and a premature death if you stay with the bard much longer- knowing the stunts he pulls when he gets too antsy on the road.” 

The visual of the rapscallions mucking about the kitchen like they so often did in the mornings made Kenna laugh bright and easy again. The fact each of them were so lovable in their own way- messy and uncoordinated habits and all- endeared them to her in their predictability, and it was not a hardship. After all, she knew what she was getting into.

“And what would you suggest Dandie does in my stead, huh?” Kenna asked, “Say I left tomorrow: you really think he could keep the books in order, pay his levy and touring taxes to the right officers, get any actual vegetables in his diet, and feed his creative genius for this cabaret plan all on his own? Let alone fund it?”

Geralt’s fingers scratched along Kenna’s shoulder seam lightly.

“Someone needs to fill that job, alright. Just–” Geralt’s eyes fell along her facial features with a subtle regard, “Take the benefactor's hunt alone; that's a big ask. I’d say that for theatre types and bards, alike. Finding patrons to support their efforts and talking up their shows is a full time gig.”

“-That pays as a full time gig,” Kenna assured. “One I didn’t mind taking on from the start. I think it turned out for the best. There were plenty of opportunities for both of us.”

“So you’ve said.”

As a gull flew to its nest along the pier’s awnings above them, Kenna ran through the gameplan in case Geralt hadn’t received the sales pitch from Dandelion already.

“I know it started as a means to run through my old haunts, coming along with Dandelion- with some added company along the way. But when I have the time between destinations, he gets my services as a manager who can make sense of his artist-addled brain cells so he can do what he’s best at.”

Geralt hummed again. “Hm, makes sense. Still sounds like you’re putting most of the work in while he flits around.”

“He can flit around all he wants,”  Kenna waved her bandaged hand a bit for emphasis, “Dandie works the crowd! Men like him aren't that hard to handle. He’s not getting any younger, you know, so his ‘flitting’ days are numbered.” Kenna made a small poke at his expense; “I know you know he thinks he’s not a day over twenty. He acts like quite the party animal- but he’s out like a light after the 8 bell on a regular weeknight.”

Geralt burst out a rough laugh at this. A strong, stroking thumb teased by Kenna’s neck with a little squeeze to her shoulder. 

“Hell, you’re way too nice for your own good, sweet thing.” 

“What? He can entertain himself and ‘schmooze’ the feathered-hat clubs he’s so familiar with… meanwhile, he leaves me to my work that ends up helping us both in the end. Insider's information and some pocket money. Creative package deal, but it works fine for us!”

Geralt hummed, considering her words. Kenna sweetened the deal, 

“He’s really got big plans for this place in Novigrad," Kenna introduced Dandelion's efforts, "Plans to make it a haven for folks of all kinds and trades. Starting off with me, I guess; and we can see where it grows when he gets settled in. And, like you said yourself, I get to see some familiar faces every now and again while I’m on this stretch of the journey there.”

“Hm,” Geralt conceded. “And when you get to Novigrad- what are your plans then? Pretty far aways from White Orchard.”

Kenna followed the lamplights along the river again, "I was never going to stay in White Orchard. I'd been toying with the idea for a northlands circuit anyways for some seasonal resources. I don't really need a home base to care for,"

Kenna looked up to Geralt again, finding him already looking at her. Smile teasing one side of her lips up at his attention, she simply summed up her answer.

"I'm happy enough to see where the wind takes me."

A gust crossed their path just then– brushing some pieces of hair into both eyes and mouth in a funny bluster. 

With a little huff, Geralt chuckled and pulled her hair aside with his nearby hand; its leather crackled and softly fussed against her cheek.

"As long as you don't start eating the wind, that is."

Kenna beamed at the ease Geralt was settled into now. To have a break and let down after such a busy few contracts… Kenna was secretly hoping more and more chances like this would be in their future- arm slack across her shoulders or not. 

“You’ve gotta be craving a bit of quiet yourself, aren’t you?” she asked, flipping the rest of her errant curls back from the wind. “That last trip sounded exhausting.”

Geralt shook his head, “Even if I wanted it, won’t happen anytime soon. On the hunt.”

“Big job?”

A wisp of a pause kept Geralt from likely saying too much.

“...Big undertaking. Bit more personal than others.”

“I see,” Kenna let him keep his secrets, for now. “I’ll leave you to your hero-ing then.”

“I’m no hero.”

“Ehh, you kind of are!”

"I'm not the hero people want.” Geralt softened the firm delivery his voice usually carried, “ I just do the work no one else will."

Kenna held back a chortle.

“What’s that look for.”

"Pretty heroic thing to say, Geralt."

"I mean I'm not--"

 Kenna sighed with familiar patience, "Not what?"

Geralt slowed his pace again, but slipped his hand down Kenna’s back in the process. His eyes trailed along her shoulder down to where he lingered at her side. 

"I'm not what you think I am."

As usual, Kenna tired of Geralt’s self-deprecating tendencies when it came to his talents. 

Talents, she’d decided, because while witchers may have been engineered as hunters and killers by way of disposition and capabilities, she believed the extent of a successful one was determined by choosing to grow that skillset. Credit his School of the Wolf, Geralt claimed as far as Witcher training goes… but in Kenna’s eyes, this did not guarantee that one would have the ideal blend of both instinct and a good moral backbone– Geralt held both of these traits. 

Geralt might see himself as just a Witcher trying to make his way, but Kenna –somehow– thought better of him. There’s power in choice; his just as much as her own. 

"I know what you are, even though I know you won't believe me."

Geralt gave  pause, hearing her out. 

Kenna turned to sidle up to him, towards the riverfront for a change of view, 

"And I also know the reason why you won’t…” she eased his arm back over her shoulder, "-is because you've been treated like ‘less than’ for the longest time. Sure, you've learned to not hold onto the hate, like you say… but you've let another core belief in that you do not deserve:”

Her hip swayed into his, getting his attention, 

“I reckon not letting the bad things get to you has conditioned the opposite- meaning, you'll not accept the good things much, either... But you don't deserve that, Geralt. You deserve to hear the truth, and that truth is that you are nice. You are good, and not by any sort of blessing or curse. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t do it. And I can believe there’s a lot you care about, and more than just money.”

Geralt considered this, and perked again when she continued,

“So whatever hunt you’re on? You’ll sort it out. Maybe you don’t wanna be called a hero for it, but I can try my best to make you feel appreciated, at least. And I'll do whatever it takes to make you believe better for yourself. "

He didn’t look her back in the eye as she did, but he couldn’t hide the smirk  that appeared when he chipped his chin up over the river.

"Sounds like rotten work. Sure you have plenty better things to do." 

"Not your call to make, I'm afraid,” Kenna looked out to the river, too. "Call me invested, Master Witcher. You don't get a say in this one." 

Geralt squeezed her in again, all while not letting her get the chance to see his face.

What she’d trade and harvest and grind away at the mill to be able to make the rough n' ready Witcher smile for once. 

"If you say so."

The smile carried in Geralt’s low voice, so she didn’t need to see.

The owls called out their own morningsong, and Kenna settled back under Geralt’s arm. 

“Nice night.”

“Mhm.”

Geralt

In the moment, she probably thought a pep talk was all he needed.

But Geralt? If Kenna only knew the pang of humanity that resounded in his chest hearing the words leave her mouth: ‘You deserve more.’

All he could remember for years before now was each fleeting interaction he had, which were many. Intimidation, fear and disgust fluttered over the countenance of just about everyone who greeted him. Washes of panic and eerie quiet silenced them every time. 

But her? None of these even crossed her mind, it seemed. Never once did fear fill her eyes when she looked at him. Kenna only ever had a spot saved for him by the fire, food on the table, and someone with a sweet voice to catch-up with after days or weeks spent alone in the Wilds. No, nothing but the finest sort of respect, of kindness, congeniality. Something akin to-

"You coming, Master Witcher?"

A nudge up for Roach to get a move on, Geralt pulled himself from his distraction, too.

"Think that's up to Roach, now."

A lovely flutter of chuckles spring from Kenna's chest, the sound turning into a coo over to Roach. With a bribe of an apple from Kenna’s waist pocket, the brown mare jumped into step from the patch of grass and followed Kenna's lead further into the wooded grove, the Witcher left to trail after them both.

Her call -a sweet, genteel 'come here, pretty girl'- is one he's biting his own tongue from letting loose.

Kenna chances looks at Geralt over her shoulder that he follows, with a lilting smile- her gratitude for his company so she didn't have to walk the rest of the trail alone back to Roggeven Proper. Not for protection or making sure she’s staying away from the poisonous bits- just 'pleasurable company', so she says. Geralt likens her to the spirit of a child scouring the shore for seashells, with her keen eyes fixed on what herbs she can salvage from the woods around them and brew into elixirs; all to his benefit. 

The hunt for Ciri keeps on, with creatures of every foul sort stopping him along the Path with every pull of his attention.. 

And so, her call- infused with care in every word- pulled the horse and Witcher both down the rough, trodden path. And if the sky and sea be damned, Geralt knew very well what to call this;

...if he wasn't careful, he'd be falling in love with her by month's end.

Behind the Bar

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Kenna (Herbalist OC)

Words: 4,249

Ratings: Teen/Up Audience

Warnings: none

A/N:    An interlude for two unlikely, fast friends over a bar chat… about perceptions, monsters, and the magic a simple act of kindness can have in their grey world. This is a one-shot set a little time after the start of my upcoming fic, A Stroke of Luck; enjoy~

Summary:   A calm, predictable routine had settled between the Witcher and Dandelion’s new, darling addition to his masterplan; a comfortable, easy end to the day– with Kenna as his company. The two were no longer acquaintances after shared meals, close calls on the road, exchanging goods, and crossing paths at several turns that one could only perceive as fated meetings. After a day of earning her own keep at the local spot where Dandelion has posted up in the city, Kenna steps in to defend Geralt for what he’s due– something he’s clearly never experienced in such a charming way. 

Normally, knights are the noble ones in the city; not herbalists with a mind for money and deduction skills. 

Read on AO3

A red tethered topknot collected most of Kenna’s sweat from the stockpot. On hot days like this, brewing outside is not only a necessity, but a mercy. 

Her celandine seeds currently roasting over the flame are potent in a moderate amount, but with the steamy heat of summer driving everyone in Velen to the nearest river, Kenna knew trying to cook off copious amounts of pollen in a small kitchen would cause headaches galore– a migraine just waiting to happen. Still, catching a breath herself was a sacrifice she was willing to make for the sake of this batch.

"Twenty minutes," Kenna rasped to herself- wistfully catching sight of the still wind chime at the far corner of the patio. No breeze today. "Maybe thirty. Then a much needed cool down..."

Kenna brushed off the polleny barbs on a dirt rag, and took a swig from her canteen. She counted the horses filling up the stable overhang across the way, brows flicking up at the sight of a familiar dun.

"Roach~"

The mare turned head and gave a quick, barreling whinny. Kenna ducked under the tarped shelter and through the walkway to scratch the Witcher's much-loved steed across the blaze of her snout. She found the sweet spot under the horse's bangs easily, relishing in the fluttery burrs coming from deep in her barded chest.

"Like that, don't you..." Kenna hummed down to Roach’s head nuzzling straight against her stomach. "Glad to see you too. Wonder what your friend's gotten up to, hm baby? Is he inside?"

Roach couldn't give an answer, but Kenna engaged the conversation anyway.

"Yeah, I should go say hi. Maybe bring a little treat to a special someone after, huh?" Kenna cooed, and earned another agreeable burr. Seemed the ashen-colored mare next to Roach shared the sentiment. With a final scratch, Kenna doubled back inside the back door, shedding the potholders strung to her wrists and making her way to the bar.

Slipping past a few of the entertaining girls for the night with a welcoming smile, Kenna joined Dandelion’s side by the peddler’s table as he looked on. Activity near the front door had his attention with strong degree of disapproval.

"Uh-oh. That's a look.” Kenna murmured over his shoulder, not making it look obvious that she was looking, too. “What's going on?"

"Mmmm. I think someone’s trying to stiff Geralt." Dandelion sniffed haughtily. "That lout’s been floundering ever since he got the full story of the contract he lent out. Job's done- he better pay him." Dandelion spoke with conviction, but with an aire of a joke. "Or else I might just sing ‘The Song’ as loud as I can manage."

"Geralt said he doesn't like it."

"I don't care if he doesn't like it- it's the principle!" Dandelion soured. "Ts'why I put the line right in there!" He seemed certainly proud of his creative stroke, but moseyed on over to his band’s half circle to try and break from his foul mood and give his impatience time to cool off.

Looking back, Kenna sorted herself around the counter, treading close to the end where Geralt wore a flat scowl of his own. His hair partly wisped about by a likely rushed scuffle, it stuck behind his ear a little haphazardly on one side, and only proved the dangerous risks and efforts of his line of work. 

Catching herself from staring too much, she did fall in line and familiarize herself with the current state of coin and orders coming in. It wasn’t her night to tend the dining pots, but she was always agreeable to help Marge out when things picked up around this hour. Some slips were for standing tabs, meals to-go, and for the brews currently being concocted outside on her burner as quick medicines. On the stake beside the coinbox sat the paid out tabs, half-crumpled; she saw a regular’s- Corrull, from up the high street- had just paid out. To her surprise, he was the one Geralt was talking to by the door. 

Kenna picked out his higher pitched voice rushing out a pleading laugh to break the tension. Back still turned to her, Geralt crossed his arms and leaned onto one heavy-set foot.

"Please, I've had bit’of business since Hump day, Witcher; you know how these things go! I gotta keep up. There's been costs, and doctors calls- my youngest girl's been tied in knots over this whole housing mess.. been mislaid for almost a week now from the stress."

"This isn't what we agreed to."

"Have a heart, man- damn godlings are a mess- not tryna snuff you, or nothing, but twenty coin really gonna put you out that much? It's a good thing ya done- you have my thanks, honest-"

"Grateful conscience or not. Still won’t buy me dinner." Geralt managed levely.

Kenna's brow furrowed and her chin upticked- Dande was right.

Corrull went on about his recent laundry list of expenses before Kenna's feet moved on their own and came from the bar to their space with a confident air in her shoulders, messing with her hand towel just casually enough to show authority as part of Marge’s staff.

"Everything ok here, gentlemen?" Kenna eyed them both, more focus landing on Geralt’s noncompliant company.

"Kenna, love!" Corrull visibly waffled, "Just settling up with a posting, no trouble here."

Geralt wasn't impressed, glaring daggers into the man's temple and rolling off to the side, not quite meeting her eye back.

Kenna kept aloof and light. "That so?"

Geralt groused, "Wouldn't say that." 

Geralt's tone kept sound but the edge on the last beat ruffled Corrull ever so much, even in a bystander's presence. Kenna looked back to Corrull for a clearer answer than his nervous chuff of laughter.

"Just hard to uh-- settle up when your pot's empty, ya know miss? Just paid off my tab, you can check! I'm good for it, Witcher!" He claimed, posture jumpy. Geralt soured even more.

Kenna's brow lifted, her proof coming to mind.

"True enough, he sure did," Kenna lilted, stepping back to the bar. With a quick blind grab, she flipped up the spoked slip of paper. "Amount of- oh look here.. twenty pieces. Got the Friday special, I see. Someone was feeling indulgent."

Geralt eyed her back more calm than before, with a curious sort of furrow to his brow. Beside him, he glanced in his peripheral as the man's throat bobbed. Guilty as sin.

"Tell you boys what," Kenna slipped comfortably onto the low tabletop to address them, slipping the sheet to Corrull, "How's about you take this, my friend... And we'll settle that up when you're not in such a tight spot. Got a week's due date, after all- says so on the door."

She referenced the casual plaque above his very head with a pointed nod, and while both looked up dumbly to it, she rustled up the increments of five gold pieces to the total of twenty.

"And this-- can be used to pay the Witcher what he's owed." 

Stance calm and collected, Kenna kept her tone equally sweet, but with a careful look that meant this was more than a suggestion aimed straight at the portly man.

Geralt unfurled his arms to keep casual rest on the hilt of his shortsword, looking far less threatening, but solemn to a fault.

Swallowing against a flare of pride, the man nodded all too quickly,

"Mmm-- agreeable. Fair enough. Call it done, Master Witcher?"

With the same severe look that wasn't to be messed with earlier, Geralt shrugged off with a dismissive wave.

"Fine by me."

"Good deal!" Kenna brightened with a knowing smile. "Then you'll take this..." 

Corrull came to claim the tab and drop off the remaining bag of coins beside the stack on the counter, before she offered, 

"And-- a quick word I hear, from a wise man?"

"Yesm, Ma'am?"

Her voice dropped a fraction in volume.

"Pay your debts, in the order in which they're received. Just good business."

Message delivered; Corrull’s subdued nod was prompt indication. Satisfied by the small sweaty blink away of nerves he showed, Kenna patted the coin bag and carried on wiping out a still drying cup within reach- as casual an act as always.

"Lovely," she perked up again, "do enjoy your night, barber. We'll see you back to settle that one up- whenever's convenient for you."

"Course, ma'am.... Witcher, my regards."

"Hm." Geralt nodded briefly. 

And Corrull slipped out of the Rusted Arrow's well worn door with a shake of the head and a jerky rake of his hair, making off not unlike a dog with his tail between his legs.

Slipping off the counter's edge to a less precarious posture, Kenna huffed at the obvious poor planning and shitty business sense of the patron. As thankful as she was for regulars, that display wouldn't endear the Barbersons to her for a while. 

Back to Geralt, the Witcher pocketed the bag before shedding his swords off under the counter edge and took a seat.

Kenna rallied a cleansing breath, catching Geralt's eye and giving a sympathetic little smile. All previous ‘peddler’s appeal’ voice gone, she dropped to her more natural, unfussy tone.

"Hey there, stranger."

"Hey," Geralt smirked back lifelessly. "Thanks for that."

Clearly he wasn't all too pleased.

"...Does that happen often?"

Geralt dismissed with a curt shake, "Few and far between."

Kenna hummed, content enough for the rarity of such stinginess of people. Witchers took on the strangest and deadliest of occupations, in her eyes... Managing payment for those services seemed a given, especially the more desperate the man was to get a witcher's help.

Refreshing her tucked hair back, Kenna shook off her abrupt wave of justice. Geralt spoke up again, so she recentered to listen- though wilted at the same time, noticing his head cocked down a bit staring off at the bar too absently.

"Iron's gone up in the last month. Everything's more costly. Arrowheads, sinker lines, horseshoes even..." He huffed dully. "This kind of job will barely cover my regular list–thanks-" He acknowledged her pour of some ale with a sip. After a thin lipped swallow, Geralt eyed Kenna with a resolute firmness of his brow. "I don't mean to sound cold over a bit of short change. But twenty coin's twenty coin. The rest is pretty much spoken for."

Kenna scoffed lightly with an ease of her brow.

"You don't owe me a single explanation- not to anyone, Geralt. You earn what you earn- and you should get every bit of it. It's only right."

"Still," he drawled, giving a small nod. "All I mean is every bit counts, wasn't meant to be greedy. Witchers get enough shit as it is."

"You said that last time," Kenna frowned thinking back to his visit at the start of the month. 

"Kinda nice tho... Having someone stick up for a Witcher for once. That's a rare sight."

Geralt was looking off through the window’s condensation, so he missed Kenna’s wry little smile. A thank you, in his own way.

"So I literally scored you dinner with my little stunt, huh?" She hinted.

"Sure did." He looked back, visibly more relaxed.

Kenna couldn't stifle the pride blooming in her chest again. They say good deeds don't go unpunished, but she couldn't see a downside when the timing was so perfect.

"Well don't worry- it's not a favor you gotta return when it's over your hard earned money." She tapped the counter, working her jaw casually, eyeing him up amicably. "Dinner’s up to you now; what'll it be? Same special as Jackass out there, orrrr we have a good bit of chicken, greens, Redwood rarebit- and if I remember right, bread from this morning? I think it's still good."

"You pick. Sounds good."

Hyperverbal as always. 

This Witcher... days like his, stretching on to the night, where a meal is hit or miss... Been a long day, Kenna imagined, so she decided to cut him slack.

"Alright, Mr. Chatty," Kenna dropped the hostess' airs, and settled into her routine. "One bread or two?"

"Mm," he hummed. "How much'll that get me?"

Kenna paused. He's dead serious.

"Two," she decided, with a smile.

"Might as well."

Navigating the stovetop was fast paced with three girls working tonight, so Kenna was able to slide in and out with minimal invasion. Sweet girls- this was their first job for two of them; trying so hard to please and make a few extra tips. Kenna was simply glad for the exclusive backdoor access to the outside fireplace, and left the interior fires for the staff to have as much space to manage mealtimes as possible. Paired with the visiting bard, she wasn’t necessarily in this job for the money- more for the company, “in” with the local herbalists, and here to manage Dandie’s books while he wooed the populace. Didn’t hurt to make a few friends along the way- or treat them to a kinder night of conversation than what they were typically dealt…

"You're quick."

Geralt was studying her even before she dropped off a couple plates to his spot. The sole attention might have scared any of the other girls, Kenna thought. But under Geralt’s eye- that almost rang a compliment.

"I’m not exactly a field track star, Geralt. I hate running." She teased with an eye roll. Sidestepping around the bustle wasn't a task to be taken slowly.

"Quick at reading people," Geralt stated as his correction, "Reading a room. Diffusing situations."

"Working with all the hotheads in here?” Kenna mused, “You pick it up after a while if you don't wanna go mad. And I’ve worked in quite a few spots like this one."

"You know what I mean. C'mon."

Kenna shook her head- not following.

Geralt worked through a bite before asking, "How do you manage it?"

"... Stopping barfights, or not losing my patience?"

"Understanding people." he asked with a careful eye.

Well, this is chattier.

"Well,” Kenna started, “I like people- shocker."

Geralt gave a conceding look and kept eating.

"All kinds. And that's... -not a popular opinion. People find anything to fight about nowadays. Dwarves, elves- witchers; don't have to explain that one."

Geralt's wariness softened.

"I guess the more I've moved, the more I’ve listened.. People are complex, no matter where they come from. We have…” she paused to collect stray thoughts together and blew some air through thought, “These ideas of what we should be, what we wanna be, and what we are. And if I look hard enough- I start to 'get' it, myself. I can hear it in their stories. There’s things people say- and things they don't say. Both are telling."

"And I dunno." Kenna stepped back towards the back counter, arms lax but bracing herself upwards. "Everyone's got a story. Maybe if we all listened a bit, we'd understand each other better. Not get so wrapped up in this political mess, greed, vendettas and actually put that energy towards something better. Better for all of us.." 

She waved humorlessly to him; the gesture was received with a smirk.

"I may not be a huge part of the solution in my tiny little corner of the world.... But I just don't wanna be part of the problem. It pays to listen in."

Geralt blinked, a thought passing through, fleeting. 

"Life's too short, y'know?" Kenna spun to the positive. "Might as well make the ride easy for folks while I'm here. Do some good. It's in rare form, like you saw tonight. That's why I try my hardest to 'herd the cats'; it works to calm me down at least." She sullied as the barber’s interaction seeped back in. 

The cat-eyes focused, a question behind them and his brow lifted.

"You think it's naive-- I can see it on your face."

"Difference between optimism and being naive.” Geralt answered, “You're not naive."

"Well, thanks." She wiped a cup, not convinced at his still-inquisitive gaze.

"... I think you're what the world needs."

Kenna blanked out, staring back. He offered a little, thin lipped smile- barely there. Then took another drink.

"... Wow." Kenna managed out of her confusion. "Here I thought I was talking your ear off."

"No,” he wiped a bit of juice between his thumb and forefinger. “You just made me think."

"About what?"

"Couple things," he rose and joined her behind the bar, sitting with his back to the room-- across from her, her equal.

Squared up, she sipped from her canteen in new company.

"What are you thinking about?"

"These spectres. Ghouls. Settling into houses around this area; they’re often tortured. Beings that  were never properly laid to rest when they met their end. It makes sense to know why they breed suffering and wrath on everything, because they never got the chance to feel it themselves. Just as they're misunderstood in life- they also are in death. They're trapped in the mortal plane, and can do real harm in the moments between real and unreal."

Kenna was surprised at the tangent. Still, he was sharing. This had to be fairly rare too. 

"Huh."

"The job–one I just did,” he rolled back his shoulders, “The spirit was that of a child who was feeding on the collective dreams of the owners of the wellerman’s house from nearly a decade ago. His parents. Kid died young, but was hardly mourned because he was some sickly thing- seen as a burden on the family. The family moved on to bear more children, seemingly much happier. But so much hatred and scorn drove the child's spirit to madness in the last days of life- and so, he haunted them in death, until they went mad and passed with equal unrest. Arguably before their time."

"Woah."

"Coursem now,” Geralt nodded on, “You'd think justice was done- the nightwraith would be content with handfuls of residents coming in and out of that home. But he wasn't sated. Bitterness rots. Destroys you. Lingers– it's a slow thing, that only hurts:"

"-yourself." Kenna reasoned along with him, "And that even happens to undead creatures like that?"

"It's how they thrive. You don't know any different way to survive when you're in a plane of your own."

It sounded lonely, in the worst sense.

Geralt mused with the storytelling genius of all those cautionary tales she’d been reared on, 

"He fed on what he believed was real-- but it wasn't. Wraiths can feel the living- but not hear and really see. So with new residents, he transferred leaching from one source to another, thinking his family was still alive after years of roaming alone. Full of misplaced hatred and nowhere to put his grief."

"So he was going to kill the barbersons, too?" Kenna worried a bit.

"Bit by bit from madness- sure."

"So... What did you do?"

"Laid him to rest. With his family, where he belonged all along." Geralt’s eyes flickered to the nearer of the two swords- the silver blade.

"That’s-- wow." And the more she thought... "...And you get only three hundred coins for all that?!"

Geralt snickered lightly, 

"Three hundred was generous. I've handled worse for less. This was a selfish child whittled away by an illness that took him from his family. Imagine a woman scorned by a lover, demanding eternal restitution."

"Oooo, that's messy." Kenna winced.

"I'd take on a hungry grottore anyday."

Kenna gawked flatly. Those things are terrifying. 

But Geralt reached back for his stein,

"I'm joking. Breathe, sweet thing."

Sweet thing? That was new and thrilling in its own right.

Kenna watched him from her perch, ever amazed at the ease which Geralt so willingly deals with such extremes of monsters.

“I think that’s a bit of a trend with you, isn't it?” Kenna recovered her backbone, “Taking on the worst of jobs that accost the body mind and spirit, and get paid nickels for it?”

“Long as I can get  a hot meal and a night’s rest out of it.”

“Not without the creepiest nightmares, I’d imagine…” Kenna shuddered off.

Geralt shrugged again, “One can wish.”

Kenna huffed, but wrenched at her neck in a shudder of nervous energy,

"Well geez Geralt, that's some heavy stuff. What on earth did I say that made you think about all that?"

Geralt joined her side now: looking out at the bar, leaning back, hip to hip.

"What I meant was... There's talent in reading people, all kinds. You can put yourself in someone else's shoes, and know how to relate. Makes people at ease. Anyone who meets you-- they’re better for it." He looks at her. "I meant what I said; the world needs more people like you. For what it’s worth, the more there is of you-- the less there are of monsters like that."

Kenna hadn’t considered that connection- specters did start out as souls with flesh and blood at one point. The compliment surely meant more when Geralt spelled it out so graciously.

 There was no doubt in her mind now- hearing how nobly Dandie constantly bragged on this Witcher. As if her own little talks here and there didn’t confirm it, Geralt was always surprising her, tale after tale. Humanizing him all the more to her.

With a smarmy brow lifted, Geralt passed the mug to his lips again,

"You also asked me if I get stiffed often for payment. Had to think about that too. Would you believe me if I told you there’s only one person who's ever asked me about that before?"

In a whole lifetime, only one friend? "Really?"

As soon as she’d asked, Dandelion bellowed out some rousing opening liner to a shanty. He was really putting in the effort now- to announce the arrival of some fisherman’s party that he recognized coming in the door and set to immediately boost their spirits after a long day. Geralt pointed the bard out with a silent finger, perfect timing. 

Of course–Dandelion had been concerned, the moment she walked in the room. Kenna softened to know his eye out for Geralt wasn’t coincidence.

"Imagine my surprise... To learn you two found each other." Geralt muttered.

"Looks like we share a knack for picking up stray witchers."

Geralt huffed a small bit through his nose; a smile teasing the edges of his eyes. They wrinkled  in little, soft lines.

"He's insufferable and rarely shuts up when I need him to... But he's a good friend. Best I've had in a long time."

Kenna smiled again, happy for the turn of fate. The odds of her acquaintanceship between a bard and a monster hunter on separate instances to merge so perfectly could only be a happy accident.

Kenna held out a small hand as he might to one of his formal business prospects, more to tease than offer a real truce

"Well, if you'd like- make it two, Geralt. You'll have my ear when you need it; and I'll come set your bullies straight at the pub anytime you want. Deal?" 

But Geralt clearly had other intentions on the receiving end. His gaze flickered for a moment, surprised to catch her open hand. Yet the act brought a wider grin to his face, which was a welcome sight. 

Geralt took her hand of course, but lifted it for a quick, polite kiss instead of a shake to seal the invitation.

"Deal.” he agreed. 

Stifling that flip in her heart very quick, Kenna turned interested,

"So that's a yes on the bully-fighting? Better polish off my fisticuffs."

"If I'm ever going to let you fight, you're using a blade. Not glorified punches." Geralt countered.

"Hope you plan on teaching me,” she coughed out a laugh. “I've never used one."

Geralt sighed with a flutter of an eye roll, "You and Dandelion both. What am I gonna do with you..."

Kenna couldn’t resist;

"Swordplay, it sounds like~"

Geralt’s sharp eyes flared, sights fixed on her from a half submerged sip from his stein. Doubt, dipped with interest- clearly wondering if he heard her right. 

Kenna smirked at being able to catch him off guard. Dandelion was right about him appreciating a bit of quick wit. 

"I'll start restocking your cache and be out back if you need me." 

Kenna passed across him to grab his side pouch perched on the ground where he kept his elixir reserves. As always, that was her usual forte beyond serving up a meal he’d enjoy. Before crossing him again, she remembered to snag a couple apples from the top rack dangling from the bartop.

"Gotta check in on the ladies, too. M’sure Dandie will wanna hear your ghost story.”

“Oh gods forbid.” Geralt scowled playfully. “I’m not giving him any more ideas for his songs.”

“Oh he’s got plenty already. See ya.” Kenna turned and slipped out from the bar. 

– And what to her luck, her batch of celandine was just the right, toasty color on the back stove. 

“Perfect timing, Roach,” Kenna called to the mare across the way, “Come get a treat, sweet girl~”

Roach perked up and trotted her way over, head shoved under the awning and ready for the herbalist’s touch. She may think the lady’s pot always smelled weird in that tent of hers, but Geralt spoke nicely about his new little friend, Kenna. Wherever they went, Roach always had the suspicion the Path would lead right back to this one…

FIN