He was working on a fire, grouping wood together and letting out a soft "Yol" to spark the flames.

"Most don't." He admits. "Even as I fight for those who can't defend themselves, both my heritage and my dragon blood calls me to battle. And I have had moments of rage even after letting go of my parents' death."

"It's hard." He looks to her softly. "I always blamed myself because of their death, even though I know I was only a boy."

Her words only garnered a sigh. Despite her hand, he moved to give her a gentle embrace. His warmth such a contrast to her cold. "Thank you, Syl." His voice a whisper, yet filled with such gratitude.

An old flame, a cherished friend, and someone I'd fight for

You back?

Sort of?

Where you going?

Need some company?

"There's a difference between me and him. A very big difference." He thrn sits beside her, the cold not much a bother since he was so acclimated to it.

He, Yennefer, and Geralt in the wilderness to get where they need to be cause Geralt refuses to use portals. "Geralt, you squalid fuck!"

He noticed immediately, and he was sure to check up on her with care as she would allow him. "Shit. I'll brew some tea...." he'd grunt and he would go to grab his cast iron set. "And get to making a soup."

Correction: He'd gladly take the portal with her if she'd allow

Hugging her still, fingers gently run through her hair. His eyes then staring off to the space before him, silence upon him so loud. "Yes I do....." he said quietly.

"By the eight...." he sighed. "I missed you."

Winter is coming, has he not been paying attention to the seasons?

Anti social bastard.....

I'm going to break you......

Can't sleep.....

"Too long." He agreed, and now he looks doen to her. "Part of me doesn't want to let go."