Geralt's throat was dry, his words a deeper grumble than even his usual, and his lips were nearly bound together with saliva caked thick and unused. His eyelids stayed closed but the obvious eye movements underneath moved them to and fro. For a moment his sharp nose tensed and then all of him relaxed into the bed and he was asleep again. The smaller of his wounds had come together under their deft attentions and were already looking pink and puckered instead of red and angry. They were nowhere near healed but the witcher's biological integrity shone though. Nothing was seeping. He was not in stasis, but healing.
It was almost another full day before he woke again and this time his eyes opened. Geralt looked around the small, dingy room, the wood in the low corners green. By the slant of the sun through the dirty windows it seemed late afternoon but it could as well been late morning. He had no idea where he was-- but when he tried to sit up every part of his body screamed with less-than-merciful voices. He didn't know if it was the pain or the movement but his head swam and then despite how his side hollered, Geralt managed to lean over the side of the bed to vomit on the floor. He hung there for a moment, wondering why he was still awake, when he vomited again. There it was. Everything swam back into blackness.
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"Smells like a fucking swamp."
Geralt's throat was dry, his words a deeper grumble than even his usual, and his lips were nearly bound together with saliva caked thick and unused. His eyelids stayed closed but the obvious eye movements underneath moved them to and fro. For a moment his sharp nose tensed and then all of him relaxed into the bed and he was asleep again. The smaller of his wounds had come together under their deft attentions and were already looking pink and puckered instead of red and angry. They were nowhere near healed but the witcher's biological integrity shone though. Nothing was seeping. He was not in stasis, but healing.
It was almost another full day before he woke again and this time his eyes opened. Geralt looked around the small, dingy room, the wood in the low corners green. By the slant of the sun through the dirty windows it seemed late afternoon but it could as well been late morning. He had no idea where he was-- but when he tried to sit up every part of his body screamed with less-than-merciful voices. He didn't know if it was the pain or the movement but his head swam and then despite how his side hollered, Geralt managed to lean over the side of the bed to vomit on the floor. He hung there for a moment, wondering why he was still awake, when he vomited again. There it was. Everything swam back into blackness.