Bounds of Bonds

Of course, as everything must. The celebrations eventually came to an end, tents were distributed to the Prospects and Chaos Servants while everyone else was graciously given a room inside the keep. Albus Dumbledore was returned to his own world as he wasn't much for prolonged parties. However there were those with higher alcohol tolerances that kept drinking throughout the night.

Sitting in the main hall of Kaer Morhen was Reima and Geralt, along with a passed out Ciri, Zoltan Kuretz, Hjalmar, Eskel and Lambert. The latters dagger is still sticking out of the table from the very dangerous drinking game they'd been playing, thankfully no one had lost any figures doing it though.

Reima looks over the sleeping few on the table and chuckles, "Seems that even Witchers have an upper limit." he says while slurring slightly, the magical worlds fire whisky definitely effective him more than any normal alcohol would have.

Geralt almost knocks his mug over as he tries to grab it to take another swig, "W-Whadd'ya expect? Not everyone is a God or has super Witcher Mutagens." he slurs as he points to Reima and himself.

Reima nods, "I guess.... Hey.. Geralt?..." he asks quietly.

Geralt "Whaat?"

Reima grins, "You wanna.. You wanna see some pictures?"

Geralt "Pictures? Why would I care about some pictures?" he scoffs and takes another drink.

Reima "Well, because they're of Ciri and myself in another world." this has Geralt perking up slightly.

Geralt scratches his beard, "Now that I think of it, yeah I'll have a look." he says as he leans forwards.

Reima retrieves a stack of photo's and places them gingerly on the table, a few getting stained slightly from the stray droplets of alcohol present. Geralt picks up the first one Reima had ever taken, the one where he and Ciri were riding a Killer Whale that'd jumped out of the water.

Geralt "Kind of monster is this thing? Surely this is fake." he slurs.

Reima "They call it an Orca or Killer Whale, it's just a regular animal that lives in the ocean. As it wasn't a monster it had no magical resistance... A quick Axii had it our temorary ride, I took the opportunity to snap a photo."

Geralt grunts, "This with one of this magic camera things you and Ciri were talking about?"

Reima nods and places down another photo, one of Ciri with her foot resting on a dragon's severed head.

Geralt's lips upturn when he looks at it, "This during that tournament you both told me about?"

Reima nods, "I've still got the head... We'll have to hang the head in Kaer Morhen somewhere." he says with a smile.

He continues to show Geralt various photo's of his and Ciri's time spent in Hogwarts and Britain as a whole. Most were taken without Ciri's permission but it's not like she could stop him showing Geralt now was it?

Eventually they reach the end of the Photo's and they dip into a comfortable silence, that is, until Geralt inquires about a certain someone. "Upstairs is that Sage Ciri was travelling with, while I trust her I cannot trust this person who has obvious ties to the Wild Hunt... We may have beaten them today but who knows what they'll do next?" he asks more seriously than anything else they'd spoken about before.

Reima "To be honest, I don't trust him either... Especially after hearing what he tried to do in the past." he mutters after taking another drink, by now already completely plastered.

Geralt "The past? Hmm... Tell me about it."

Reima "Well, it's only what Ciri herself told me but apparently Avallac'h was once close friends with Eredin and the previous King of the Wild Hunt Auberon. When she found herself in their world they tried to force her to bear a child as a way to repent for her ancestors "Betrayal", Avallac'h being the only one of the leaders to volunteer to "Do the deed"..." He says, a hint of anger becoming apparent in his voice the more he speaks about the man resting in the very same Keep as them.

Geralt isn't doing too much better as the glass in his hand shatters from the force of his grip, the alcohol splashing against the new wounds and burning them, however the Witcher doesn't give any indication that he's in pain at all. "Are you sure this is correct?" he asks angrily.

Reima nods, "I'd have killed him myself if Ciri hadn't asked me not to. To be honest it wouldn't surprise me if he'd mind controlled her to gain her trust after what he tried to do." he growls.

Geralt shakes his head and after picking the glass shards from his hand stands up from the table, "I'm gonna hit the hay, today's been... A long day." he states and stumbles away.

Reima waves at him, "Night Geralt." he says, not noticing that Lambert's knife had disappeared from the table. After Geralt leaves Reima decides to go clear his head on the balcony, beginning to ponder what he'd actually do with all the Prospects and people he'd brought from other worlds... He hadn't really thought this all through as it was likely that most countries would try and kill Priscilla, Quelaag and Quelina should they even lay eyes on them. Not only that but most of the Northern Kingdoms were under the partial control of the Eternal Fire which persecuted magic users, this would include Pyromancers and Sorcerers aswell unfortunately. Regardless, now wasn't the time to think of solutions for the problems he was presented with as his alcohol muddled mind would only create more issues.