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    Summary

    "I'm sorry."

    “Don’t be.” The witcher wasn’t good at being gentle. His voice was low and rough, like how Ciri remembered her grandmother’s voice to be after an especially hard battle, her throat raw and sore from yells and commands. But for that reason, the girl found it a comfort. He might not be gentle, but he could be warm. “Nightmares are… difficult.”

    She only nodded as she sat up and pulled her blanket tightly around her shoulders. Geralt seated himself at the other end of the bedroll, a good distance away as if to give her space.

    “Would you…” It seemed an incredible feat for the man to speak. Like conversation and emotions were more complex than swordplay. “Do you want to, uhm, talk about it?”

    _____________________________
    Ciri has a nightmare and Geralt tries his best to comfort her, even if he hardly knows how.

    Language:
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