(geralt) the sorcerer's soulmate

Geralt of Rivia,
I write to you with utmost urgency, and so will not waste time with pleasantries. Witchers care little for smalltalk anyway, or so I hear. The kingdom of Temeria once again has need of a witcher, and none but you will do.

Some unknown creature has slaughtered a local lord and the entirety of his entourage of knights and servants on the road near the capital, and the squadron which was sent out by the king to find and kill the beast has not returned after nearly a week. One must assume they have met the same fate. The monster left prints of remarkable size in the ground near the site of the first attack, so it would belie that it likely did not take the travelers by surprise. But it is strange that so many of its victims appear to have died without so much as drawing their weapons.

The king is understandably cautious of mysterious and cursed creatures, considering his history. I request that you travel to Vizima with all haste, before more lives are lost. There I will meet with you to discuss the situation, as well as the matter of your payment. Be cautious of the southern road.

Yours,
Dorian Pavus, Magical Advisor to King Foltest of Temeria

-

It has been nearly two weeks since Dorian dispatched the letter by raven, and in that time, the road from Maribor to Vizima has become nigh impassable. Warnings have been issued to take a different route when approaching the capital from the south, but even so, there have been more victims. It is, therefore, a relief to be informed by a runner of the awaited arrival of the witcher he had sent for.

Of course, this is not the only reason Dorian's heart pounds as he pulls a heavy, fur-lined cloak over his shoulders and leather gloves onto his hands as he hurries to meet the witcher by the front gate. In fact, it hardly even comes close. The problem of the unknown monster no doubt requires the attention of a professional, it's true; but that it be Geralt of Rivia specifically is entirely Dorian's design. There is only one reason that Dorian is grateful to have ever set foot in the kingdom of Temeria: it is here that he has finally learned the identity of the man he's been aching to know all his life.

That he is a witcher comes as no surprise. Dorian determined as much himself years ago, given the rate of injury and recovery, and the severity of the wounds that he has apparently lived through. But that he would happen to be the witcher known for lifting the curse on Foltest's daughter five years past--Ada; a sweet girl, if still a bit skittish at times--had been a shock. Dorian had known from the moment the story was related to him; he remembers well the pain of teeth ripping into the tender skin between his neck and shoulder. And so he finally had a name for the man connected to the unseen hurts that have plagued him all his life--pain he's come to both resent and adore. (Though if he's being entirely honest with himself, it's more the latter, if only because it means he exists somewhere: someone just for him. A man who, if soulmates work for sorcerers the same way they do everyone else, is meant to love him.)

"Geralt of Rivia?"

Clutching his cloak around his shoulders, Dorian speaks the name aloud across the quiet courtyard, a note of hopeful anticipation in the inflection of his voice. Several yards away, a man stands beside his horse, armored and broad-shouldered with a shock of white hair and a pair of swords on his back, facing away from Dorian. Already, Dorian knows it must be him, as he feels an ebbing of the pain he has lived with for decades. It fades more with each passing moment, the dull aches and strains and old, smarting hurts that accompany years spent in the dangerous monster-hunting trade. Dorian knows them intimately; knows this man intimately.

He could trace the scars on his body from memory, though he has never seen his face.