what’s the point? you’re born helpless, so you find strength and then that’s all they want you for, to use you, and you find love, but it isn’t real. it’s a wish someone made once before they even knew who you were, and you find power and it turns to ash in your hands
“ How ravishing she is, he thought. Everything about her is ravishing. And menacing. Those colors of hers; that contrast of black and white. Beauty and menace. Her raven-black, natural curls. Her cheekbones, pronounced, emphasising a wrinkle, which her smile – if she deigned to smile – created beside her mouth, wonderfully narrow and pale beneath her lipstick. Her eyebrows, wonderfully irregular, when she washed off the kohl that outlined them during the day. Her nose, exquisitely too long. Her delicate hands, wonderfully nervous, restless and adroit. Her waist, willowy and slender, emphasised by an excessively tightened belt. Slim legs, setting in motion the flowing shapes of her black skirt. Ravishing.” - Geralt of Rivia
