She comes walking back up the beach towards him, feet sinking into the soft sand as she goes, leaving a trail of footprints behind. The waves swallow them up shortly after, erasing even that.
The girl introduces herself to him; the syllables are foreign, but Geralt's been introduced to plenty of strange people from strange lands. If he can learn the excessive consonants of Dimitri's mother tongue, than he can learn to say these words, too.
"Geralt of Rivia," he replies, a name for a name.
They walk up the beach, towards the little temporary shops set up under brightly colored umbrellas. They're well stocked with the kinds of things that people need at beaches-- hats, sunscreen, sunglasses, a few with drinks and food, some selling kites and other things meant for playing in the ocean. He points to where there are bottles of lotion lined up according to their strength on a table.
"Get one that's at least thirty," he says. "Some of them smell, if that matters to you."
Geralt personally dislikes smelling like a piña colada whenever he put sunscreen on, but maybe Rei doesn't have those same qualms. Presumably someone has to like it, otherwise they wouldn't continue to make the lotion with that particular fragrance in it, Geralt just doesn't know who those people are.
"You're on your own with hats."
Sorry, Rei. If you want fashion advice, don't ask the guy who wears nothing but black.
no subject
The girl introduces herself to him; the syllables are foreign, but Geralt's been introduced to plenty of strange people from strange lands. If he can learn the excessive consonants of Dimitri's mother tongue, than he can learn to say these words, too.
"Geralt of Rivia," he replies, a name for a name.
They walk up the beach, towards the little temporary shops set up under brightly colored umbrellas. They're well stocked with the kinds of things that people need at beaches-- hats, sunscreen, sunglasses, a few with drinks and food, some selling kites and other things meant for playing in the ocean. He points to where there are bottles of lotion lined up according to their strength on a table.
"Get one that's at least thirty," he says. "Some of them smell, if that matters to you."
Geralt personally dislikes smelling like a piña colada whenever he put sunscreen on, but maybe Rei doesn't have those same qualms. Presumably someone has to like it, otherwise they wouldn't continue to make the lotion with that particular fragrance in it, Geralt just doesn't know who those people are.
"You're on your own with hats."
Sorry, Rei. If you want fashion advice, don't ask the guy who wears nothing but black.