Toss a Coin ? THE WITCHER ONESHOTS

Requested by: AmariannaRose

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A sparrow was an omen of death.

You slipped through the crowded city streets, pulling your heavy scarf closer to your face as a breeze rustled the fabric. You were dressed, head to toe, in a variety of garments. Only your eyes were visible through your clothing, even your hair was wrapped and neatly tucked into a hat beneath your oversized cloak. The dark fabric was warm, a blessing on the cool morning.

You usually went unnoticed, occasionally earning an odd glance here and there as spectators questioned your choice of clothing. A few brave souls asked if perhaps you were dressed for a religious purpose. You were not, but it was easier to say that you were. If you said that the Eternal Fire or some other god demanded this dressage of you, most onlookers simply nodded and went about their day. Of course, some would curse you or shoot dirty looks your way, but it was much easier than explaining the truth. It was the quickest way to shoo their prying eyes.

Unfortunately, some people also saw your garments as a symbol of wealth. Surely, anyone who could afford that much fabric had something of value on them. What these people didn't know was that you had stolen practically all of the material and stitched it together to suit your needs.

Regardless, today was one of the more annoying days. You were receiving much more attention than you liked as you tried to make your way to the market. You slipped into an alley to avoid the crowds but stumbled into a small group of people. Their eyes crawled across your clothing, slight grins slipping across their features as snickers bounced off the stone walls. You tried to back away, but you were caught in a box of bandits.

"Say, it sure is cold." A woman noted. "I don't suppose you need all those clothes, why don't you give us some?"

You shook your head, your cloak flittering under the movement. Your nerves spiked, your eyes darting frantically around as your head started to twitch. You couldn't stop the movement, it typically happened when your blood pressure rose.

"Hey, c'mon. Let's see that face of yours." A man growled from behind. A hand clamped on your shoulder, the other one tugging at your hood. You gripped the fabric, fighting to keep it on as you struggled against the bandits.

"Knock that shit off." A grisly voice broke through the air. You were relieved when the hand on your shoulder was yanked away.

"And who the fuck are you?" The woman retorted, hands on her hip as she frowned.

"A man with two swords and very thin patience." The owner of the voice stated, reaching back to grip the handle of one of his swords. The cocky attitude of the woman shrunk as she realized he meant business.

"Whatever. Garments look worn anyway." She spat before she slinked away into the busy crowd.

You turned towards the man who helped you. His white hair was fascinating, he seemed far too young to have hair the color of snow. You avoided staring directly into his orange eyes, they seemed to bore straight through your skull. Finally, you recognized the medallion that rested on his chest. You had read many stories about the monster hunting faction.

"Thank you, Master Witcher." You bowed to him quickly. "I'm afraid I haven't got anything to pay you with..."

"Don't worry about it." He replied, dipping his head respectfully in return. Just as quickly as he appeared, he turned without another word and melted into the crowd.