[ His eyes are keen, and he casts a shadow on the ground. Death hangs nowhere in the air. A witcher is not made by armour and sword, but no one has recognised his cat's eyes, they're are an object of curiosity. ]
[ Hmm. ]
[ He accepts the offering. Raising it to his nose to sniff at it cautiously, frowning. Followed by a small bite to the side — to his sensitive senses, the flavours explode. Salt, spices he doesn't recognise, new texture — ]
It's... [ His jaw clenches slightly. ] new.
[ It's enjoyable. But to the unfamiliar it's a storm of taste, lingering long after his small morsel has been swallowed. ]
no subject
[ Hmm. ]
[ He accepts the offering. Raising it to his nose to sniff at it cautiously, frowning. Followed by a small bite to the side — to his sensitive senses, the flavours explode. Salt, spices he doesn't recognise, new texture — ]
It's... [ His jaw clenches slightly. ] new.
[ It's enjoyable. But to the unfamiliar it's a storm of taste, lingering long after his small morsel has been swallowed. ]