[ He knows he knows he knows he shouldn't speak and attract attention, this isn't his first night hunt, and the frustration is thrumming so strongly through him that he wants to scream... but at the same time, his body doesn't feel quite his own and the sludge of memories in his head makes him want to keep speaking just so he remembers his voice and where he is. Whohe is.
Geralt's gasp has his eyes widen, his body tensing up, and he grasps his shoulder, his fingers digging in a little too deep. Another wave overcomes him, the world distorting, but this time he doesn't speak, just jerks his head urgently towards the back. They have to get deeper into the building, trying to put distance between themselves and this thing - and new fear is mingling with old, with the sense of being pursued, running, hiding, flashes of a forest, of a field, his tears, his hands closing around another boy's throat. ]
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Geralt's gasp has his eyes widen, his body tensing up, and he grasps his shoulder, his fingers digging in a little too deep. Another wave overcomes him, the world distorting, but this time he doesn't speak, just jerks his head urgently towards the back. They have to get deeper into the building, trying to put distance between themselves and this thing - and new fear is mingling with old, with the sense of being pursued, running, hiding, flashes of a forest, of a field, his tears, his hands closing around another boy's throat. ]