There's only one striga, in fact, that Geralt's ever had to hunt, and that was the Temerian princess. He had certainly not escaped that hunt without scars, but had, in the process, broken the curse on the poor girl. So the scars were a small price, really, to pay to return her to a human form.
Apparently, he left out the part where he had to bite her to get her to let go of him, or else he may not have returned from that hunt in one piece. Judging from Jaskier's reaction, that's a grievous oversight on his part.
"I didn't think it was particularly important," he says, while Jaskier huffs and threatens to wash his mouth out with soap. If anyone ought to get their mouths cleaned, anyway, it should be the bard-- Geralt is quite certain that the song he wrote about the striga hunt botched quite a few of the facts that he'd told him about hunting strigas and breaking the curse. Perhaps lying bards ought to get their mouths rinsed out until they say things that are true.
Geralt is about to say as much when there's a hint of a spicy-sweet scent in the humid air. Lust, specifically Jaskier's, the scent of which he has become very well acquainted with. Geralt sighs.
"You're incorrigible, Jaskier," he says, unable to help his own fond exasperation, and drops his hands to Jaskier's waist to draw him closer. He buries his nose in the bard's hair, breathing in the scent of him and lavender soap and a hint of spice. It's a good combination for him, even if he's a bit of a slut who apparently can't help but get turned on at the mention of Geralt's mutations.
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Apparently, he left out the part where he had to bite her to get her to let go of him, or else he may not have returned from that hunt in one piece. Judging from Jaskier's reaction, that's a grievous oversight on his part.
"I didn't think it was particularly important," he says, while Jaskier huffs and threatens to wash his mouth out with soap. If anyone ought to get their mouths cleaned, anyway, it should be the bard-- Geralt is quite certain that the song he wrote about the striga hunt botched quite a few of the facts that he'd told him about hunting strigas and breaking the curse. Perhaps lying bards ought to get their mouths rinsed out until they say things that are true.
Geralt is about to say as much when there's a hint of a spicy-sweet scent in the humid air. Lust, specifically Jaskier's, the scent of which he has become very well acquainted with. Geralt sighs.
"You're incorrigible, Jaskier," he says, unable to help his own fond exasperation, and drops his hands to Jaskier's waist to draw him closer. He buries his nose in the bard's hair, breathing in the scent of him and lavender soap and a hint of spice. It's a good combination for him, even if he's a bit of a slut who apparently can't help but get turned on at the mention of Geralt's mutations.