Hushed Willows witcher

no.

the breath tracked a shiver down the serpent's long spine, and a shudder of his fur sent a powder of snowdust falling from his murkwood pelage. stigmata glanced away, as if to peruse the truthfulness of her words that followed, but he used the aside just as much to steady his thoughts. it was haunting - to see his dead mother here - and feel that the place she now guarded was heaven. she could not have gone to hell, he thought, where all sandraudiga's surely belonged; she had not been one of them. only sucked into their lives and killed because of it. and though he could not speak of it, he would never forget the day.

his swordsilver eyes returned to her, noting how quickly she wanted to dismiss that diaspora could find anything filling within elysium's claim. at this, the gaze of the hound flashed, and a knowing expression - sly, clever, and cruel - disputed the claim without speaking a word. she asked where they were, but he did not answer. "this is a place for the children and the sickly, you say?" he drawled instead, snake-tongue flickering.

"and what protects such a realm of nurturing and healing, i wonder? i mean, given its choice location, i can imagine these willows have... suitors." she herself had boasted of the areas merits. what was to stop a wolf like him, and others like him, from simply taking it from them?