He’s spent most of this time since he and Ishtalí had made their move, rearranging the furniture in his room, and placing his toys in just the right spots.

A long yaaaaawn.

Grins at “more Witchers”.

Taking bites out of a cooked leg of meat.

He misses Boone!

—; ᴡᴀʀʀɪᴏʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ

Cat witchers frighten him.

|☀️| - Don’t let my IC reactions stop y’all from interacting with Ishta’s brother (⌜ 🌙 ⠆ s ᴀ ᴍ ᴇ ɪ ʟ ⌟). He’s written by a longtime partner of mine who is amazing and a wonderful writer. I encourage people trying to get to know Sami. Ishta is simply very overprotective, to a fault.

G u l p.

He’s drooling.

He takes half a step back, eyeing the man warily.

“I’m not scared!” he argued. He was lying. “Wh—. . . Who are you, anyway?”

He is graciously nodding as he plucks a roll from the plate and takes a big bite. “Mmm!”

He nodded. “I know many Witchers. I’ve met enough to know I don’t really like Witchers of the Cat school.”

“Tempest,” he recalled, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked basically everywhere but up at the man. “She threatened to kill me.”

He shrugged. “That I don’t know. But she didn’t make a very good first impression.”

—;

—;

“Arse Skellige?”

Now that tune is stuck in his head. Blast.