[ Is this what he wants to be doing? No. Is it what he's doing regardless? Regrettably, yes. A part of him wishes Alucard had not told him of this potential solution if only because now that he knows, he cannot refuse to try. Something, eventually, has to work.
He does not know how long he can let Ciri believe she will never be remembered. He wants to fix this. For her, if nothing else, but...for himself, too. He hates how much his life—spanning centuries—has shrunk to a handful of moments that make up barely decades, years.
Naturally, Alucard being Alucard insists on this being a significantly greater ordeal than simply boiling some fucking bone in water and swallowing a cup. Geralt intended this to be, at best, an hour or two. Instead, it's taken twice as long, and he has alternated between napping and meditating for all four of those hours. Not until he hears his name does he crack open an eye.
Geralt sits up with a grunt. ] You're sure they won't return in a flood?
[ This is his main concern. What glimpse of his memories have returned, he understands they are...unpleasant. He is not interested in a "cure" that will only drive him to madness. ]
I don't think we win on technicalities on this one
Honestly? I have no idea. This was Ciri's theory in the first place.
[It made sense, of course. Alucard's blood always had healing properties. His bones now had weird magic that focused on rebuilding and adding structure. To think that finding a way to consume them might help was perfectly logical, if not a little unnerving. It spoke to how dire the situation felt from her perspective, and as unsure as Alucard was about how it all might go, it seemed a small thing to give a friend.
He sighs, leaning against the counter in the middle of the woods once Geralt's taken the mug.]
Maybe just take a sip or two first and then see what happens. Chugging this seems ill advised at best.
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maybe it's not cannibalism if they're technically a different species.
He does not know how long he can let Ciri believe she will never be remembered. He wants to fix this. For her, if nothing else, but...for himself, too. He hates how much his life—spanning centuries—has shrunk to a handful of moments that make up barely decades, years.
Naturally, Alucard being Alucard insists on this being a significantly greater ordeal than simply boiling some fucking bone in water and swallowing a cup. Geralt intended this to be, at best, an hour or two. Instead, it's taken twice as long, and he has alternated between napping and meditating for all four of those hours. Not until he hears his name does he crack open an eye.
Geralt sits up with a grunt. ] You're sure they won't return in a flood?
[ This is his main concern. What glimpse of his memories have returned, he understands they are...unpleasant. He is not interested in a "cure" that will only drive him to madness. ]
I don't think we win on technicalities on this one
[It made sense, of course. Alucard's blood always had healing properties. His bones now had weird magic that focused on rebuilding and adding structure. To think that finding a way to consume them might help was perfectly logical, if not a little unnerving. It spoke to how dire the situation felt from her perspective, and as unsure as Alucard was about how it all might go, it seemed a small thing to give a friend.
He sighs, leaning against the counter in the middle of the woods once Geralt's taken the mug.]
Maybe just take a sip or two first and then see what happens. Chugging this seems ill advised at best.