wiedzminka | ❧ IC INBOX: Abraxas

[ Julie's domain is probably one of the easier ones to find in the Horizon, even without the knowledge of what a modern Earth nightclub is. There's always muffled music audible from outside, bass throbbing for a hundred yards in any direction. Neon lines the door, inviting people in, where, exactly as Julie had said, close to a hundred manifested partygoers occupy the booths and dance floor. They don't react unless directly disturbed, but they make a nice, dull background noise. The music is always the perfect volume; loud enough to dance to, but never so loud that you can't have a conversation. A pleasant, attentive man tends the bar. He always knows your favorite drink.

The further in one ventures, however, the more all the sound and flash fades away, until you're standing in an empty warehouse. An industrial fan set in the wall makes a slow, repetitive whooshing noise, and every step echoes. The feeling is oppressively lonely if you stay still too long. Not too far in, there's a structure that Julie added later, a lofted apartment closed off from the rest of it. Inside the loft, it's bright and bohemian, all jewel tones and wall murals, every spare inch cluttered with decor and just stuff -- designer clothes and shoes hung on walls, sparkling necklaces hanging from doorknobs, seemingly endless amounts of cosmetics on tables and counters. It's not messy, but it's very full.

Julie waits near the entrance, a pink and gold ball of smiles, waiting. She glitters from head to toe, the large Wheel of Fortune pendant on her sternum catching light and throwing it around. Her voice is syrupy sweet, with an American Southern drawl laced through it. ]

Hey, hon! Ciri, right?

Edited 2021-10-27 01:53 (UTC)

[ Ciri has noticed the place before but never ventured too close. Now, actively looking for it, she is faced with the realization that the noise coming from the bright, strangely-lit building is meant to be music.

There doesn't seem to be anyplace for Kelpie to go, as it's not the sort of building a horse would be particularly welcome, from the looks of it -- and it's very loud and bright and startling, the strangest and most dreamlike tavern(?) Ciri has ever seen, with unnaturally colorful lighting and all those people (the people Julie doesn't want to unmake, certainly) moving through it like a school of fish all glinting silver and gold and blinking in the dazzling lightning-flashes of bright cutting through the hazy dimness. She has moved through worlds like this before; there's something familiar about the garishly colored signs and lit-up letters in colors so vibrant they burn into the eyes. Familiar in the way a monster that should only exist in books is familiar. The sensation is not entirely pleasant.

Ciri lets her horse loose outside before entering and then makes her way further in, pushing through the crowd, the dozens of dancing bodies that don't seem to pay her any mind. They part with ease, dancing around her, moving to the thrum of the deep bass beat she can feel in her chest. It leaves Ciri on edge and a little overwhelmed. By the time she exits into the back of the building, the silence is an immense relief.

At least the wide, empty hall following it is something she can understand. The structure of it might not be what Ciri's used to, and the lighting also feels too washed out and bright, but it's quieter here. And she can see someone waiting. Someone with pink hair and a dress like glittering golden scales. Julie looks like some sort of fairytale spirit of fortune.

Ciri lifts a hand in an uncertain, vaguely baffled little wave.

Hon? ]

An accurate guess. Hello.

[ If Julie didn't already know Ciri is from Geralt's world, she may have been able to make a solidly educated guess, judging only on her appearance. Here, she even wears a Witcher pendant similar to Geralt's, which on one side sports the familiar wolf's head, and on the other the symbol of The Devil (which she hasn't been able to make disappear, even though she at least figured out how to make one side a wolf now, trading out her usual cat's head pendant for the one from Geralt's school because the Horizon makes it possible).

Having no need for armor here, Ciri's dressed simply in a cream-colored blouse with wide sleeves pushed up to her elbows, soft riding breeches with boots, and a loosely-laced leather bodice. Her sword is on her back as always, hair pulled into a loose bun at her nape, eyes darkly outlined and bangs framing her cheeks to pull attention away from the old scar that slices through the left half of her face. ]

I saw the people you mentioned. What is that place?

That? It's my club! I ain't named it yet, I need to figure that out. But then again, it's the only one, so maybe it doesn't need a name. The bartender is Steven, he can make you anythin' you want. Usually you don't even need to ask, he just makes whatever you like.

[ By this point, Julie is aware that people from anywhere other than modern Earths are very discomforted by her domain. It doesn't upset her that it's so -- she knows that they just aren't used to it, and their worlds are all dark and dull as dirt, and most of them seem to have no idea what fun is. She never thought she'd be thankful to be from the end of the world, but at least it meant she got TV and actual music before the apocalypse happened.

Whereas Julie sticks out like a sore thumb anywhere but in the Horizon, Ciri looks like she belongs in the world outside. Only that wolf pendant marks her as different from any native walking the streets of Nott; Julie has seen Geralt's up close and so she can recognize that it's not from this world.

Effortlessly used to ignoring the hesitation and boundaries of others, she wraps her arm around Ciri's without asking and guides her through the entrance of the loft and then up the stairs. Chandeliers of all different styles hang down and light the way, opening into one of the bright, colorful (but less garish than the club) sitting rooms. The air is a pleasant mix of scents that manage to not be overwhelming, different candles lit all around the room, their flames flickering off golden knickknacks and mirrors and any variety of jewel-covered objects. Julie lets go of Ciri and opens a door, dragging out a rolling rack that bears a wide assortment of costumes on hangers that she begins to flip through for Ciri.

It's possible she already had them and did not need to manifest them specifically for this meeting. ]

So these are some costumes! Like I said before, a costume can be really anything, but these are some real common ones. It can be a job, like nurse or here's a maid. Animals are popular, 'specially like cats or tigers and leopards. And then some are more about a time period, like this one here is called a flapper. It's what women wore in my world in about a hundred years before my time.

Does this help it make sense a little?

A club. [ Ciri repeats it with a slightly quizzical note to the word, unfamiliar in this context. But she can understand the concept of a hall for drinking and dancing, even if the whole look and vibe of it are absolutely wild to her.

...as are the costumes. This is not at all what she was imagining.

Ciri takes the supposed nurse costume from Julie, holding it out in front of her and furrowing her eyebrows almost comically. Considering how low the dress is cut, it seems perfectly functional for a wet nurse. Boobs out and ready to go.

Most of the other costumes feature the same scanty coverage. ]

Is Halloween a festival in honor of a goddess of fertility?

[ And Julie, on the other hand, does not see anything off about these costumes or what they claim to be at all. As far as she's concerned, costumes that cover everything are for kids, men, and losers. Unless you have a really good joke costume, non-loser women can also wear those. This is largely a cultural issue with many thinkpieces written about it.

Wrinkling her nose, Julie shakes her head slowly. She's not sure exactly what the ancient origins of Halloween are, maybe they were about fertility or something, but nowadays? ]

Nah, I think it was originally about the harvest? Like 2000 years ago or somethin'. Now it's just about fun. [ And really, is there anything more fun than the activities that might evoke the image of a fertility goddess? ] Anyway, these are just some that I had lyin' around. If you tell me what you think you wanna be, I can help make you one! Oh, or I could pick for you. You would look so hot as a fairy. Or a pirate! I'm sure I got both of those around here somewhere.

[ Ciri laughs, bemused. Fair enough -- it's just about fun, and the type of fun seems clear to her. Carousing, drinking, and wearing very little. Ciri might be getting slightly raunchier ideas about Halloween than intended, but maybe those aren't exactly incorrect ideas, either. ]

Saovine is also a harvest celebration, and one to ward off evil sprits and bad luck in the coming winter months. It is the beginning of the new year, so it may be more somber or more rowdy depending on the beliefs of a particular region or even village. Though I don't believe any costumes such as these would feature anywhere on the Continent.

[ She hangs the ones she was looking at back up on the rack, not particularly interested in wearing any of these. But Julie's next suggestions spark her interest visibly. ]

A pirate? Oh, I do want to know what you envision pirates wear. And fairies, too.

[ How little is it going to end up being? Ciri grins, cocking a hand on her hip and tilting her head playfully. ]

I'm interested to see what you would choose for me.

[ They absolutely are not incorrect, at least not the way Julie celebrates. Sure, she knows all about the family-friendly ways to do Halloween, but until she is cursed with children, she is not here for them.

Well, except candy. Candy is great no matter who you are.

Beaming, Julie heads into another jewel-toned room, this one a dark purple, and it turns out to be an enormous closet. Every wall is absolutely stuffed full of outfits on hangers, in every color of the rainbow and much of it heavily covered in crystals or glitter. Shoes line the walls underneath the racks, and a large table in the center, drawers on either side, displays various accessories. She moves toward a section that appears to have another variety of costumes, and begins pushing them to the side, flipping through them like pages of a book. ]

Okay, no... no... oh, that's where that went... no... 'kay, here's a fairy, but I got other colors for that too. [ She pulls down a costume with wings, and bends to add a pair of sparkling stilettos; she places the whole costume on the outside of the rack before pushing through it more. ] Aaaaand a pirate, here, it's got the shoe covers too. Mm, I think you could pull off this vampire one, too. You're taller than me, so it'd look real good on you.

Edited 2021-10-31 23:41 (UTC)

[ Ciri follows her, unabashedly staring and looking around Julie's colorful and very full home. She's never seen many of these things, and others she knows only in similar but more rustic iterations, and it's even more fascinating than Sam's home for being so packed with trinkets and baubles and items she couldn't even begin to guess at the function of.

But she doesn't ask questions, and instead just lets Julie look for the costumes she has in mind, curious as to what she could possibly think a scantily-clad fairy or pirate could look like. The shoes ("shoes??") are a surprise. They look so utterly impractical, she's actually interested in trying them on just to see what being propped up on the tiniest stilts might feel like.

It's the vampire that makes her burst out laughing though, in absolute delight. Ciri grabs it offer the rack, tugging at the tall, stiff collar. ]

Is this really what vampires wear in your world? Please tell me males also wear the same.

[ Honestly, she's free to touch or ask about anything. At this point, Julie is just creating anything she's ever even wanted in passing; there is a stack of Barbies in one corner, all still in their boxes, because her parents could never afford the real ones, so as soon as she could, Julie gave them to herself.

There's probably a veritable psychology textbook to be written about her magpie-like tendency to collect and hoard all these things, but Julie figures it's no harm done when it's not even real.

Snorting and rolling her eyes, Julie shakes her head before selecting a pair of very high black stilettos to go with the vampire costume. ]

Oh yeah, I forgot. Vampires ain't real where I come from. We only have them in movies and TV shows, they're almost all real sexy. That's like, their thing. They're all real beautiful and they can put people in a trance and get 'em to do stuff. We don't have any monsters that I know about. Most of the things we call monsters were just animals that people thousands of years ago didn't understand.

I see.

[ Thankfully, she understands most of the context for what Julie is saying this time, as she's had similar conversations with Sam, and by now feels rather like an expert on what a "TV" is and what the words are for the performances projected upon these devices.

Sam had briefly touched upon the idea that monsters from other spheres like her own have been relegated to nothing but myths in his own; Julie's home sounds similar, another place where such creatures seem to have gone extinct or left the sphere long before they could be encountered by the humans living there. At least, that's how it makes sense to Ciri to think about it.

So she nods and grins and holds up the leathery-looking outfit on the hanger against her body, where the legs flop listlessly against her own. What a strange material. Ciri can tell instantly it isn't actually leather from any sort of animal she knows (or any animal at all, she'd bet), but she couldn't even begin to guess at what it's made of. ]

There are a few types of vampires where I'm from. But only the most powerful look fully human -- and generally do a much better job of blending in, as far as I'm aware, than such a ridiculous garment would allow. I know of one vampire -- ah, half vampire, apparently -- among our group of off-worlders who would probably get a kick out of this. Or maybe hate it. I bet Geralt would think it's funny too.

[ At least, Geralt's version of thinking something is funny. ]

Now I'm curious to see what other 'monster' costumes you've got. Any other ideas?

[ The fairy doesn't suit her. And fairies aren't real anyway.

Ciri reaches sets aside the vampire costume for now, though. That's an option for sure. Even if it smells a little weird and the shoes look like they might be used for torture with only very small adjustments. ]

Got any griffins in there? Or a wyvern? Oh! Lamias and Sirens are rather sexy, as a rule. I mean, not really, certainly not up close -- but definitely the type of monster one could easily romanticize and dress up as for fun.

[ It is, in some ways, a blessing that at least the concept of many of these monsters seemed to stay the same across the worlds. As far as Julie knows, Sam comes from a world mostly the same as her own, at least to a certain point in time, with the biggest difference being the whole "hero" thing. Another fiction for her, although at least it's one that she doesn't see as too impossible.

But while such things as vampires and werewolves might be universally defined, Ciri is now throwing out beasts that Julie hasn't heard of; they might be mythical creatures, but they're minor enough that most people wouldn't know the names. Julie does recognize griffins and sirens, though she twists her mouth with thought. ]

So, I don't know what a wyvern or a lamia are, I ain't ever heard of those. I know what griffins and sirens are, and I don't think I ever saw a griffin costume before. But I know I got a mermaid costume! Mermaids and sirens are... kind of the same? At least they are the way I always heard of 'em.

[ She pushes through the rack until she finds a long dress with hand loops attached to the hem, and a crown made of shells around the neck of the hanger. ] Like this? Mermaids are real popular back home. There's all kinds of stories about 'em.

Wyverns are... large, flying lizards, I suppose. Assuming you have lizards. They're venomous, and they tend to go after sheep. Occasionally shepherds, if they get too close. [ Ciri explains while Julie looks through the costumes again. ]

Lamias are snakelike beasts with the head and upper body of a fair maiden. If you know what a Siren is, you can consider them similar, but they live in the desert rather than in the sea.

[ And Julie does seem to have some frame of reference for a Siren. If not... one Ciri really recognizes, but the costumes are meant to be fantastical and romanticized, not realistic, so that's all fine and well. She nods. ]

Hmm, kind of! Tail's longer, more serpentine. And they have wings. [ And no bras. But that's not a complaint she's going to level against the costume when her main takeaway before this was that there wasn't enough clothing to begin with. ]

You'd look good in that. It's very sparkly. Suits you.

[ Speaking of... ]

What are you thinking of wearing, anyway?

Ain't a big flyin' lizard just a dragon? We got dragons. There's two kinds, fairytale ones and then the Chinese ones, they look like big ol' snakes with itty bitty legs. [ Look, Julie is not a monster expert. She's frankly above her pay grade just remembering the difference between European and Asian-style dragons. ] I feel like I heard about somethin' that has a snake bottom but human top before, but not wings. And it wasn't called lamia, it was somethin' else. Nagini, maybe?

[ Julie, that is Voldemort's pet. She's thinking of nagas, she just can't put a name to it. ]

Yeah, this one is real pretty. I have a costume, though! I was gettin' it ready before everythin' happened back home, so I can make it look even better now. [ She moves to a different section of the closet, then pulls out a hanger bearing way more accessories than the others, a signal of her already-done planning. ] It's a deer! I learned the makeup and everythin'.

It isn't. They're a completely different species. [ She doesn't have any context for the rest of what Julie is saying, haven't never heard the word "Chinese" before in her life, but it's not too important. The idea is Julie has some context for a dragon (itty bitty legs, though?) so even if they're just stories where she's from, they can communicate well enough. About monsters. It's the little things.

Ciri's here to discuss costumes, though, not compare bestiaries. She follows along, peering at the garment Julie's showing off now, including the antler accessories and all. She laughs, clapping her hands once in front of her. ]

How cute! Can I see you wear it? I want to try on the vampire one.

Sounds like splittin' hairs, if you ask me. [ Not that anyone did or ever should, particularly when the subject is dragons. She will eventually show Ciri a Chinese dragon though, because they're cool.

Julie beams at her and nods, lying the costume out before she slides the antlers on her head. She then does not hesitate at all to just strip out of her dress (which, in fairness, revealed basically everything anyway) and let it fall to the floor with a soft clink. She answers as she begins to wiggle her way into her bodysuit. ]

Oh definitely, you're gonna look amazin'. And you gotta let me do your makeup!

[ Considering baths and swimming are usually done in public and with others where she's from, obviously sans clothes, Ciri doesn't even bat an eye as Julie strips to change. She's seen plenty of semi- and fully-naked women (though she'd admit, Julie is certainly a shapely one).

That brilliant smile is contagious, and Ciri immediately smiles back. ]

You think so? And-- oh, my makeup? All right, if you'd like to. Thanks.

[ Ciri ducks away only briefly to go back for the costume she'd chosen, following suit. The clothing is a bit strange to her, but she figures it's easy enough to tell where to put her arms and legs go. The material is still... a mystery. ]

Say... what is this made out of, anyway? It's not any leather I've seen. Or smelled.

[ It also takes her a minute to figure out how the fuck to unclasp the bodice part. This woman has never seen a zipper before. But she tugs, and it comes undone, and it's self-explanatory from there.

She doesn't realize it, but the pleather goes on a lot easier in the Horizon than it would in the real world, mostly because she doesn't expect it to cling and stick the way it should. She's not wriggling or hopping around nearly as much as the tight, shiny material probably warrants. Ciri slides the trousers up her legs -- strong and leanly-muscled, as covered in scars as her arms, and there's a flash of something colorful tattooed on her inner thigh before it's hidden -- and then tries to figure out how to get the top on. ]

Do I think so? Girl, look at yourself in the mirror. If you lived where I come from, you'd be rich just from postin' selfies. That's when you take a picture of yourself.

[ Julie pulls on spike-heeled black ankle boots, which she then goes to look at in the mirror, still trying to decide if she want to wear them with this costume. She goes over to help Ciri after a moment, adjusting the collar and helping her find the right holes for the arms. ]

This is called pleather. It's like an artificial version of leather. It's cheaper and a lotta people care about not killing animals for their skin. I ain't one of them, but pleather has some other good stuff. It's usually shinier, which is good for a look like this.

[ Good thing Julie explains. Even if it only sort of makes sense. It honestly doesn't matter what the details mean because she takes Julie's point -- and blushes, looking away suddenly flustered as Julie approaches to help her into the attached bodice. It's tight, but not structured, clinging but not constricting. Actually, it's quite comfortable. ]

That's sweet of you to say.

[ It makes her self-conscious, but also... a bit happy. ]

Pleather...? What's the "p" for?

[ Artificial leather sounds so strange to her. As does the sentiment Julie describes. It does remind her a little of how Julie was unwilling to unmake her Horizon constructs. It speaks of a world far less used to death than her own. ]

It does look nice. And it's lighter, too.

It's the truth. I don't lie about who looks good, you know.

[ Just say the word, and Julie will manifest Instagram for you, Ciri. Think of the filters!

Straightening out the cape, Julie plunks the shoes down in front of Ciri, reaching her hand out to help balance if needed. She's starting to get the vibe that heels might be pretty new for Ciri too. But she will learn. Oh, she will learn. ]

The "p"'s for plastic. You can make basically anything out of plastic, and it doesn't cost a lot, so it's used in pretty much everything. And you don't have to keep thousands of cows to get the skins. Besides, it's thinner so it's easier to dance in.

What do you think?

[ Ciri has... no idea what to do with such sincerity for no apparent reason. Or the way it makes her face feel hot and her heartbeat flutter, confused. It's not like Julie has any need to want anything from her or flatter her. And she doesn't seem put off by the scars. Nor does she seem to be saying any of this with an amorous motive. She's just bright and cheerful and eager to show Ciri this little piece of her world.

And it's so charming and kind, it actually makes Ciri's throat feel a little tight. ]

I don't know what plastic is, but if it's cheaper and easier to make clothing with it and doesn't cost the famers their livestock, that's certainly a clever solution.

[ But Julie is probably asking more about the costume. Ciri's balance is excellent, but she takes the other woman's hand even so, letting herself be helped into the ridiculously tall shoes. They force her to walk on the balls of her feet, and Ciri briefly considers these contraptions might be useful for rigorous balance training. But they are apparently for dancing.

Still holding Julie's hand, she takes a few steps toward the mirror, not nearly as wobbly as someone who's never worn high heels might otherwise be. Her steps are light as a ballerina's, her body instantly compensating for the change in posture to keep her light on her toes. The flush still brightens her cheeks, green eyes wide as she stares at herself in the full-length mirror. Between the sleek black of the shiny pleather and the tiptoe-shoes adding a good five inches of height, she's got legs for days. ]

It- it looks good.

[ She sounds. A bit shocked. ]

[ Julie is, underneath it all, eager to make connections with people. Oh, sure, she's a heinous bitch to people she deems beneath herself, but she's finding those people fewer and further between now. Life gets a little more bearable when you find yourself resurrected from the dead. Besides, she really has been longing for a real girlfriend since she got to hang out with that spy Dayna. All the lying and blasphemous subterfuge aside, it had been nice to hang out and connect with another woman.

It reminds her of the friends she had before the world fell apart, how they used to get ready to go out on Saturday nights together, how they would go out to late night diners while still drunk and 80 miles from home. The only part of her old life that she ever really enjoyed.

Giggling, Julie releases Ciri's hand and goes to the table filled with jewelry; she looks over the drawers for a moment before having a thought and manifesting something totally different. Thanks, Pinterest, for creating an endless repository of covetable items in Julie's brain. Coming back, she drapes a pearl necklace around Ciri's neck, reaching up to fasten it -- even in her own heels, she's nearly half a foot shorter than Ciri. ]

Of course it does. Honey, even if you didn't look like a supermodel on your own, I wouldn't let you put on anythin' that would look bad. But this is it, if I do say so myself.

[ Once again, Ciri doesn't really have the context to understand what supermodel means, and she finds Julie's terms of endearment a little odd, but-- she doesn't need to have the full meaning of each word to understand the sentiment. Or appreciate it.

Ciri fidgets slightly, subconsciously twitching her fingers over her bangs, sliding a few strands of hair in place over her cheek to obscure the pink, puckered line of the scar on habit. Her other hand reaches back when she realizes what Julie is doing, pulling her messy bun higher off the nape of her neck, allowing the pearls to be clasped around her throat. It's a very clever and interesting design, the rubies spilling across her collar bone and the top of her breast like glittering drops of blood. Ciri stares at it. For a princess, she is not particularly used to feeling pretty.

She licks her lips, heart racing, feeling a little out of sorts.

But-- it's a costume. And suddenly, she thinks of a way to complete it. It's just for fun.

This time, when she grins back at Julie, she's got pointed little fangs to complete the ensemble. ]

You were right. This is fun. Thank you, Julie.

[ Julie doesn't really register any confusion from those so far behind herself, culturally. She has learned to quickly explain technological things, or very specific references, but it's difficult to change the way you've always expressed yourself, and Julie is a pop culture fiend. Frankly, everyone is lucky that she hasn't forced them into learning TikTok dances.

Smiling at Ciri in the mirror, Julie pats her elbow as if to say See, look at you. Then Ciri shows her the fangs, and she laughs and claps, delighted. ] Oh, doll, you don't hafta thank me! I love doin' makeovers.

Now hold on a minute. [ She holds up one finger, then jogs off, only to return a few moments later with arms and hands full -- palettes and lipsticks and brushes, all manner of cosmetics. Sitting crossed-legged in front of the mirror, she puts it all down and pats the floor, signaling for Ciri to sit too. ] You need the makeup too, or you'll only look half-done.

[ Julie's exuberance is... adorable. Ciri doesn't even find it annoying she keeps calling her weird things like "doll" and "honey" when they've only just met. Something about the way she says it. Maybe her odd accent, too. She's from a very different place and culture, obviously, and it's clear none of it is meant to be offensive or belittling. It's kind of nice, honestly, how immediately Julie has warmed up to her, invited her over, welcomed her so graciously into her domain to show Ciri all these little parts of her own world.

So Ciri only smiles and nods, and waits patiently. When she's bidden to sit down, she folds her legs and sits, eyeing the boxes and brushes curiously. ]

I think if you can show me how it looks in the end, I can recreate it myself before the party. I don't have all these... things. But in the Horizon, a thought is enough.

[ She has never much been a woman who understood the need to do a weird dance of gradual closeness -- what's the point? If you want to be friends with someone, be friends. If you want to fuck them, fuck them. And if their first impression made you want to fight them, well, then break their fucking nose. Arbitrary timelines and artificial distance in the name of taking it slow is just nonsense dictated by people who are more afraid of being hurt than caring of what they might gain by connecting.

Julie sets everything in an array between them, opening several of the palettes before coating a brush in crimson shadow and leaning forward to begin sweeping it over Ciri's eyelids. ]

Oh, sure, but learning how to do it is the part that's best. It's like art, and it's somethin' you're doin' just for yourself. It's like the Horizon except real, makin' the thing in your head come true.

[ Ciri closes her eyes obediently when Julie starts brushing colors on her lids, not quite sure what the end result will be but eager to find out. ]

Why, yes... that's true. It's a sort of magic all its own. I know what you mean. I always admired the way some women can use lip paints and rouge and enhance their beauty with a few simple strokes of a brush. I admit I like to play at it sometimes.

[ She laughs, a little self-conscious, like admitting she actually likes makeup is weird. ]

That's the great thing about it. You can put on the outside whatever you feel on the inside. You can change how your whole face looks just by knowin' the right place to put the right color. Some men say it's like tellin' a lie, to do that, but it ain't for them anyway. I'll be damned if some man thinks he's gonna tell me how sparkly my face is allowed to be.

[ Julie has spent many hours of her life learning how to do makeup, and the way she delicately begins to blend out eyeshadow in red and white and black. There's a sense of purpose in how she switches between brushes, dabs glitter in the corners of Ciri's eyes to make them wider and shinier.

She eventually switches to a larger brush and shifts to Ciri's cheeks, creating the appearance of even sharper cheekbones with dark, severe blush, like she's carving the shape into Ciri's skin. ]

I can teach you, if you want.

[ Ciri's trying to keep from laughing so it doesn't ruin whatever Julie's doing to her face, but she smirks, pleased with that assessment. Fuck what men have to say about a woman's appearance -- unless the woman is doing it specifically to get something from some idiot because that's definitely one use of makeup Ciri is familiar with. ]

Men are stupid. [ she agrees wholeheartedly, letting out the laugh at last when Julie moves away to grab another brush or color. ]

Oh... yes, I would like that. I'm not used to it looking the way your supplies do, but I'm sure I can find something similar in the city. I have a small brush and charcoal liner already.

[ Using her looks to get what she wants is kind of Julie's bread and butter; Ciri will, at some point, meet Julie's idiot, who she initially snared because he was powerful, and who she keeps because she's afraid to be alone. He also worships her -- she would never bother stringing him along if he were any trouble. But he's good people all the same, for the most part. ]

Men are only good for a handful of things, and we already got substitutes for about half of 'em. Even the amazing ones do stupid shit all the time. [ See examples: continuously choosing the wrong disciples, combining insane people with nuclear warfare, not just fucking killing spies instead of turning them into a spectacle. ] They should just be thankful we ain't figured out how to breed without 'em.

[ She waits for Ciri to finish speaking, then leans in to begin painting her lips dark burgundy, carefully defining the cupid's bow, the corners. Satisfied, she sits back and offers Ciri an ornate hand mirror to examine herself. ]

So, whatcha think?

Oh, definitely. [ Ciri snorts, eyebrows rising in amusement, but she tries to hold still for Julie's brushes as well as she can. She opens or closes her eyes as bidden, looking up or down in some mysterious pattern whenever Julie asks her.

Ciri is a very good model; she's not twitchy and doesn't startle even with her eyes closed, though it's also clear she's not used to having someone else do her makeup. The lip paint is next, apparently. Ciri keeps her eyes open for it, eyeing the color uncertainly. It looks very striking. It's all... a lot more than she would ever put on her face, though it's less because she thinks it's bad objectively and more that she's not confident she could pull it off. Not the way a woman like Yennefer could.

When Julie hands her the mirror, Ciri takes a tentative look in it and gasps. ]

It's... It makes me look so different. Isn't it too...?

[ She trails off. Too what, exactly? Colorful? Intense? Too pretty or too sexy? But she turns her head this way and that in the mirror, feeling her cheeks heating up beneath the layer of powder. ]

Oh, no. It's perfect. Remember, this is the night you ain't gonna be yourself -- you're a sexy vampire. You're gonna find someone, get 'em all hot for you, and then suck 'em dry. [ She does not specify which meaning she is using.

She crawls on her knees to kneel behind Ciri, looking over her shoulder and meeting her eyes in the mirror. ] I can do an everyday look for you later, but this is Halloween. Now, you look at yourself and make yourself believe that you're the baddest vampire bitch of all and you're gonna do whatever the fuck you want.

[ Vampires are not inherently sexy in Ciri's world, but she takes Julie's meaning. The whole point of all these ridiculously tight and/or revealing costumes, even if they are based on monsters and, for some reason, certain professions. Is it supposed to be seductive? Not necessarily for someone else's sake, but the idea of just feeling like she could embody this idea of someone effortlessly beautiful and confident-- not quite like a sorceress, but maybe along those lines. Like the way Yennefer always turns heads the moment she walks into a room, her beauty a weapon as sharp as Ciri's sword, commanding attention and awe.

--but that's not her. That's not Ciri.

Julie's gaze meets her eyes in the mirror. Against the dark makeup, they're startlingly bright, a green so vivid it looks almost eerie. For a moment, she stares, from Julie behind her to her own unfamiliar-looking face in the mirror.

Find someone, get them all hot for you--

Ciri blinks and looks away, setting the mirror aside. Her heart is beating very fast. ]

I don't know about all that.

But thank you. For the costume and the face paints, and explaining your traditions. You've been very kind.

[ Julie's not sure what's happened here, doesn't understand Ciri's sudden shift. She doesn't particularly like such abrupt switches in mood; they remind her of terrible things, and it makes her want to lash out, fight it away.

She doesn't.

Instead, she just cocks her head and allows it to go, and when Ciri looks back up at her, the deer costume is gone. She's in the gold dress again, just sort of curiously watching. ]

You all right?

[ It's all a lot to think about, for Ciri. She's not used to seeing herself like this, thinking about how she might be desirable-- in a way that she also desires, in a way that makes her feel confident and attractive, not disgusted and small.

When she turns back to Julie, she is smiling again, faintly, a little uncertain but not unhappy. ]

Yes. You've earned my admiration, Julie Lawry. It takes strength of character to command such confidence so easily.

You've given me some things to think about.

[ Since Julie has changed back -- easy as a thought -- Ciri follows her lead. She'll come back for the borrowed items before the party, but for now, she's back to just being... Ciri. Even in the Horizon, her clothes are always a little worn, a little dusty. It happens naturally. She travels a lot.

She could conjure up anything at all, fine silks and jewels aplenty, clothing fit for her birthright, but she doesn't. And she won't. That is not who she is, or has wanted to be for a long time now (Witcher girl, they called her, derogatory and scornful; it is the least of any insult for her). Instead, she manifests her false Wolf School medallion. And the silver dagger Geralt gave her, replicated on her belt just as it is in the real world, with its snarling wolf's head on the pommel, where she rests her hand automatically in subconscious reassurance to stay her scattering thoughts. ]

Thank you for your hospitality.

[ Julie rises to her feet, still bare, and offers her hands to Ciri to pull her up too. There's still an element of uncertainty in her face, a wariness of sudden change even when it's just about something as small as a slutty Halloween costume.

Such swift mood swings herald calamity, she has learned. Or far, far worse.

Crossing the room to the door, she walks slow to let Ciri follow her, to not make it seem as though she's trying to rush her out. Julie's mother may have raised a manipulative brat, but she's a manipulative brat with decent manners to houseguests. ]

It's nothin', hon. I'm real glad you came, I had a great time. You can come back whenever you want. Even if I'm not here, you can always have a drink.

[ For her part, Ciri doesn't feel rushed out. She's taken up enough of Julie's time, and Julie has been nothing but kind and welcoming, patient in explaining and enthusiastic about sharing her world's culture. Ciri genuinely appreciates it.

She beams, all traces of that uncertainty gone now, as she stops at the doorway to say goodbye. ]

I had a great time too! I'm looking forward to the festival. See you soon, Julie!

[Alucard's lost count of how many pierogi he has crimped at this point. Many, he suspects, based on the plates that surround him, waiting to be fried and then devoured. The process has become automatic at any rate - take cut round out from under the tea towel, fill with filling, crimp, place on plate, repeat until nothing remains. He's long since run out of the pork and vegetable filling, and the mushroom and thyme is running low.

All he knows is that he was told the overcrowded Witcher homestead would be empty for the day, and that pierogi were owed. Alucard preferred no people around, and he especially would prefer Hector's absence. So things were wrangled to enable it.

Which means that when the door knob wiggling catches Alucard's attention, he frowns, unhappy.]

Hm?

[ Clearly, Ciri has missed the memo.

She stops in front of the door, blinking once. Her lips purse. Then, she sighs and shuts the door behind her, letting the satchel she'd been carrying drop with a thud. Without the sword at her back and dressed lightly, it's clear she hasn't been out far or working. ]

Just imagine. A Witcher coming home to find a vampire in their kitchen, preparing dumplings. If you had an apron, Alucard, you'd make a proper country wife.

[And look! He isn't even a wolf this time!

Alucard places the pierogi in his hand down onto one of the finished plates, before automatically reaching under a towel to retrieve another perfectly cut circle.]

I suppose this is both the best and worst time to inform you that when home, I usually forage with a basket in hand. [He is absolutely a country wife.]

I'm not going to apologize for overtaking the kitchen, but I thought Jaskier had told everyone to clear out for a few hours so I could do this?

[ What an image. Ciri bursts out laughing, shaking her head in wonder at this exceedingly odd, domestic vampire. She is absolutely imagining him in a little apron and kerchief wandering around putting mushrooms in his basket to bring home. It's... charming? Maybe? It's bizarre, but to each their own. ]

Was that today? Hm.

It hardly matters. I wasn't using the kitchen in any case. Help yourself. In fact, I've just brought some more vegetables.

[ Ciri picks the bag back up and brings it over, revealing some potatoes and onions, staples that are easy to grab at market pretty much whenever. ]

I understand your cemetery hasn't got an oven, but is there a reason you're here making enough pierogi to feed a whole family of strapping lads?

Really now, foraging is what gets you? [For once, Alucard's question isn't a dour, too serious thing. There's a little undercurrent of warmth there. Not joking, but lighter.] I've too many opaque affairs to have more ambition for anything but a quiet life in some cabin, foraging and cooking.

[If he can't get a long, long nap in a crypt, that is a second solid best. Regardless, Alucard perks up at the offered groceries, quickly scanning and considering them. There's a quiet nod if I run out of filling, that'll work, and then a more serious response follows.]

Partly a long running matter with Jaskier and Geralt moving from the Horizon into the real world, and the rest is to relieve energy. The nonsense with the Singularity did not do as much as I had hoped.

[ Ciri just sort of nods, preparing to ignore him and go about her day, since apparently Jaskier has given the dhampir free rein of their kitchen. She doesn't particularly mind, in any case, and wonders vaguely where Rinwell is--

When Alucard's change of subject catches her attention. Ciri stops, looking back over. ]

You were there?

[Alucard doesn't mind falling off into a comfortable silence. To do that is one of the highest marks of trust that he can offer these days - to know that to sit in a shared space with no words said won't threaten him is the greatest luxury.

So he hopes he can be forgiven for looking taken aback as he stops in mid-crimp, head tilted slightly.]

For selfish reasons, but yes. Why?

[ Ciri had been going around to sit on the couch, but returns to the kitchen now, slowly. She leans an elbow on the counter, watching him. ]

I'd like to know what happened. Your reasons are your own, and I won't ask after them.

Appreciated. [One of the strangest courtesies that Alucard has found from most of those in this house (Hector does not count at all), has been the tendency to not ask after personal reasons for actions. The lack of pressure or expectation of explanation does wonders.

The dhampir's hands resume their work, much of this automated now. Crimp, put on plate, reach under tea towel, fill, crimp, repeat.]

The expectation, at least from this place's view, was to run interference with Thorne. With what they call the Dimming, and forgive me if I refer to it as the solstice here, the Singularity and magic also wane. Thorne returns some of the energy they stored from the thing ages ago to the monolith, and with more hands present, there's more to potentially ruin.

[That's two more pierogi made.]

I can't imagine Solvuun's goals in being present, but it was essentially a race to the center of the crater, either to return the stored energy or to bring it back. I imagine that whatever has been returned to Thorne will be subject to experimentation. The overly critical science judge at that festival hall strikes me as the primary instrument for that. He was the one who provided equipment to those of us that went out towards the Singularity.

[ Ciri has kept herself abreast of the situation as well as she could without participating, but she does not interrupt Alucard's more thorough explanation even if she doesn't need some of it. The fact he is willing to give it, however, is noted. She merely crosses her arms over the counter where she leans, nodding on occasion to show she is paying attention.

The bit about Solvunn is new information, to her. Ciri's lips press together into a thinner line, while she waits for Alucard to finish. She hadn't been entirely sure until he confirmed it that he'd actually gone to the monolith itself, personally. The idea that Thorne has shards of some sort (that is how Ciri is imagining it) from the Singularity containing unknown magic and people are now simply carrying them around near such a powerful structure and fighting over it... doesn't sit well with her, for a number of reasons. She wonders why Alucard had gone, when he seems so disinterested in the goings-on of this world, but as promised, she doesn't ask. When it comes to the dhampir, Ciri is frankly sure enough already that he hadn't done it to seek power or out of loyalty to the prime minister here or any such thing. He is not a danger to watch out for, but he could be a source of information. ]

How many pieces of this thing were there?

If I said Thorne was operating with a dozen, I would feel it a slight overestimation.

[It is the fairest answer he has, all things considered. He knows that in action, it is easy to lose track of things, and his bats were stunned for a little while.

He makes a point not to read into any expression Ciri makes. It feels a politeness, given what she is affording him so far as reasons for getting involved are concerned.]

Whatever was present, I would assume a three way split with one faction have a slight weight.

Which one would you say has the most pieces, then? Between Solvunn and the Free Cities. I assume the Thornean representatives return the shards to the monolith as was the ritual.

[ But she'd heard it was supposed to be one piece at a time. Not many. Ciri doesn't have details, and it's much harder to find reliable information -- though the people in Cadens come from far and wide, and some of them are willing to talk. All she knows is it's meant to keep the Singularity strong, or some such superstition.

She frowns. ]

Did anything happen? The it-- The Singularity, did it do anything? Look any different?

I think Solvunn. I was rendered unconscious while in my bat form for a time, so I may have missed some details. Reconstituting myself from being a few dozen woozy bats was...unpleasant.

[Enough about him. Different. That gives Alucard a moment's pause, working to recall what he did see.]

On one hand, the word dimming was fairly literal. The thing was less luminous than before. Metaphysically, it had less gravity to it. Less pull. There wasn't any Horizon around it, only crater.

[There's a note of concern in Alucard's voice. It isn't the worry of what aren't you telling me though. It is what should I watch for for you?]

There's more going on beneath the surface. There was no time to investigate that.

So much for neutrality.

[ As if Ciri was counting on that. She doesn't actually give a fuck about any of the factions or what they want, but if it becomes a problem for her family--

She wants to ask about Yennefer. But it is too much detail, and she doesn't, despite how much she wants to know. Alucard is not... untrustworthy. But he is not that close an ally, either.

Instead, she simply asks: ]

Did you get to speak with any of our number from Thorne or Solvunn directly? Did they seem particularly loyal to the task they'd been given?

[ She promised not to ask Alucard's intentions, but Ciri has a strong feeling he hadn't gone because he wanted to help out the Free Cities or Marlo in the particular. It seems more likely to her others had also gone out of curiosity, rather than a dedication to their new makeshift homes. ]

It may still be so, depending on what they choose to do with them. If they simply hoard and make no use, then an argument for neutrality remains.

[It is a little piece of speculation, and Alucard has to admit, he doesn't much care either.]

And I did not. If I was not running interference, then I was spending roughly half an hour as a few dozen stunned bats. [Has Jaskier told Ciri about the bat incident? He's not sure.] Being impacted by a magic based attack is a novelty for me.

[Moreover, and more importantly, he's filled his current plate up with pierogi. Golden eyes move towards a stack of clean dishes beside the sink.] Could you bring two more plates over to where I am, please?

Who attacked you?

[ Ciri obliges, bringing over the plates as he asks. And yes, she knows about the bat incident (a fascinating power, considering she knows a vampire can turn into one bat, but many of them is new).

Once the plates are handed over, she decides to grab one of the large bottles of ale (an excellent invention) out of the ice box (another excellent invention that's impressed all of them). Yanking the cork free, Ciri stops the foam trying to bubble out by taking a swig right from the bottle before raising it in offer. She cocks her head in question. ]

Bottle or cup?

Not a face I know, meaning it is either someone newer or someone who was never thrown into Thorne's cells.

[Alucard shrugs. Both options are valid. He probably should care more, lest this happen again, but now he knows what to be on the look out for. A worthy experiment at any rate, even if it was not a complete outlet for his anger.

Ciri may busy herself with the icebox, but Alucard's attention returns to the pierogi. He has...probably two dozen left, based on the remaining dough. Just enough to move onto the desert pierogi filled with raspberry jam.

He takes the jar, smears a dollop onto the dough, and repeats the process.]

Neither until I'm entirely done, thank you. I-- [oh.

Alucard's eyes go back towards the ice box.]

I have no idea how to fit all of these in there.

[ It's becoming clear quickly enough that Alucard doesn't really have any information that will be of use to her. That's fine. She could press, ask him for details on who was there, what they looked like--

But in the end, Ciri doesn't care that much. And she suspects Alucard would get prickly and unhelpful over it, anyway. What is the point? It's only one person she actually wants to know the status of, and she's not willing to ask in such detail. She will hear from Yennefer soon enough, surely. ]

Why put them in the ice box? Just boil them.

Because if you freeze them, then you don't have to eat all of them immediately. That leaves the possibility of a longer stockpile.

[He could go on, say if Ciri's inclined to just boil it he'll need another set of hands, but that isn't strictly true and she seems to have far more important matters on her mind. The dhampir respects that much, just as he always continues to play by the rules of never poking at what is below the surface. If someone is inclined to share, it'll happen.

But he'll make an offer.]

If anything else stands out in my memory over the next few days, I'll let you know.

[ In line with Julie being excellent at throwing parties, she is also an extremely talented gift-giver. She enjoys coming up with and distributing gifts only slightly less than she enjoys receiving them (she really enjoys receiving them). And though she is from a family of neglectful, white trash alcoholics, they have Midwestern manners ingrained deep. At Christmas, you give everyone around you a gift, that's simply how it is. If you can't afford gifts, you make them. If you can't make them, you write a card and do a favor.

In the Horizon, her options are limitless.

On Christmas morning, there is a package left outside of Ciri's little cottage. It's a small, golden chest with three drawers, each with a crystal pull, containing a set of color-coordinated, luxury cosmetics. They are pleasantly perfumed and as lovely to look at as they are to apply. A folded piece of paper in the top drawer bears Julie's handwriting.

Practice. Merry Christmas.
- Julie]

[ it has been some weeks since she last spoke with, or saw, ciri. ever since she'd been called into that meeting with the queen and had found geralt there, to the fear she was being watched and any attempt to return to the horizon would - in turn - be watched as well.

her conversation with geralt was an expertly timed, paranoia-driven discussion that only happened because of the care it took for yennefer to get there. but that didn't stop her from looking for ciri first - to see if there were any clues, any notes, of how angry she would be with yennefer for once again disappearing.

( and she refuses to let herself be disappointed when she finds nothing at all )

that means, though, that it is another few days before a note will be found left at ciri's cabin - either slid under the locked door or wedged into the doorframe. it is not a particularly long letter, but the script will be familiar from the messages they've sent back and forth across the continent, except this will not be in sparkly script that shows up behind their eyes. ]

I apologize for the delay in your lessons and with reaching out.
I am now back if you would like to speak.
I'm sure you have questions.

~ Yennefer of Vengerberg

[ After what had happened with Geralt, Ciri has been more careful than ever with the messages used across long distances. The only people she really reaches out to, when necessary for a brief note on the go, are Jaskier and Rinwell. Geralt, on rare occasion. If she needs to talk to someone, she sets up a meeting here.

Yennefer has come to the right place. A few days later, when she checks back, she'll find a note pinned to Ciri's door in response. Yennefer's tent moves and isn't always there, so Ciri simply puts her reply where she received the note, knowing that Yennefer will check back eventually.

It contains a date and a time. Beneath it, a postscript: ]

You don't have to sign your full name. I know.

[ It's her way of telling Yennefer there's no need for the distance between them. Ciri might not have... forgiven her, exactly (she doesn't know if there's anything to forgive her for at this point, or why), but there's no need for formality. They can talk.

She waits, on the suggested day. The door to the cottage is open. Kelpie grazes freely outside, nibbling at bushes dusted with snow. Ciri sits at the table, polishing a sword that doesn't need upkeep in this place that doesn't really exist. ]

[ yennefer does comes to check ciri's cabin in search of a reply, because yes, her tent does tend to move, her domain an ever changing landscape of the various lives she's lived. the trick to finding yennefer in that domain, she's found, is having a yennefer who wants to be found.

but right now - with the queen keeping tabs and the uncertainty of how far that reach may stretch, yennefer doesn't want to be found by anyone. not unless she plans it, not unless she knows it's safe. that is why she is the one who comes back to ciri's, why she finds the note with the date and time, ciri's little post script, and then yennefer is just sort of smiling to herself. relieved, in a way. ( honestly, relieved in more ways than she realized. )

she arrives on time on the suggested day, stopping only momentarily to feed kelpie an apple and to pet her nose gently before heading towards the cabin itself. she pauses at the doorway, even while it is open, and knocks on the frame three times. just in case. before she gives a small smile towards ciri when she sees her seated inside. ]

I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long.

[ Ciri senses her coming -- not because she has any of a 'normal' witcher's extra powers, but because this is her domain, and she has been waiting, listening, expecting Yennefer to approach. She is already looking up when Yennefer knocks, and acknowledges the pause to ask her permission with a nod. ]

Not at all. Come in.

[ Ciri does not stand to greet her, like she usually does. But she begins to pack up her supplies into their leather, folding them away and setting her sword to the side while Yennefer takes a seat (if she wishes to).

The cottage is sparse as ever, the table this time devoid of anything to eat or drink as she'd been using it. But it is warm inside, and a fire crackles in the hearth, above which are mounted antlers (with the skull still attached).

Ciri takes in Yennefer's appearance with sharp scrutiny, watching her movements, her expressions. Her greeting is neutral, her smile a little less warm than it might have been before. ]

How much time do we have?

[ yennefer notes the fact ciri does not stand for her. notices the differences in the meetings they've had before and now. it is not anything sharp, or unwelcoming necessarily, but a wariness. a wariness that yennefer had known to expect. so even as she pauses for that moment in the doorway to wait for that come in, she is not surprised by the tension she finds.

her eyes do scan the room, noting the differences, and feeling herself settle into ciri's mood. when she makes it to the table, she does sit with a familiarity that perhaps isn't as fitting. ]

As much time as we need. [ a beat, before yennefer continues. ] Thorne believes me in the Horizon for reasons that are not entirely incorrect, but will not bring attention here either. They will not become suspicious of how much time I am here. Not this time.

[ Ciri's shoulders relax, slightly. With a wave of her hand, she crafts a pitcher of wine from the endless cloth of the Horizon, completing the set with two matching goblets. ]

That is a relief.

[ She pauses, taking the moment to pour, then to slide one of the goblets across the table to Yennefer. Ciri takes her own in front of her, fingers clasped around the stem, without lifting it.

Her eyes meet Yennefer's, steady. There is no accusation there, not exactly -- but there is a distance, a fence if not a wall. ]

Geralt insists you did not know. [ Before Yennefer can confirm or deny this, Ciri continues: ] I believe him. What's happened is already past. I'm not interested in what you missed. It's done. What I want to know is--

Was it worth it?

[ as ciri's shoulders relax, so do yennefer's, her eyes turning to the pitcher of wine and the two goblets before turning back to ciri herself. she finds herself curious - about the tension that is still in the air, about what ciri might be thinking, about where this conversation will lead.

but yennefer is here, and she's prepared to answer questions. that was the whole intent of this, after all.

her eyes meet ciri's and she can see the distance there (tries not to let it pain her, but it does all the same), though she also notes the lack of accusation. at ciri's question, yennefer lets out a breath, sitting up a little more in the seat she's taken. ]

The Queen comes from a military family- old, and powerful, in the ways of magic as much as the ways of politics. It means she's used to getting her way, no matter what it takes. Her husband is all but absent when it comes to ruling Thorne, so any and all final decisions will come directly from her. [ she knows it is something of a lead, and may sound a bit like yennefer is trying to defend her actions, to explain herself - but more than anything yennefer realizes she wants ciri to understand. ]

She's already proven that she's willing to act out against the Summoned, putting their lives in jeopardy for the sake of her own agenda. Whatever it is Ambrose has planned, it won't mean anything if the Queen doesn't agree. And if she chooses to lash out against the Summoned, there will be very little Ambrose, or any of the other mages, can do to fight her. She has the people of Thorne's loyalty, and everything she does is for them, above all else. And if anything were going to happen that would spawn a war, or if anything would happen that would put you in danger, it will be because of her.

[ yennefer pauses here, before she reaches for the goblet, her eyes pulled from ciri for just that moment until she continues. ]

I made a mistake, allowing anything to happen in that castle that would connect me to Geralt, or to you. It is not a mistake I will make again. [ there is a tension that courses through her at that. at the admission, at the knowledge that the only reason it happened at all was because of her. her jaw tightens, before she takes a breath as she turns back to meet ciri's eyes. ] No, I did not know. [ a low grade anger still sits under those words, but yennefer is not planning on getting into that, here. ] But now that my loyalty has been proven, as far as the Queen is concerned... I will know, next time, and I will be able to do something to stop it.

[ Even though Yennefer backs up a few steps to explain, Ciri doesn't interrupt her. She listens, sipping at her wine without really paying any attention to it, soaking in the information. The situation in Thorne is only a vague picture in her mind, clear enough that she understands who the main players are, though their individual goals and squabbles matter little to her. The more they push pawns around internally, the less time they'll have to focus on things that might actually affect her out here. Ciri doesn't think it's irrelevant, of course; the pressure is building, and one of these powder kegs will blow sooner or later. But she doesn't have any loyalty to the kings and countries of this world (or any other, frankly, not after she'd watched her home burn). Minimizing damage for everyone's sake is a worthy goal. It is incidental, alongside her only real goal of keeping her family safe and together, and eventually bringing them home.

She will let Yennefer deal with royals and mages. It is what Yennefer does. ]

I already told you. It isn't the mistake I'm interested in. It's what comes out of it.

[ Ciri sets her cup down with a metallic clink against the wood. ]

Does the Queen herself confide in you now? Or will she keep testing because that is what people like her do?

[ She leans forward on her elbows, intent on Yennefer's face. ]

You're pushing her toward something. Simple reconnaissance isn't your style.

[ It's not a question; they both know it's true, even though Ciri doesn't know what, exactly, Yennefer is trying to get out of the Queen of Thorne. She wishes, somehow, Yennefer hadn't involved herself with the highest power in that country, but it's a stupid wish she wouldn't dare say aloud. Ciri wasn't surprised when Geralt told her. She isn't surprised now. She just needs Yennefer not to lose sight of what's important. For all their sakes. ]

What has the price Geralt paid bought you?

[ the truth of the matter is that ciri isn't wrong - the politics of this world, the factions broken between thorn and the free cities and solvunn, the tensions building in the space between, they don't mean much for her, directly. they rarely do. and as yennefer has watched first hand, countries and settlements and cities will fall, and they will rise again. the difference, this time around, is the singularity. a single source of unimaginable power. and thorne is the only one trying to understand it. that will com to affect ciri, just as it will come to affect them all, but that is not the question that she asks.

yennefer watches her listen, watches her react, watches her take in information and understand it from where she sits. what she's learned. she is no fool, and certainly not a child by any means, and it catches yennefer yet again, how in her words and expressions she sees geralt. brash and direct, stubborn. and then with it, a spark all her own. yennefer sits up a little in her chair, sets her own glass of wine down on the table. ]

She is the Queen of Thorne, Ciri, I know better than to assume her actions. But she will not keep testing me, and will listen to my counsel, where before her only directives were from other native Thorneans or her own mind.

[ ciri's observation sits in the space between them, and yennefer doesn't feel the need to confirm or deny it - holding onto ciri's eyes with her own. she is not afraid of ciri's attention, but more than that, she is not uncertain about her decisions. does it still sit, uneasy and rotten, in the pit of her stomach what happened to geralt? yes. does what she saw, in his mind, follow her to bed each night? yes. but she will not back down from her own decision to stay behind. just as she won't back down from the process she's already begun.

and when the question finally is asked, yennefer does not back down from it. does not so much as blink, despite the taste that rises in the back of her throat. the price geralt paid. as much as the question pulls that from her, though, the answer is clear. simple. and it hasn't wavered since she made this decision. ]

Access to the only person in Thorne, potentially on this entire continent, that would have the reason, means, and power to harm you.

...I see.

[ Yennefer answers confidently. She doesn't even question it. If it's worth it.

Geralt never had, but Ciri doesn't expect him to; she knows what he would do, the lengths he would go. She knows Yennefer, too. Better than Yennefer perhaps realizes.

Ciri looks away, arms crossing over the tabletop, shoulders tight. ]

Please do not pretend it's only for my sake, Yennefer. You know that's not fair.

[ maybe that is what's most unsettling about all of this - that yennefer knows ciri knows more about her than she realizes. that ciri has a knowledge and understanding that yennefer herself doesn't have. it edges on uncomfortable, if only for the place yennefer had found herself before she'd met ciri in those dungeons. i've lived two or three lifetimes already she'd told tissaia, fully expecting, almost knowing that it would be her end.

and yet there was ciri, who had all of these memories, all of this knowledge, of a yennefer that she herself hadn't expected to exist. who was that yennefer that she knew so well? and why did she feel a constant itch that she was failing to live up to her?

yennefer feels her jaw tighten at the thought of it, at the way ciri's shoulder's tighten. ]

I don't pretend. [ she says, her tone not exactly sharp, but with the promise of an edge, if she needs to. yennefer can recognize the urge to be defensive, the way her body tenses in the seat, but she exhales another breath and looks at ciri.

she is not sorry for it. not for her reasons, or what she did. she is sorry for the fact geralt was a part of it, sees it as a mistake that she will not make again, and with all the protectiveness she can feel from ciri, yennefer can see echoes of geralt himself. ] But you asked me what the price had been for, and that is the truth.

[ and the worst part is - she's being honest. there might be more to it, might have other legs and other advantages and other things yennefer could get out of it, but the bottom line had always been ciri. the promise she made geralt. the promise she'd made herself, that first day in the cells. the spark. ]

[ She doesn't exactly flinch, but the sense of tension winds tighter across Ciri's shoulders and the set of her jaw, her arms pressed into the tabletop like she's trying to keep herself grounded there. So she won't reel back, or withdraw, or simply fucking leave.

Honestly, she'd hoped Yennefer would say something else. That she would admit to the political advantages with more enthusiasm, or explain the strategic value of Geralt's sacrifice in the grand scheme of their goals here -- access to the Singularity, to some more powerful magic, something like that. It would be easier that way. Maybe.

Maybe it wouldn't twist the guilt like a knife in her gut. Again.

Ciri breathes out slowly, closing her eyes a fraction longer than a blink. ]

All right. I understand the advantage.

Keep us informed as well as you can.

[ unfortunately, for perhaps both her and for ciri, yennefer has aged past the excitement over court politics. decades in aidern's court saw to that, and even while she finds herself in thorne, even while she knows what she's doing and can expertly work herself around this place, the enjoyment? the excitement? is not there.

she watches ciri tense under the words, can assume the reasons why, but she waits for ciri to speak all the same. and she's not wrong in hoping for another reason, yennefer has a list of things she gains out of each move she makes, but ciri had asked for honesty. asked for the reason. and this was it.

yennefer's eyes move back to her goblet on the table as ciri finally exhales, unsure of what to do with this moment. with this tension. ciri says keep us informed and yennefer finds herself nodding before a thought strikes her. ]

Speaking of. [ she does not feel the need to please, necessarily. she is not sitting here offering information to ciri in hopes that it will ease this space. but yennefer does sit up a bit more as she continues. ] You'd asked me to check in your friend- Alina.

[ The change of subject is as much a relief as it is a fresh worry. Ciri sits forward with a start, her attention narrowing. ]

How is she? Is she safe?

[ yennefer looks apologetic when she sees ciri sit forward. gods she wished she had better news, but any news at all is better than nothing.

she takes a slow breath ]

She made it to the castle not that long ago, and she was welcomed into the castle. I had plans to speak with her more, once she had time to rest, but in the few days time they had disappeared. She and her- friend. Mal, I think his name was? Together. [ yennefer shakes her head. ] I spoke with some of the other Summoneds and it is apparently not uncommon, but no one seems to have any more information. I did some searching myself, but couldn't find a trace of them anywhere. I'm sorry, Ciri.

[ As quickly as Ciri had brightened, the truth of Yennefer's news makes her expression shutter. She sits back again, slowly, jaw tight. When Yennefer finishes explaining, she returns a tight nod. ]

I see. I appreciate you telling me.

[ Then, she pushes back from the table, chair scraping against the floor as she moves to stand. ]

I do not feel like studying today.

[ It was never really on the table, honestly. It's been a while, and Ciri isn't quite ready for it, or quite ready to really unpack everything Yennefer's said. Now, with the news of Alina--

She can't sit here pretending to be interested in further conversation anymore. ]

Stay safe, Yennefer. Be careful.

[ As far as Amos is concerned, things are back to normal now.

Well, as normal as they can be here, which isn't very. Not for him, not in this world. But it's the one he's got now, so he's making do, same as he would no matter where he's ended up.

A big part of that is regularly popping into Geralt's space. The reversal had happened not too long ago; a bit of a change of pace, but one Amos has been perfectly comfortable with. Just as he's perfectly comfortable still coming to Geralt's. Nevermind what's in that basement. Thinking about it kinda makes Amos' skin crawl, so he doesn't think about it. Easy.

Instead he strolls up through the boneyard, same as he always has, carrying the sword Jaskier gifted him in one hand, personal shotgun slung across his back. You know. Just in case they ever wanna get some kind of target practice in. He'd showed it to Geralt when he'd come to visit him; now it's just gonna be the kind of thing he brings along with him every time he comes here. He's learning to be comfortable with Geralt's preferred weapon; feels right to bring his own preference along for the ride.

He enters the Keep, pauses once he's inside the walls. Doesn't seem like Geralt's here yet. Hell, Amos might be early. Who knows. Hearing about the events at the Dimming is starting to weigh on him; maybe it's fucking with his sense of time.

Either way, he's here now, and he's perfectly comfortable to lean a shoulder up against the wall and wait, casually inspecting what's apparently his favourite sword — since it's the one he took when offered it — while he does so. ]

[ Ciri might not have noticed him inside the keep, if not for the fact she'd glimpsed someone on the steps as she was leaving her own little cottage on the outskirts. It sits against the mountainside, but with the wall around Kaer Morhen in disrepair, the cottage is situated so that Ciri can easily see into the courtyard through a crumbled gap in the stone.

The figure definitely isn't Geralt. And it isn't anyone she recognizes. Still, she notices the wolf does not appear agitated, only raising his head to look out at the intruder without any signs of aggression, only mild interest. Curious, Ciri decides to see what's going on.

Perhaps sensing her vague unease, the wolf -- which had been lying down near her doorway before -- stands and shakes its fur out, loping after her as she moves toward the keep.

Ciri pushes the doors open, peering inside. She sees a man she's never met before. Casually holding a sword and what she recognizes now as a gun.

She frowns. Not aggressive (not yet), but just... confused. ]

Who are you?

[ Amos lifts his head at the sound of the doors opening, expecting to see Geralt. Whoever this is, it is definitely not him. They kinda have the same hair colour, and similar weirdly bright eyes, but that's about it.

He blinks. Doesn't change his posture at all, still leaning against the wall, completely unthreatened by this new person. If anything, he's acting like he's supposed to be here because, well, putting aside the part where either he or Geralt might've fucked up the time, he is. ]

I'm Amos. [ Like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Kinda is, to him. He glances down at the wolf that he's never really acknowledged before, back up at this stranger. Cocks his head to the side. ] Guess Hunter's not here yet. [ His nickname for Geralt. It's unlikely he'll elaborate. ] Who're you?

[ Who the fuck is "hunter"?

Ciri stares at him, then glances down at the wolf, gauging by its lack of reaction that this man -- Amos -- is not unwelcome. It's unspoken between them, but they all know; the wolf will reflect Geralt's feelings toward someone in his domain, at least to the extent that it will receive them with a welcome or lack thereof, perhaps even disregard. Hostility if it is warranted, Ciri assumes (though she's yet to witness it.)

It's as good an indicator as any. She tries to remember if Geralt has mentioned the name Amos before. He might have, offhand. Someone not near enough to see in person, maybe one of those from the dungeons she'd never encountered, who'd scattered to other parts of the world like Julie and the others. Ciri lets the doors fall closed behind her with a creak and a shudder of old wood settling into its enormous frame.

She rests her hand on the pommel of her dagger (its pommel carved with a snarling wolf's head), but her posture is relaxed. It's merely a comfortable position, not a threat. ]

I'm Ciri.

Are you waiting for Geralt?

[ Her hand's movement draws attention to the stylization of her dagger. Amos' eyes drift from the pommel, to the wolf, back to Ciri's face. Arright. So there's a theme here.

He still doesn't move, self-assured that everything's fine. If it wasn't, then he can adapt to that immediately, too. But this isn't anything. Just... meeting someone else who belongs here, apparently. ]

Yeah. I might be early.

[ He has the grace to look a little sheepish at the thought, bringing up his free hand to scratch at the back of his neck. ]

He's been helping me get used to the whole sword thing. They're not really a thing where I'm from, so, you know. [ A shrug. It's better to be versed in a world's weapons than not. ] Not like I got one out in the real world, but probably better learning how to use one now than if I had to do it on the fly. He's been good for that.

Mm. I see.

[ Someone Geralt has actually agreed to train. That explains it. ]

Yeah. Might be. You want to train, though, feel free. I'm curious to see what you've learned so far.

[ She cocks her head, eyeing him curiously. Knowing that Geralt is working with this Amos and teaching him to fight gives her a different perspective, one that seems to assure her Amos is not someone she needs to be too wary of. So it is not with suspicion but only light curiosity that she asks: ]

Why did you bring the gun?

[ Amos glances around the Keep at her invitation to start training on his own. He's got his form pretty much down at this point, and has paid particular attention to the weight of his weapon — even changing it up sometimes, considering how that's a thing he can do now out in the real world, but that's still a new one for him. Something he hasn't even really told Geralt he's playing with yet. It'll come up sooner or later on its own.

He rolls the wrist of the hand holding his sword, getting a feel for it; it's when he's about to lift his shotgun's sling over his head, lean the weapon against the wall so as to not throw him off, that he hears Ciri's question; looks up at her mid-movement. ]

Hunter asked about it when he came to see me, couple weeks back. Wanted to see it in action. And I like having it, so. Figured it could just come along with me. [ He finishes pulling the sling up over his head, and it's as he's setting the weapon safely out of the way, up against the wall that he meets her eyes again, his own bright with curiosity, maybe even something that could be construed as hope. ] You shoot?

[ Why does he keep calling Geralt hunter? It's a bit baffling to her, but... maybe it sort of makes sense. Hunter, Witcher. Something similar. If this is just a thing he does, she doesn't bother arguing, even if she finds it odd. Mostly, Ciri knows Geralt probably doesn't care. ]

Mm.

[ She shakes her head. ]

No. But a friend recently showed me how to use one. Wouldn't say I'm well versed in such weapons though.

I prefer swords.

[ He rightens himself, standing back up to his full height now that his gun's out of the way, holding his sword at his side. ]

Sure. You kinda look like him. Makes sense.

[ He shifts his stance; probably lighter on his feet than a man of his build should be. As he talks, he works on some wrist-strengthening exercises; won't mean anything here, where he isn't doing anything with his actual body, but it's more about the habit of doing it than anything else. Respect for the weapon. ]

I grew up with guns. It's weird not having them around. Sword's a hell of a lot different. Not like it's a bad thing, but not even close to what I'm used to.

[ Considering how he's never so much as held a sword until he met Geralt, there's probably a lot of similarities in how he carries himself with one. He shifts to a full front stance — likely an early indication that he's someone who's going to take the offensive pretty much every single time – and tries a few cuts through the air. Power's evident in his swings, but by this point he's also figured out how to maintain his balance, stay light on his feet. He definitely started off wild; he's not anymore. ]

[ Ciri laughs, cocking her head in amusement. ]

Do I? [ Her ash-blonde hair has paled even further over the years. It's not quite the shade Geralt's is, not actually white, but it's close. It's funny (it's not actually funny), but she actually understands what Amos means. ]

Sure. Seems guns are a more ubiquitous weapon for a lot of folks who've wound up here. But you're right-- that sort of knowledge won't help much when you're learning your way around a blade.

[ Except, perhaps, knowing what it is to attack someone with intent to kill.

Ciri's brows rise when he starts practicing right then and there. A bit literal, huh? ]

Let's go outside before you start slicing up the candelabras.

[ There's room, if needed. But the hall isn't the place for training. Ciri nods at the door. ]

You only know forms, or have you actually sparred with him?

[ Well, hell, she asked, didn't she? Not like any candelabras couldn't be immediately fixed, anyway. Amos quirks an eyebrow at her, but lets his arms fall to his sides, perfectly relaxed, content to go with the flow she's set. Whatever relation it is that Ciri and Hunter have, he's just content to have picked up on it. Figures he might fall into a similar rapport with her.

He turns to pick up his shotgun along the way. ]

Mostly forms. You don't move as much when you're shooting. Better if you don't, otherwise your shot's gonna be erratic. Not like I'm not used to strenuous physical effort, [ a lifetime a manual labour should be pretty clearly reflected by his body, anyway, ] but it's a hell of a lot different than even just using your fists.

[ He's right beside her in following her out. ]

I've done the chopping wood kinda shit too. Still working up to sparring. I think the idea is he doesn't immediately land me on my ass. I mean, he's gonna, but the least I could do is make it somewhat difficult for him.

[ Ciri turns when they step outside, taking a few steps backwards while she listens and guides them out into the courtyard. She snorts, eyebrows rising. ]

Swordplay isn't like chopping wood.

You need finesse more than brute strength.

[ He follows her out to the courtyard, blinking at the change in light before settling into it, still carrying both weapons. Even just the feel of them is so different. Having a gun in one hand at the same time as a sword in the other only serves to remind him of that, really emphasize how much he still has to learn to actually get comfortable with it.

Ciri's reaction only confirms that. His own eyebrows rise in turn, voice taking on a slightly playful edge. ]

Can't do shit to begin with if you don't got any strength. [ Hell, it's probably not a surprise that he's so obvious, though. Not like he's ever been a trained fighter. He just does it, and brute strength has always been on his side. He concedes the point immediately. ] But yeah, I figured. Kinda working on developing some new instincts there.

[ He tilts his head slightly, peering at her. ]

You probably fight different from Hunter. [ Just an observation based on different body types; nothing more. ] Got any pointers?

[ Ciri is not offended; she too concedes the point immediately. Nobody fights the same as Geralt, not even the other Witchers.

In fact, she smirks, cocks her head with interest. ]

You can try to fight me.

[ She wonders if she's about to get a weird nickname too. ]

Show me what you can do. Give you some pointers then. Though I doubt you can land a hit.

[ Which is enough to say about her fighting style already. ]

[ Now that earns a blink as he processes her offer, followed quickly by a grin. So they speak the same language after all. Maybe different dialects, considering as far as weapons go they have vastly different preferences, but the fun in using them all the same.

Though Amos' eyes drift back towards her dagger, then back to her eyes to address her directly. ]

You got a sword on you too, or just planning on using your knife? Or do you mean put the pointy objects away, go with fisticuffs? Just so we're clear.

[ No potential for any candelabra-esque incidents. Besides, not like they can really hurt themselves here, but probably better to get that established before he takes a swing at her and lucks out in removing a limb.

... She's probably right, though. About landing a hit. She's got that look to her: not particularly big, but you make up for it in other ways. If he manages a hit, it'd probably be a pretty big one. But he'd have to actually land it at first.

He's up for the challenge, at least. It'll be fun. Whatever her terms are — he'll happily go with them. ]

I could have a sword if I wanted one.

[ In the Horizon, she could have it in a blink. It is as easy as breathing, imagining the familiar weight of her blade in her hands.

When he suggests fisticuffs, of all things, Ciri laughs like he's told a particularly amusing joke. ]

Oh, no. I would never suggest we put the pointy objects away. Where's the fun in that?

The goal is to see what you can do with a sword. So show me. Imagine it blunt like a training sword, if you wish.

[ She doesn't sound particularly concerned either way; he can't hurt her in here, and Ciri's confident she can dodge or, if needed, summon her own sword if he turns out to be better than she expects. ]

[ His grin broadens, sharp and clearly having fun with this. ]

Plenty of fun to be had with just fists. You should try it sometime.

[ But hell, it's her turf — probably, Hunter's turf seems like her own — so it's her rules. And she's got a point. Yeah. He can play that way.

Honestly hadn't occurred to him to blunt his sword. Weapons are weapons, and here, they've got free rein to go as nuts as they want with no real consequences. Treating it like they're just hitting sticks almost seems wrong.

He blunts it, the blade's structure visibly shifting, like he's focusing on it bit by bit. It's quick enough, but not so quick that it just pops into existence as something else. He's mentally cataloguing the changes as he goes, how he's gonna change it back to what it really is when they're done.

Looks back up at Ciri, expression open. ]

Last ground rule. Does this end as soon as I land a hit, or—

[ And then he cuts himself off, charging at her before he even bothers to finish the thought. Maybe a twitch in his stance just before he stopped speaking would have alerted her; either way, he's probably lighter on his feet than he deserves to be, and his blunted sword is already out, swinging at her. There's power in it, a certain degree of wildness, but not so much that he can be knocked off balance, and he can at least readjust his stance quick enough to take another hack should she dodge.

He knows he's at the disadvantage here; isn't above fighting dirty at all. Never has been. A little harder when it's not his own turf, but hell, he'll make do. ]

[ She had suggested it more for his comfort than anything, since he'd seemed hesitant to attack her. Ciri notes the blade shifting slightly, the edge of its steel dulling, but she says nothing and doesn't bother with any other precautions.

Her stance shifts subtly when he looks up, weight on the balls of her feet in her soft, flexible boots. ]

Ha! Tricky. [ She grins, and it sounds like praise more than an admonishment, as she steps out of the way neatly, bending to the side at the waist to duck under his next swing and come up on the other side, her dagger in hand, a demonstrative swipe just missing (intentionally) the fleshy underside of his dominant arm.

In a flash, she's behind him, but she doesn't strike. She backs away again, letting him refocus and come at her once more. ]

Armpit. Thigh. Groin. Protect your arteries. Most people focus on the big ones -- neck, chest, belly. But there are so many places where a deep enough cut, even a small one, can cause big problems.

Precision yields more consistent results than sheer power.

[ His grin matches hers, even though she's effectively just killed him. He spins back around on his feet, facing her again, ready for round two, but listening attentively to every single thing she says. ]

Right. Get 'em bleeding out, not a whole lot else is gonna matter after. Guess I gotta brush up on my anatomy.

[ Or focus more on target practice. He's plenty used to the concept as far as shooting is concerned; this is different, but it adds an element to it. Like a game. Better for it to be a game here and now, when it doesn't matter, than to fuck it up when it does.

Still more than a sword's length of a distance away from Ciri, he points the end of his blade at the parts she'd mentioned. Armpit, thigh, groin. Centre of mass might not always be the best option like he's used to; especially not when said mass is quick and nimble.

Amos shifts back into a fighting stance, lunges forward to jab at her. There's still plenty of power in his thrusts, but rather than a swinging arc, he takes precision into account. Anywhere she tries to dodge to, he'll be back at it with another jab, degrees of movement added to it that would result in a sharp slice if he actually landed a hit with a pointed blade.

Maybe he catches her off-guard with a thrust, maybe he doesn't. Either way, it's a good workout, and as long as she's enjoying herself, so is he. Trying to adapt someone else's fighting style into his own carries its own challenges, and there's an element of clumsiness to it — but he knows to work on that now, so if there's ever a next time, he'll be better at it. It's a big change for someone who's never been professionally trained, who has always had to rely on his own strength and let it get him this far, but his pride has never gotten in the way before in him getting better at something. Wouldn't let it happen now. ]

[ before yennefer makes her way to ciri's cabin, she has to find a place to settle. she is already shaky, her connection in the horizon still something that feels somehow fragile, but her focus will have to hold out. it will have to.

the wolf meets her on the edge of the domain, and yennefer comes to a stop when it sees her. for a brief moment, they simply stare at each other, and she knows that things have changed. that she is no longer welcome, in the same way she might have before.

it does not take long - she makes it to ciri's cabin and knocks once on the door. hearing nothing inside, she tucks the letter in the doorframe, hesitates for only a brief moment, and then leaves.

whenever ciri decides to come back to her horizon again, she will find the letter is still tucked in the door, waiting for her. yennefer's script is clear and definitive. ]

Ciri,

My connection to the Horizon, and the Singularity, is unstable. I don't know if you have received any of my messages, but I am not receiving most that are sent to me. My ability to enter the Horizon is also unstable, but I have worked to make sure I can get this to you. I need you to know I am not avoiding you.

I would like to speak, when it is possible. If you would open to it.

I am sorry.

~ Yennefer

[Viktor does not even know it's Ciri's birthday. It is simply a happy coincidence that he finishes designing and executing the blender around the same time. Isn't that nice!! He drops it off at WitcherHaus with little fanfare--a brown paper package that contains:]

✥ One (1) analog blender, operated by hand crank. The blades inside seem to have been fine-tuned and angled specifically for shredding ice into the precise consistency needed for some kind of mysterious frozen coffee drink.
✥ Instructions containing the necessary proportions of ice, milk, coffee, and sugar, and also some tips n' tricks for what size the ice cubes should be, for optimal blending. Clearly all of this has been painstakingly tested.
✥ An additional note that if it does not live up to expectations or otherwise malfunctions, please bring it back and he will continue field testing.

[Signed, V.]

Edited (grammar 8T) 2022-05-10 20:49 (UTC)

[Once Alucard is sure that Ciri's household is back from their trip, she'll find a strawberry cake at the door to the apartment, still warm from the oven. (Don't ask whose oven, Alucard had to ask a weird favor.) The strawberries themselves are all overly ripe, juices bleeding into the cake. A dusting of larger crystal sugar gives it all a perfect sheen, and beside the cake is a new bottle of brandy.

No note is attached. Alucard is almost certain that it is obvious and sometimes your sorry you had to experience my fucked up trauma cake doesn't need a note.]

Edited 2022-05-12 02:42 (UTC)

[ The first thing Ciri did upon discovering a cake on the stoop was, like any normal person, look for a note. Or a... person. Nearby. Neither turns up.

She takes it inside with a mix of consternation and amusement, and immediately shows Jaskier -- who is able to solve the mystery pretty much at a glance, to the general conclusion of something made Alucard sad, huh?

Which is when Ciri sends him a note of her own. ]

Some fiend left a mysterious cake in front of my door. Might need you to come over and sniff out whether or not it was poisoned. Seems highly suspicious.

[Isn't it lovely when you're an unsubtle and obvious person? You can leave food around with no problem and people know it is from you!]

A fiend may feel it inappropriate or unfair to eat their own handiwork.

Hmm. Sounds like you don't think it'll taste good.

[ She's teasing. That's kind of like a thank-you. Honestly, she's not really sure what it's for (she knows what it's for, rather, but isn't at all convinced it's necessary, considering none of that was within their power to control), but she does enjoy a sweet, so she'll eat it. Alucard is invited, but she won't press if he really doesn't want to come by. ]

Edited 2022-05-19 23:49 (UTC)

Are you going to question a gift cake, Ciri?

[It may not be strictly necessary, but between her and Jaskier, Alucard still feels miserable. Not having control over circumstances doesn't mean you don't apologize for making other people live your worst traumas.]

Besides. Wolves can't eat sweets.

[He's not quite up for facing the both of them yet. Maybe soon. For now, he's content to get his remaining aggression out through working on the Hall and then curling up good and tight in his cactus.]

But will accept visits if you don't want conversation.

[Someone has earned Belly Rub Privilages.]

[ Oh, all right. She won't bully. ]

I know a breed of desert wolf that makes its habitat in one very specific old building. I suspect it's there most evenings.

That breed travels out into the city outskirts and graveyards to go home, most evenings.

But it can wait at that building, if you're not inclined to visit the dead.

[Sometime, out of the blue, when the hour is late—]

Ciri. Do you have a moment to speak?
-Sephiroth

[ Luckily, Ciri keeps odd hours; she's awake to see the message. ]

Yes. What is it?

[A pause before his reply comes in military-straight lettering.]

A man from my world has disappeared recently. I know this isn't necessarily uncommon among the Summoned, but there's a chance that he's

[how to explain]

unwell, and may have just wandered off during routine patrol work. You haven't seen anyone meandering the desert during your hunts, have you? Short, blond spiky hair, eyes that glow like mine.

[ She'd been a little worried getting a message like this so suddenly; this sort of thing is rarely good. The news makes her heart sink -- not because she knew the man he means, but because she's recently lost someone too, and she is sympathetic.

If he's gone so far as to ask her, this man must've been important to him. But Ciri doesn't pry. ]

I have not.

Are you looking for him now?

[His feelings about Cloud are complicated. Their meeting in this world had been nothing short of explosive and abrasive, with accusations tossed his way too absurd to even humor. Irritation, then, had not been uncommon between them, especially since they saw each other often as members of the Free Cities army.

But he had been the only other Summoned (that he was aware of) from his Planet. Sephiroth had remembered him as an infantryman under his command prior to his arrival in Abraxas, and this sense of responsibility is hard to shake, even after all that's happened.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't concerned.]

Yes. I have been looking for a while now.

The hour's late. [Daylight's long gone.] I don't think I'll make much headway. I'll try again in the morning.

[ That is what she expected. Of course he's out there, even now. ]

Are you far from the city?

No more than a couple of miles out along the main road.

[Maybe Cloud was still within Cadens? If his agitated, somewhat delusional demeanor had been the result of Mako poisoning, then it's possible he never really strayed. His condition could have worsened, leaving him dazed and disoriented, lost in a nondescript alleyway somewhere. It's reason enough to justify a slow return to the city.]

Why don't you come over? We'll go out together in the morning.

[ As far as she's aware, he's still rooming in the barracks. And if his friend was also there, it might be better for him to be in a different environment, at least for a bit. ]

It's just me here now anyway.

[She's correct — his rooming is still in the barracks. A place that's far from empty, but Cloud's departure is keenly felt in those walls, anyway. It gnaws at him.]

Where are you staying?

[ She sends over the address of the new apartment she shares with Jaskier and Geralt -- and Rinwell, until recently. Until she vanished too. Right now, it's just her, Jaskier having gone off somewhere (perhaps to stay the night with Nadine or simply stay out drinking), and Geralt's often out in the desert regardless.

Ciri's used to being alone, usually. But she'd also gotten used to Rinwell's quiet presence here. Now, it feels much emptier. ]

It's above the bookshop & bakery. Just go around the side and up the wooden steps.

[He takes an easy mental note of the address, already mapping it out in his mind, though he still needs to make the trek back to the city proper.]

I'll be there within the hour.

[It takes a good forty minutes to return to Cadens. Fifteen minutes or so to find the apartment she's described for him nearby -- a bookshop and bakery, around the side, and up the wooden steps. But in the end, he ends up at her door just within the threshold of an hour. His knuckles rap against the door twice.]

[ Assuming Sephiroth's had nothing to eat since he was out searching, Ciri spends the time cutting up some fruit and cheese, alongside one of the fresh loaves of bread they have in ready supply between the bakery below and Jaskier's hobby baking. She sets out some nuts and dates, dried meat of some sort Geralt brought back before he left again. It fills the near-hour, more or less, keeps her busy in the quiet. A small fire crackles in the hearth more for the noise and atmosphere than warmth, considering the windows are also open to let in the breeze.

Sephiroth will find her sitting on the couch near the fire, oiling her sword. She calls out when he knocks. ]

Come in. It's unlocked.

[When he enters, he has the look of a man who's spent the evening wandering the desert. Even his own fastidious nature cannot shield him from the sand gumming up in thin layers across his uniform, the way it dusts his cheekbones. Even his hair shows strands out of place, illuminated faintly in the light emanating from the fire.

Sephiroth casts his gaze about, finds Ciri nearby first, tending to her sword. The quaint spread of food is noted next, and he realizes, somewhat belatedly, that he is hungry. He has had only one meal today, early this morning — and while he can sustain himself on even less than that, it isn't ideal.

He shuts the door gently behind him, stepping further in.]

…Thank you for the offer to help.

You've helped me before.

[ She answers simply -- because it is that simple, in the end. He's been a trustworthy ally (friend, even), and she can repay the same in kind. Even if she's not confident they have anyone to search for, if the man from his home world is really gone.

It's company Ciri can provide instead, though. And a reminder to eat something, rather than pushing himself on nothing at all. ]

Sit at the table. I'll join you in a moment.

Wine or ale?

[He supposes it’s as simple as that. Offered aid is returned in kind, though he does not think to expect it — in some way, it surprises him, even if it is transactional. Though maybe that’s not giving it enough credit. He considers her a friend, and though he doesn’t like to rely too overtly on others, it’s comforting to know that Ciri is someone he can trust with more personal worries.

He crosses over to the table, pulling out a chair to sit. Sephiroth pulls at the fingers of his dark gloves, just as marred with sand in their leather creases. Best to remove them before a meal.]

Ale sounds good.

[ She finishes what she is doing, puts away her supplies and her blade, letting him eat some in the meantime and giving him some time to rest. He doesn't say anything else yet, so she does not ask. The silence is filled with the sound of Ciri moving around, washing her hands and grabbing a bottle of ale from the ice box (cold ale has been a revelation to those from her world). She joins him after a minute, along with two pewter mugs, in which the ale is poured and handed over. ]

We have stronger stuff too.

[ Depending on how he's feeling. ]

And more bread. Eat as much as you want.

[He nods, taking the mug, though he doesn’t feel the need to request anything stronger. It would be a moot point, considering he’d have to bleed their whole supply dry were Sephiroth to feel any effect, but the offer is appreciated all the same.

Again, he fills the air with silence, knowing that it’s better suited to conversation, but he’s sorting through his words, not completely sure how to enunciate how he’s feeling about the whole matter. In the interim, he eats what she’s laid out for him—whatever is closest—allowing for some time to fill his stomach before, finally:]

Do you think it’s realistic to expect to find him? Out in the desert.

[Sephiroth is pragmatic, sometimes unforgivingly so. Even now, holding out a little hope, he knows the answer is not as kind.]

[ So he doesn't eat alone, Ciri picks at some of the fruit, more for something to do with her hands other than the occasional drink than anything else. It gives her, at least, a moment to consider her answer. ]

You ask me something like that, I'm going to reply honestly.

[ She tells him steadily, leveling a serious look at Sephiroth and meeting his eyes. Some part of her might want to spare his feelings, but that part has long since learned nothing good ever comes of that in the end. ]

I don't know enough to say anything definitively. Could be he's out there. Could be he's gone. But realistically speaking, one of these has a higher likelihood, all things considered.

You should check his domain in the Horizon. Should find your answer there.

[He prefers honesty. Expecting the worst is the more practical option; and it means that should he be pleasantly surprised, all the better for it. Sephiroth looks at her evenly, about as steadily as she replies to his question. Having forgotten about his food for now, he shakes his head, his brows slanting.]

No. I can't.

[For as unlikely as that sounds, it requires explanation.]

Cloud and I were never... close. In fact, we did not see eye-to-eye ever since my arrival to this planet. He had changed in ways I did not expect. [To say the least.] And I don't know where his domain would have been, or if he even created one to start.

I realize that's odd, coming from a man invested in seeking out his whereabouts now.

Mm. I see.

[ Ciri nods, not questioning it. There is a certain camaraderie that comes from being of the same world; even if he and Cloud aren't close, or even hold opposing views, she can understand why Sephiroth would at least want to know whether or not he's disappeared. ]

I've heard the name. Surely he had friends among the Summoned-- at least acquaintances. Let me ask around.

[He doubts even that. Cloud had not made friends among the Free Cities' army. He was churlish and bristly and ill-tempered; so far departed from the fresh-faced recruit he had known as they traveled to Nibelheim together.]

I wouldn't be too certain. But maybe you'll get lucky.

[And Ciri is likely better at scenting out information and rumor better than him. There is something about being dressed as a city guard that makes spines stiffen, makes a citizen's lips not nearly as loose.

He is beset, suddenly, by a vague feeling of frustration.]

I should have been more patient with him.

It wouldn't have mattered. [ She says plainly, but not unkindly. ]

If he's gone, he's gone. You could have done nothing about it.

[ Just as none of them had been able to predict or prevent Rinwell's disappearance. Her room in the loft upstairs stands empty, no matter how much effort and care had been put into it by several pairs of hands. Hector is gone, too. People just... do that. They vanish. They leave.

Ciri reaches for the ale, considering something stronger. The urge comes suddenly to rescind her offer of help, to shut down this relationship too before it grows too painful. She swallows. ]

Don't bother with regrets. We'll look and ask around. There's nothing more to do.

[She's right. Of course she is. He has much he should've asked Cloud while he was here, but he didn't, plain and simple, and perhaps there's no point in ruminating. In assuming he could have wrung out answers from the man when he was so unwilling to speak to him, anyway.

So he just nods, tends to his food for a minute or two more in silence. Takes that time to set his frustration aside, box it up and ignore it.

Eventually—]

I need to wash up. Do you mind?

[He is still gritty and unpresentable (in his estimation) from his trek in the desert. He won't be able to sleep like this.]

[ The silence feels heavy, a bit oppressive, but Ciri's not really sure what to fill it with that won't sound... trite. And she's not the sort to give him empty words of comfort any more than Sephiroth is the sort to appreciate them. She's not going to say they'll find Cloud for sure, or that it's going to be okay. She's said her piece: it is what it is, and now they have to make do with the reality of whatever has happened. Just like she's had to make do with the reality of Rinwell's absence, the empty space of her room, slowly being transformed into a library both for practical and sentimental reasons. The same as Jaskier has to keep going every day without Hector.

So Ciri is quiet, and they eat together in silence, and when the ale runs out she refills his cup.

Eventually, Sephiroth speaks. Ciri nods. ]

Not at all.

[ The chair legs scrape against the wooden floor when Ciri moves to stand. ]

I'll run the bath for you.

[ A much easier and more convenient task here than it ever ways back on the Continent, even in the royal palace. Cadens has its comforts. The water's even hot. ]

[He stands once she does, too, pushing his chair back. His mostly-empty cup of ale stares back up at him.]

I appreciate it, Ciri. But you don’t have to wait on me hand and foot just because I’m a guest in your home.

[Despite himself, and the lingering, serious mood left at the table, he does sound appreciative, forcing a note something easier into his words.]

Is that what you think I'm doing?

[ Ciri snorts. ]

Don't worry. I'll make you wash the dishes.

[ But she leads him to the bathroom anyway, gets the water running and offers him a towel. ]

You can probably borrow something of Jaskier's. Doubt my clothes would fit, though you're welcome to try.

[He follows, and takes the towel without thinking, holding it with both hands. Flatly-]

Jaskier's will have to do.

[If the man doesn't mind it; well, it's fine, probably.]

Things will spill out in places they shouldn't if I wear anything of yours.

[ His deadpan delivery might make it difficult to tell if he's joking for some, but Ciri's rather used to this style of humor. She laughs. Maybe he's feeling a little better already, if he's making quips like that. ]

Don't worry. All of Jaskier's clothes are designed to let things spill out as they should.

I'll go find you something. Shout if you need me.

[Jaskier's clothing? Sephiroth's mind briefly wanders to his short acquaintance with the man, and specifically his mode of dress. He cannot say that it… suits him, particularly, but he's also keenly aware that beggars cannot be choosers. They will be clean, sweat and sand-free, and that is all that he will need for tonight.]

I will.

[Shout if he needs her. Doubtful, though — he glances over to the tub, filling up with warm water. After Ciri leaves, Sephiroth sets the towel aside and begins unbuttoning his uniform. At the very least, he's eager to get out of these clothes, and will have already peeled off his officer's jacket by the time she returns, working at his undershirt instead.]

[ Ciri returns with a folded set of trousers -- purple, but otherwise thankfully fairly plain, and loose enough to be comfortable -- and an off-white chemise with only a bit of frill, with a deep V for a neckline. She leaves them on the towel rack nearby, lingering a moment, ostensibly to see if Sephiroth needs anything but perhaps also a tiny bit to watch him undress. Not that she's staring too obviously. ]

...I'll leave you to it, then.

[He glances at her, fingers still working at his shirt idly. Jaskier’s soon-to-be-borrowed clothes are too neatly folded for him to remark on their style, and so he only nods.]

I won’t be long.

[When Ciri takes her leave, and after the bath has filled with steaming water, he’s conscious enough to be fairly expedient (if not very through) where removing dirt and grime is concerned, soaking in the tub just long enough to reflect on the day and not terribly longer.

Getting out, drying off, and getting dressed is just as straightforward, though when he catches his reflection in the mirror, he finds himself pausing for a moment in a surreal sort of assessment. Purple trousers. Any kind of frill at all.

(He reminds himself, again, that beggars can’t be choosers.)

Sephiroth returns to the common area, seeking out Ciri, a hand tugging at the length of his sleeve.]

…don’t laugh.

[ Unfortunately, his request (warning?) comes too late. Ciri is already laughing. ]

Oooh, no. Purple is not your color, is it?

[ Ciri giggles, already up from the couch to come over and examine his outfit close up. ]

...the shirt looks rather nice though.

[He closes his eyes under her scrutiny, not quite like a petulant child, but... almost.]

The shirt is ridiculous. [Flatly. The color, the frills. (He does not seem to mind how much of his chest it shows off, though.)

...But maybe it is just a tad bit embarrassing, having Ciri laugh at his expense. He opens his eyes to look at her, even if she's still trying to get a gander of his new outfit up-close.]

How is it that Jaskier can stand to walk around like this?

[ She's even closer when he opens his eyes. Ciri reaches out to straighten some of the ruffles down the wide V in the front, pressing them down to lay flat against his chest. (And, consequently, definitely also touching his chest. Totally not the intent here, of course.)

She laughs. ]

Confidence, my good fellow. In abundance.

[She is close, and though he had not planned to move away, Sephiroth consciously remains stock-still as her hands roam over his borrowed shirt's ridiculous frills. As her fingers linger, he casts his gaze to fix somewhere over her shoulder, suddenly very aware of their close proximity in a way he had not truly ever considered before.]

I prefer black.

[He says, uselessly, regarding the preference of color. Is it warm in here, suddenly?]

[ Ciri pulls back, just a little. Her lips quirk, eyebrows up, as she surveys him. ]

Are you sulking?

[He crosses his arms, disarranging the ruffles sewn into his garment.]

No.

[Yes.]

But you think I look ridiculous.

[ Ciri scoffs, cocking a fist on her hip and gesturing at him with the other hand, impatient. ]

I do not! I just said I thought it looks nice!

[He huffs out a sigh, and lets a beat of silence pass before replying.]

You can't tell me you prefer this to my uniform.

[ Ciri's brows rise. ]

I can't?

And what if I said I do?

[ The trousers could be... a little less gaudy, perhaps. But the uniform is boring. She looks genuinely disbelieving that he's arguing with her on this. ]

[Sephiroth does not mind the uniform, though Ciri may be in for a surprise if she ever sees his SOLDIER uniform from home, one day. It is debatably a lot flashier, in a different manner altogether, than what he's wearing now.

Obviously, though, he doesn't see it that way.]

Then I'll have to disappoint, because I don't think Jaskier would appreciate me stealing his clothes just to impress you.

[ Ciri gasps, exaggerated and grinning. ]

You want to impress me?

[Ah... too late to abort.

Sephiroth looks away again; that spot on the wall sure is interesting.]

I... [He doesn't finish his sentence. Finally, trying to salvage this-] I haven't already?

[ Is he flustered? It's... kind of charming. Ciri just starts laughing, and maybe she's a little flustered too, feeling slightly warm. At the very least, Sephiroth doesn't seem so down about his friend anymore. A worthwhile distraction. ]

Maybe you should try a little harder...

[Still looking at the wall, letting the pause stretch as far as possible, before finally flicking his eyes back at her. He assesses, for a moment, compelled to pry.]

You're difficult to impress. You have to give me something to work with, at least.

All right.

[ The way he's staring at the wall is not lost on her, and it is also quite amusing. ]

Take the subject at hand, then. Your clothing. Incessantly boring, always in that military-issued garb. And that's not me being difficult, you know. That is a fact.

[She thinks his clothes are boring...?

Well. Maybe she's right, he realizes for literally the first time ever, finally having a reason to compare his uniform to what he is accustomed to on Gaia. Perhaps the issue is that he never expected otherwise, being so low on the military ladder.]

...So you're suggesting I should take a day to go shopping for clothes?

[Even so, what a laughable thought. Just look at him, okay.]

Yes! Exactly.

[ She brightens, apparently genuinely excited by this idea. ]

I'll come with you. You spend most of your time patrolling or at the barracks, isn't that right? Have you even properly explored the city when it's not for work?

Yes.

[(No.)]

Occasionally.

[But Sephiroth is vain enough to not dismiss the idea fully.]

…If I take you shopping with me, you have to promise that I have some say in what I wear.

[He is under the impression that Ciri would have very Strong Opinions about every article of clothing chosen, whether good or bad.]

[ Oh, he is so transparent. Ciri snickers, giving him a very obvious up and down look. ]

Only some say? Very well. I will accompany you and have most of the say, since that's what you wish.

[ Give an inch, she'll take the whole yard stick. Especially when he's floundering so charmingly like this, pretending that he isn't. Don't let a lioness sense weakness!

Ciri gives his shoulder a little pat, then steps around to walk past him and sit back down on the sofa again. She's brought out another bottle -- vodka this time, and an accompaniment of some berries and desert fruit from the market. ]

Sit down. Get drunk. You don't have anywhere else to be tonight.

[It looks like he might be in over his head, but he’s committed to the idea — and if the whole thing unravels into Ciri picking out all his outfits, then he only has his past self to blame.

He exhales (pretending as if he does not look forward to the outing, just a little), and when she comes back around with the bottle, he raises his brows.]

It’ll take a lot more than that.

[For him to get drunk.]

But I welcome the challenge. Like you said, I have nowhere else to be.

[ Ciri rolls her eyes, jumps back up, and goes back to the kitchen. A brief amount of banging around in the cabinet, and she's back, dropping another bottle of vodka on the table beside the first with a satisfying thud. (They have money, and plenty of booze; Jaskier won't mind.) ]

There.

[ She flops down on the couch again, and if Sephiroth hasn't already taken a seat, he will get dragged down to join her. Once settled, she grabs one of the bottles, pops the cork, and shoves it in his direction. She does not offer him a cup.

Then, she opens a drawer on the side of the table and pulls out the velvet bag containing her deck of cards -- a gift from Jaskier, hand-painted and gilded at the edges. ]

You know any card games?

[Thankfully, he does not have to drag him down into a seat, having found himself sinking down comfortably onto the couch on his own. Sephiroth takes the bottle with some awkwardness, examining the liquid in the glass, though he does not reject the notion outright. He’ll drink — and looking at Ciri unearthing the cards, apparently, he’ll play, too.

Though he does have to think for a moment.]

…No.

[~~when your ff game is the one without a card mini game~~ Well, he’s honest.]

But you can teach me.

None? [ Ciri looks genuinely surprised, and a little aghast. Cards are something most worlds seem to have, though in variations that may or may not exist here. But the basis for most games tends to have some overlap. The way Sephiroth says it, she's pretty sure he doesn't just mean he knows no games with these cards.

This man... ]

Seriously. How did you ever have fun before meeting me?

Very well. Pay attention...

[ And she begins to lay out the cards, going over a couple of simple games they can start with. And some to work the drinking in with later too. ]

Edited 2022-07-21 07:09 (UTC)

Are you alright? I haven't seen you....

[ Since a disastrous memory swap in the streets? Since days after that when Alina tried to follow Ciri's normal schedule without being too obvious? Well, she's obvious now. ]

Lately. I haven't seen you in the city.

[ Alina may have already had a hard time trying to keep track of Ciri, considering she disappeared into the desert for about a week without coming home after the first couple days of the memory swapping nonsense. After that, she was back to her usual strange hours and wandering, going back and forth between the city and riding out to complete jobs. But Alina's right that she's vanished again, and this time so has Jaskier. The apartment they share above the bakery is empty for now.

Alina's message reaches Ciri when she's already in Aquila, and already absolutely sloshed. ]

I'm great! I'm at sea!

I mean, I'm visiting the sea. On the shore. Not in the water. I was in the water earlier, but not on a boat.

[ Oh no. Hold on. Trying to rein in her scattered brain cells. ]

Please don't tell me something is wrong?

[ Ah, well that's a relief that all is well with Ciri. She doesn't suppose Ciri really owes anything to her to keep her aware of her comings of goings, but confirmation of it stings.

Guilt digs itself a little bit deeper into Alina's chest. She is well aware that she's playing the hypocrite today. ]

No. No, nothing is wrong. I just wasn't sure what to think when you were gone. Jaskier too. I was just worried.

Aww, you missed me.

[ It's probably a good thing Ciri's in such a good mood (and rather drunk), so she doesn't immediately get annoyed or point out that Alina ran off in a much worse fashion on her months prior. ]

Jaskier is here too. We went to Aquila. It's nice. Julie and Nadine and Jaskier and me. They got me a cake for my birthday. Strawberry.

[ Guilty again, although this warms her chest a bit instead of making her veins run cold. ]

That sounds lovely. I would have gotten you something if I knew it was your birthday.

I didn't tell them. Jaskier did.

It's all right. I wasn't expecting it.

[ She means she wasn't expecting it from anyone, in fact, not just Alina. ]

I can tell he's tricky like that.

I'm glad you got to do something special.

[He is used to running across Ciri now and again, even if their meetings are brief and in passing. But it is always anchoring to see a familiar face, one of the very few he should call a friend within the Free Cities, and perhaps that's all the more reason why he begins to worry when he doesn't come across her for an unusual amount of time.

Sephiroth considers if he should send her message to check on her. He then considers if she would appreciate it or find it grating, as though he is owed an explanation for her departure. What business is it of his?

And yet he worries; it gnaws at him. He thinks of Cloud's disappearance, and if the same should apply in this case. Or the monsters spread across the desert, and how one job gone bad could mean the swift end of any who make their coin hunting them down. And finally, after far too much back-and-forth in his own mind, he wonders why it matters at all — he had never cared for keeping up appearances, and it is not like him to fuss over whether or not he might insult her by sending a simple message to check—

Finally, after severing all of his deliberations:]

Ciri, where are you?

[ She recognizes Sephiroth's hand, and is a little surprised he reached out. It doesn't immediately occur to her he might be worried; she thinks he's looking for her for a specific reason, of course. ]

I'll be back in the city in about a week. Do you need something?

Edited 2022-06-13 19:16 (UTC)

No.

[He writes back, plainly, and suddenly feels a bit foolish having sent this at all. But he continues, nonetheless.]

I hadn't seen you in the city. I wanted to check and make sure you didn't get yourself into trouble.

[He was worried.]

[ ...oh? So that's what it is. Ciri is a little surprised, but also a little. Flattered. Maybe that's not quite the word for it, but it does make her strangely... happy. To know that he noticed. ]

Did you miss me?

[—oh. Hm. Abort?]

You’re teasing.

I'm asking a genuine question!

I was concerned.

[ For some reason, seeing that makes her happy. Ciri chooses not to examine it too closely. ]

I'm all right.

[ A little bit of time passes, as she considers whether or not to add more. She doesn't need to. But... she wants to, Ciri realizes. She doesn't actually want to keep it from him. In fact, now that he's reached out, she thinks she'd rather like to go see him when she gets back into the city. Almost dying a few times in a row, while not new for her, still makes one kind of want to visit friends and be happy to exist. Maybe she's not quite aware of it in such obvious detail, but the desire is there, tucked away in the back of her mind; she's looking forward to being home, and to seeing certain individuals. Sephiroth is among them. ]

I took an unexpected trip. I'm heading back from Aquila now.

I'll let you know when I'm back.

Aquila again?

[And an unexpected trip, no less. He wonders at the sort of business that would bring her there, and without notice.]

More time on the beach, then?

[He kids. (But also pries a little.)]

Something like that. Maybe too much beach time, in fact.

[ She's not sure how much to say. How much she wants to share. Or rather--

It's because she wants to share that she's not sure how much. ]

Will you meet me in the Horizon?

[Too much beach time?]

Of course. Right now?

[ Maybe she is presuming too much. ]

If you've the time.

[She is definitely not presuming too much, because-]

I do. You can visit my domain, if you’re still interested. It’s a very tall building, lit up at night. Easily identifiable by the Shinra logo.

[ It's a relief. She won't admit it, though. ]

Very well. Tonight, a couple of hours after sundown. I'll look for it.

[ When it will look like she's sleeping, so as not to arouse too much suspicion and not to overburden the horses pulling the wagon, since she doesn't usually ride back there with Viktor. Once they've set up camp though, and she's checked the perimeter and made sure the horses are cared for, Ciri will let him know that she's on her way.

She's never been there before, she realizes. When it comes to the folks she often meets in Cadens in person, she rarely bothers with their Horizon, and she doesn't spend too much time there anyway. There's enough to be done outside that world.

Eventually, Ciri finds the building he means though (even if she had to figure out what a "Shinra logo" is separately). It is indeed... very tall. She waits. ]

[The Shinra building, or at least the one he's fashioned for himself in his domain, is a tall and intimidating structure, always swathed in night. There are no stars hanging above, the sky constantly clogged a faint, lurid green haze of excess Mako clinging to the heart of Midgar, but the building itself is well-lit enough to make up for it, even from the outside. It is all glass and steel and corporate shine; and yet it is also a show of military power, as armored vehicles emerge from the underground parking garage entrance at the side of the building, driving down to the nearby highway access road and disappearing at the edges of his domain, helmed by faceless drivers.

He is not so awkward a host to leave her there, waiting, nor does he leave her waiting for long. The entrance doors slide open with an automated hiss, and Sephiroth steps out to meet her. As always in this place, he opts to wear what is familiar to him -- his SOLDIER 1st class uniform, certainly unlike anything he's ever been given in Cadens, though he does not keep his old sword at his side in the Horizon. There's no need.]

You're overdue for a visit.

[Despite the starkness of their surroundings--of himself--he says it with a smile.]

[ ...what is he wearing? This, more than the rest, takes her by surprise. Her eyes linger, taking in the strange clothing, the way it covers most of him and yet reveals very specific slivers of skin here and there, the way he carries himself with straight spine and confident shoulders.

It feels good to see him. Ciri lingers in the feeling a moment, considering it. Deciding not to question. She's exhausted. She wanted to see him, and here he is. Why push for answers further than that? ]

Mm. I suppose I am.

[ She steps closer. Her own sword isn't on her right now, and her clothing is not too dissimilar to what he might be used to in Cadens: fitted trousers, a loose blouse, a wide belt and boots. Fairly simple. No armor. Even in the Horizon, she looks a little worn. ]

What kind of place is this?

[ She doesn't lead with the reason she'd wanted to see him, considering she's not entirely sure what that reason is. ]

[She looks tired, he thinks, as she nears. Sephiroth wonders if her travels have really worn on her so much, or if something had happened back in Aquila. Should he ask? Or should he tend to her questions, instead of unearthing something she may not wish to talk about at all?

Still, even as he considers this in his own head, he turns partway and tilts his gaze upwards; headquarters seems impossibly tall against the night, this close. As though it reaches upwards forever, a steel entity encroaching upon heaven itself.]

This is the main Shinra building. Headquarters. My employer, and where I live.

[Well, back on his Planet, of course; that needn't be said.]

It's empty, now. [He glances back at her, eyes glowing in the gloom.] Usually bustling with employees, but I don't see a need for that in the Horizon. Plenty of room for just the two of us. There are some rooms I want you to see.

Your... employer. [ She repeats, and it's not a question but the way she says it, it's clear she doesn't really understand. From what he's told her so far, Ciri was under the impression he was a military man, and this looks nothing like a barracks. Most people wouldn't say they were employed by the army either, though that could just be some sort of... cultural difference.

Right now, she doesn't really have the energy or the desire to ask detailed questions about his world, though. She accepts it and nods. ]

Oh? Something you want to show me? All right.

[Sephiroth would barely have the context to understand that a large corporation, in possession of a standing army, is a strange concept. On Gaia, it was the norm — the only real military force was owned by Shinra. That was the reality, for as long as he could remember. And so, no further explanation comes, though he isn’t particularly keen on lingering on the topic of the company, anyhow.]

Follow me. [He says, striding forward towards the entrance. The doors slide open as they approach.

The lobby itself is huge, with slick floors and bright lights that reflect off of every surface. It is, also, very much empty, which is how Sephiroth prefers to keep it. Yet Ciri will barely have time to appreciate the corporate-clean, straight-edged view, before a strange sound reverberates through the space. It sounds like… a wark!

Bounding down one set of stairs comes a large, fluffy-feathered bird. That on its own might be a novel sight, but its plumage is also a very… bright green?

Once it reaches the lobby floor proper, it strides over to Ciri, looking down at her and quirking its head. Sephiroth stands next to her, arms crossed.]

This is a chocobo. A green one, too.

[ Ciri has never been in a place that looks like this before. The corporate sterility means nothing to her, though the emptiness does feel a bit vast in this huge room, the echo of their steps too loud. It is, in its own way, a beautiful place though, bright and clean, floors made of some sort of semi-reflective surface that gleams darkly unlike wood or stone. She's looking around wide-eyed when the unusual noise draws Ciri's attention to the front again, and to the creature that made it.

She gasps, delighted, hands clapping once in front of her. ]

Oh! Hello!

[ It approaches!! She watches, curious, glancing up at Sephiroth for any cues before she stretches a hand out slowly like she would to greet a horse or a dog, letting it sniff her first. Do birds want to sniff your hand before being pet? She's not quite sure. ]

He's so big...

[Chocobos have a wide variety of personalities, but they are generally amiable, and Sephiroth has made of point of making this one nothing but. He nods at Ciri encouragingly, and the bright green bird warbles again then stuffs its beak straight into her hand. It closes its eyes, clearly wanting affection.]

They are impressive up-close.

[He agrees, regarding their size.]

Green chocobos are bred for their ability to traverse almost any terrain, though they aren’t very good at swimming. Not that I have ever tried to ride one across a river.

[ The big bird shoves his beak right into her hand, and Ciri giggles, giving in easily to his charms and stepping closer to provide enthusiastic scritches. She pets his beak and head, down his neck, admiring the feel of the feathers beneath her fingers. It's something unusual; she's used to petting Mog, but he's very small, and this feels very different.

Honestly, after all the stress she's been through -- petting a big fluffy animal is the perfect remedy, even if it is in the mind realm. ]

They can't fly, can they?

[ The animal has wings, but she can't tell how big they are. Chickens can barely fly, and their proportions aren't nearly as ridiculous. ]

[He shakes his head, silver hair swaying with the motion.]

No. They can't. They're too heavy for that.

[The bright green chocobo, which had been more than content to thrive under Ciri's attentions, shakes out its feathers, tilting its head at Sephiroth. It makes a trilling noise, then another wark! As if offended!

But he just glances at Ciri, taking a moment to watch her interactions with the creature. He finds himself glad that she is delighted to meet the oversized bird -- it is as though he can see it wear away at the weight of exhaustion she might be carrying on her shoulders.]

Do you want to ride him? The lobby's big enough for it.

[Since it is astoundingly empty in here.]

[ Ciri's answer is an immediate, enthusiastic: ]

Yes! Of course I do!

[ In here? Riding a giant bird inside a building is definitely a new experience for her, but... what the hell. ]

The floor's not too slippery for him? It's so shiny.

[ She asks, but she's already figuring out how to mount the chocobo. It's got a saddle, similar enough to what she's used to; she does what she always does and mounts from the left, careful not to spook the creature. The proportions, however, are all different. Balancing's going to take a new amount of effort. ]

[It's about the level of enthusiasm that he expected, but he's still all too glad to see it. Sephiroth steps forward in case she needs help mounting the chocobo, but it seems that Ciri has managed to do it without his assistance. The bird itself is patient enough, though it does shake out its feathers slightly as its new rider tries to find its balance atop its saddle.]

He's been running up and down the stairs all day. He'll be fine. Probably would enjoy the company.

[Not that Sephiroth has been foul company; he just hasn't been eager to ride the bird all through his domain. Meanwhile, the chocobo turns its head at an angle to glance at Ciri. Again, it warks brightly, awaiting command.]

When you're ready, nudge it forward with the heel of your boot. He'll know to take it slowly.

[ It is similar enough, as Sephiroth mentioned; the balance and feel of the animal are different, but the technique seems more or less the same. Ciri gathers the reins and eagerly gives the chocobo a gentle nudge. The bird squawks again, its gait bouncier than a horse's as it takes several long strides forward at an easy pace.

Ciri giggles, leading her borrowed mount around the wide lobby. ]

What's his name?

[He walks forward, stopping just short of the lobby's center, gently turning when the chocobo makes its bouncing path around the wide area to keep track.]

...His name?

[A long beat of silence. Can she see where this is going.]

I didn't think to give him one.

Whaat? That's so sad!

[ She's picking up on the rhythm of its movements quickly enough, bouncing in the saddle a bit. Honestly, she's not that surprised by Sephiroth's answer, though she does seem a bit put out. ]

Don't you name your mounts where you're from?

Yes, but that was never a responsibility of mine.

[In other words: he never had to really take care of a chocobo, never really ever had to ride one outside of basic training from years ago. That time he tumbled off of one as a child, a story he recounted to her before.

An idea sparks. He offers-]

You can name him if you want.

Can I?

[ She pulls the bird around in a circle the other way, mostly to see how well he responds to her touch. Easily enough, it seems. It really is easy to pick up for someone who's used to riding, in general. ]

Ooh, in that case...

Hmm.

He's very green, isn't he...?

[ Clearly, he needs to be called something green. What are some green things?? ]

Kale. Cucumber. Green bean. Chard.

...for some reason I got caught up on food.

Cucumber?

[Sephiroth actually laughs a little, low but reverberating so clearly in the empty space.]

Are you hungry, Ciri?

[His own mind skews towards food, now, since she's brought it up.]

If you want to name him after a vegetable, then you should name him Gyshal. Those are the greens he eats.

Edited 2022-08-06 19:05 (UTC)

[ Oops. Well... maybe. She goes a little pink, but she's laughing, shaking her head. ]

I don't know. I just thought of green foods first!

Oh, I do quite like the sound of that, though. Gyshal...

What kinds of greens are those? I've never heard of such a plant.

You pull them up by the root.

[The chocobo, while still following her directions around the lobby of Shinra's illustrious headquarters, seems to perk up everytime they say the name "Gysahl". Ciri isn't the only hungry one.]

They're like... [He seems to realize, belatedly, that it would be easier just to show her. A moment passes, willing the image into Horizon-reality, and a basket of gysahl greens appears hanging at the crook of his elbow.]

These.

[ At the sight of the basket, the chocobo lets out an excited wark! and immediately tries to go for it. A bad habit that Ciri would never encourage in her own horse (in the physical world, anyway), but that she indulges here with a laugh, loosening her grip a little on the reins and letting him bound over to poke his beak into the basket. ]

He does like those!

Can people eat them? They look like some kind of radish.

[But Sephiroth turns his body to keep the basket just out of reach, removing it from the prying beak of the chocobo-probably-to-be-named Gysahl.]

No. Wait.

[-he tells it, mildly disapproving. A military chocobo (it's in the Shinra building, after all) should show a little more restraint!

The bird trills in disappointment, but straightens and waits attentively. Sephiroth plucks a vegetable from the basket and hands it to Ciri, answering her question in the process.]

People can eat them if absolutely necessary. But chocobos prefer the taste more than humans do. Here, let him have one.

[ Sephiroth looks so taken aback by his misbehaving bird, Ciri giggles, knowing full well she is the one who should have held him back. But Gysahl (yes, that is his name now) is a good boy, and he follows instructions even if it is a bit impatiently. Keeping a tighter grip on his reins this time, Ciri reaches over to take the vegetable, making sure he doesn't turns his head and try to grab it before he's allowed.

After a few moments, she leans down and offers it in front of his beak. ]

Here you go, Gysahl. Who's a good boy?

[A well-trained chocobo, indeed, even if it does shuffle back and forth on his feet once or twice as he waits for permission to take the vegetable from Ciri’s hand. But once it’s been given, the bird gives yet one more pleased trill, and gently snaps up the root of the plant with its beak.

Down the hatch it goes!]

You should visit more often if you enjoy feeding him.

[Sephiroth comments, with vague amusement, before realizing he should latch on some kind of addendum to that — he would not wish to assume.]

If you feel like it. ...There’s not much else to do here but train.

[ ...if she enjoys feeding him, specifically?

Ciri catches Sephiroth's double-take and just laughs. She reaches down to take another vegetable for the chocobo, giving Sephiroth a knowing look. ]

All right. Maybe I will.

[If there is any way for the Singularity to display the sheer panic of Jaskier's words, it's there in the pointed tips, jagged and nearly broken.]

Please, for the love of all things, of Melitele herself, tell me you are not dead.

I know you're not dead.

But confirm it.

Please.

Now.

Jaskier? Are you awake?

No, of course not, because the moments after I sent you a message after your horse arrived with no riders and no weapon and no note and you failed to respond, I went to sleep without any disturbance in my heart.

Yes. I'm awake. Are you insane, to think I've slept a wink since then? What happened? Are you all right?

[ She is. A bit taken aback by the vehemence in his clearly agitated hand. Somehow, even in writing, he is so good at making her practically hear exactly the tone in his voice. Leave it to a poet. ]

First and foremost: I'm all right. I didn't mean to worry you. I reached out with the intention of explaining as soon as I could, but I see Nixie has beaten me to it.

Is she okay?

Was there another horse with her?

Edited 2022-06-18 08:41 (UTC)

[At least Ciri, unlike her father, has the sense to reassure Jaskier first that she is all right, instead of asking about the bloody fucking horses.

He can very much appreciate that about her.

He takes a deep breath, rubbing his temples, collapsing in a corner of their stable. He's spent far too much time making sure the horses have been getting the attention they need, possibly more than they've gotten since... since Rinwell.

Immediately he swallows that thought down. Thinking of other losses right now is not helping.]

Yes, there's two horses. Both are fine, if not a little run ragged. I've been taking care of them. I think this -- is this Viktor's cane? I'm assuming you did not leave him somewhere to die. Also, please don't tell me if you left him somewhere to die, I want to maintain positive thoughts about you.

[ Jaskier definitely doesn't mean it this way, but she is not in the mood for such quips. It stings more than he realizes. ]

Jaskier. Stop.

Stop? Stop! Don't tell me to stop! You have no idea what I've been through the last night --

[And true to form, it's not what someone else says that makes him stop. You have no idea what I've been through.

Truthfully, this is what he's such a marvel of a poet. Why one can walk in shoes he's never touched.

He doesn't know what she's been through, either. Clearly something has happened. Something not wholly devastating, but not something to come raving home about, either.]

Tell me what you need. Should I gather by the gate? Come out to find you?

[ He's been worried. She understands. In truth, she really didn't expect -- or want -- him to find out like this. She was so frantic and preoccupied with just keeping herself and Viktor alive, and then she'd been so thoroughly exhausted, she simply hadn't had the time, very literally, to think of anything else. Jaskier is the first person she's reached out to, knowing he is the only one who might actually expect her home. Having him upset with her over it really isn't helping-- and she's not in the sort of headspace to be particularly understanding about it.

She wants to tell Jaskier more, but suddenly, it feels so difficult. ]

We're still a week or so out.

Just take care of Nixie for me.

[And just like that, of course, she goes right back to being like Geralt. Jaskier rolls his eyes, but at least no one is here to witness his moment of being a little bastard. It gives him nothing to go on. No hint as to what's happened. Where she is. What happened to Viktor.

Though he has an inkling that something has. Why else would she be so cross in so few words?]

Truly? A week?

[His estimation was way off, then, or the horses had managed on their own. They must have been quite lucky or aided on the way. Not many chances to see horses traversing the sands without company.] You know you don't have to ask me.

But you better if you need anything else. Don't try to play hero unnecessarily, Ciri, even if you are one.

Accidentally ended up in Aquila. We need to find a ride back. Might be a week and a half, realistically.

[ As for the rest-- a hero, huh? She wants to scoff, but that's not the sort of thing visible through the letters they can send each other. She's in the bath while they talk, washing away the salt water and sand. Everything hurts. She doesn't feel the least bit like a hero, at all. ]

Please return Viktor's horse to the stables on Peony Street so they don't charge extra.

"Accidentally," is it?

[Even through only written word, Jaskier may yet manage to display doubt. Perhaps even a touch of sarcasm.

And luckily, he needn't more of Ciri's words to guess how she feels about that. Again, her and Geralt. Both so... obstinate.]

Yes, of course, on the double, my lady. Melitele forbid he be charged a late fee after whatever sort of shit has happened to the two of you. Love how you've your priorities in order.

Edited 2022-06-20 20:02 (UTC)

I'm only being practical. You needn't be a prick about it.

[ She's very glad Nixie came back unharmed, and that they don't have to pay for Viktor's rental getting eaten -- considering she needs to afford a whole new sword, now -- but she does wish the timing had been a little better. Naturally, after what had happened with Geralt, Jaskier has probably been very stressed out waiting for her to reach out to him, but Ciri's struggling to remain sympathetic.

She ignores his question about what she meant by accidentally. It's something that will need to be explained later, preferably when neither of them is feeling like a huge bitch. ]

Did you tell Geralt about Nixie?

[ She's figuring out how much damage control she has to do and how quickly, because she's not quite ready to talk to Geralt either. ]

Oooh. I'm sorry we can't all be stoic badasses when we've been worried sick for a day!

[You're welcome for the term from Sam, and once Sam explained it to him, he's been slipping it into his vernacular where it suits.

And here feels about appropriate.]

Of course I told him. And while I am very sorry you may get some sort of lecture from him, I was -- I was afraid, you know, when you didn't respond. I realize you were possibly not conscious, but --

I let him know. That you answered.

[And let them figure out if they'd rather message each other beyond that.]

Edited 2022-06-21 00:33 (UTC)

[ He really loves these new words people from other worlds keep teaching him, huh. Ciri sighs, and it may as well read in the text she sends. She is. So tired. ]

You needn't be sorry. I only wanted to know who you've told, who might also worry.

[ Since, apparently, there's a whole slew of people who'd worry about her now. The truth is, that's not a bad feeling. But she needs to know what kinds of questions she might need to field, and from whom, and she's hardly in the mental state for it. If Jaskier's already let Geralt know, that's enough. Ciri will reach out to him in her own time. ]

You are the first one I wrote. I didn't mean to frighten you.

[They're fitting, all right! They get straight to the heart of things!]

You know I only keep our stories between the three of us.

[For necessity, sometimes, but because Jaskier respects both Geralt's and Ciri's secrecy (now that he's in on it. Before, it was very insulting.)]

It's all right. My apologies for snapping. It's only worry and love, and I'm afraid they make a fiery mix.

I know.

Thank you.

[ On both accounts. It's a relief, and yet it doesn't really make her feel better. It'll take some time to sort through all that happened. ]

I'll keep in touch, when I can.

[He considers giving her the XOXO treatment he's been leaving Geralt, but perhaps another time. It certainly isn't the mood, and she hasn't told him near enough what he'd like.]

As you have time. If you end up needing the services, visit old Wilhelm's in Aquila. I wrote a song for his wife and he still owes me a favor. His wagons are rather nice, and he doesn't attempt small talk.

[A boon to the Witcheress right now, he imagines.]

Edited 2022-06-21 22:20 (UTC)

I could use a friendly favor from someone with a wagon, honestly. I don't think Viktor can ride back that far.

I'll use your name, see what he says.

Oh, believe me. My name will be enough.

[If there's one thing he can be confident, it's that. And the song he wrote was absolutely lovely enough that Wilhelm's one shared dinner was not a complete lump payment.]

I won't bother you longer. But leave me a message when you're arriving. I'll be home to greet you.

I will. See you soon.

[ A week is still fairly soon, when one is accustomed to traveling some distance on a regular basis. As Jaskier had assured her, this Wilhelm is quite helpful and reliable, and between that and Ciri's own connections with the apothecaries and a few other merchants, they manage to arrange a ride back and replace some of their lost supplies. Patched up as well as they can be for now, she and Viktor make the trip back, thankfully without further excitement.

After she hands Viktor off to Jayce (and receives a surprise sword for her efforts), Ciri messages Jaskier that she's in the city and heading back to their apartment. Of course, as soon as she arrives, she stops by the stable to check on Nixie, and then heads upstairs. ]

[Giving Ciri the space to concentrate on getting home is enough to keep Jaskier’s head occupied, in between growing a new batch of plants (which he pushes himself to make bloom in the desert heat – leading to far more sleeping than he meant to indulge in), and updating Geralt with new messages when he thinks to. He’s beginning to feel a bit like a wife, sometimes, taking care of their home while the big, scary Witchers run off to do their business.

Not that he minded. He had Mog for company, he could take care of Nixie. He returned Viktor’s horse and met his handsome friend Jayce, whose company he had not minded, either.

It did lead him to notice the emptiness of their home, though. The space in the loft that Rinwell had once occupied, now with a filled bookshelf. He had gone to market and bought a set of small vases, placing different flowers in each that reminded him of her – blue hydrangeas for the colors she wore, dandelions for a yellow dress she’d once donned to help sell flowers at the stand. There was also a tiny carved owl between them, perched as if a silent watcher. Next to it, Jaskier had laid a matching carving of a toad. Hector had not been a permanent resident of their home, but he had made his mark regardless.

And it was there, having pulled a book of Cadens magic from the shelf that Ciri’s message found him. Finally! He grabs the bottle of wine he’d ordered for her days ago, pretends he is not waiting somewhat anxiously for her to return by the door, like an abandoned pup. But he takes Geralt’s request quite seriously.

Look after her.

He opens the door before she can step through, rushing down to grab her in a hug.] Ciri, my dear! My prodigal girl! Are you all right? [He holds her by the shoulders, looking her over.] You and Viktor made it back with no issues?

Edited 2022-06-25 07:16 (UTC)

[ The hug is expected, and also appreciated. Ciri steps into his arms. She stays like that for a little bit, giving Jaskier a squeeze in return, until he pulls her back to take a better look, none too subtle about the way he takes stock of her appearance and double checks for injuries.

She's washed her clothes during the short stay in Aquila, mended them on the wagon roughly with some off-color thread. Her blouse has certainly seen better days, but the gashes beneath the patched-up tears and suspicious stains where not all the blood came out have healed -- thanks to both Viktor, and then Jayce. Physically, she looks to be in one piece, if travel-worn and dusty (but that's pretty much normal by now). The new sword Jayce gave her is slung on its strap around her shoulder, but naturally, she carries little else.

Ciri gives him a tired smile, and then -- perhaps giving away she's more shaken than she looks -- another hug. ]

Yes. I left Viktor with Jayce. No issues.

I'm all right. And I let Geralt know when we made it back to Cadens.

[No worse than usual. No worse than usual, so he can breathe a sigh of relief. His entire fucking life had been worry-free, now it's as if it's all he's filled with now. A truly pathetic housewife, if he must be one. But he's not going out there to fight monsters or, or -- well, whatever the fuck Viktor and Ciri went out to do. To be fair, he hadn't asked. He'd had plenty of other things (mainly: himself) on his mind.

The second hug, Jaskier truly squeezes. Kissing the top of her head, he holds her as long as she needs.

There's plenty of time to drill her with questions when she's ready. Knowing now, as knowing before, wouldn't change anything.]

Right. His burly friend. We met. More handsome, I'm afraid, than he is quick with flirtations.

[What? The guy is big and handsome. Of course Jaskier did.] Good. If he thinks anything happened to you, he'd probably lop my hands off. Which, I remind you, I do need. [Now she's back, he can more easily slip into humor than the snippy, sharp tone that carried his messages.] I got you a bottle of wine. Or, if you want to get drunk, another of mead. I assume you want to relax after that journey.

[ Ciri rests her cheek on his shoulder for a little while, feeling the last of the tension draining out of her. Finally, she pulls back, gracing Jaskier's bit of humor with a laugh. ]

Yes, I can see that. He's rather... enthusiastic. [ Jayce is a nice fellow, and she appreciates his gift and apparent undying gratitude, but as Viktor had said, he is a bit on the oblivious side.

Ciri sets her sword aside for now, shaking her head fondly at Jaskier's dramatics. It's comforting. ]

First, I need a bath. I must smell appalling.

...though I wouldn't say no to a bit of mead in the tub, come to think of it. If relaxing is the idea.

[Whew. The word enthusiastic is doing some heavy lifting on account of how understated it is. Even to someone like Jaskier! He's hardly met someone with such a mouth that runs off like his own.

He's now beginning to realize how often he does tend towards the more reserved. Like Viktor, he supposes. Oh, no. Has he truly met a man like himself?

A terrifying prospect.]

Well. I wasn't going to say anything, for one, because I'm not rude. [Only when it comes to Geralt is he.] Go on and prepare it and I can bring it in. I promise to knock.

[He pauses, then pulls her in again. Gods. She really needs to stop scaring the living shit out of him. Is Geralt like this? Is this what having any sort of responsibility for a child is like? Even if Geralt had not claimed her, Jaskier's mind had tended to the child that had grown within Pavetta. Destiny had staked her claim at that banquet, driving their lives to... an utterly bizarre place, honestly.]

I missed you, my dear. You haven't the foggiest how embarrassingly frightened I was to see Nixie alone. [His voice is soft, accompanying another squeeze. Until he gives a little cough.] All right, enough being polite. The bath is sorely needed.

[ There is no attempt to evade or resist a third hug. Ciri leans into him, closing her eyes for a few moments. Her voice comes out barely louder than a whisper, and entirely serious this time. She'd snapped at him before, preoccupied and stressed as she had been, but his genuine concern for her is just as genuinely moving; she appreciates it more than she could say. ]

I know. [ She has too good an idea, in fact, after finding Roach alone those months ago. ]

I'm here now.

[ Her eyes glimmer with suspicious dampness as she pulls away, but then she snorts and gives Jaskier a (very gentle) little shove. ]

Yes, yes, I'm eager to remedy the smell as you are. Give me a few minutes. Bring the mead.

Then, we'll talk.

[Jaskier may notice misty eyes (he's been the cause of many, after all), he won't comment on it. As much as he normally will tease her for fun, now it feels inappropriate. And honestly, he is simply overwhelmed with relief. If anything had happened... if she hadn't messaged back, and Geralt went out to look for her without him --

It doesn't matter. It didn't happen, and he is not allowing himself to linger on the worst of things.

He laughs.] Of course. Whatever you wish.

[He at least throws a towel on her head to help her along, returning to pour them both a pint of mead. He could use it himself (as if he hadn't been drinking plenty, waiting for both of them to return home.)

He knocks and waits for the assent before he enters, playing the fuller mead on a tray next to the tub. (Yes, Jaskier bathes in absolutely luxury and everyone else benefits, thank you.)] Look at you, already smelling better. [He turns around politely, his back facing her.] This talk isn't something gravely serious, is it? I'm getting something even stronger if it must be.

[ Ciri, for one, greatly appreciates Jaskier's various improvements to their bathroom situation as a whole since moving here. Julie has also made her own impression: she's taught Ciri what a bubble bath is, and since then, Ciri has managed to somehow procure some. (Nadine may or may not have been involved, in a situation that may or may not have been called alchemy by Ciri and just regular soapmaking by everyone else.)

She's in the middle of scrubbing herself down to rinse all the dirt and blood fully off before soaking in the tub when Jaskier knocks, so he is told to wait outside a little longer, but eventually, Ciri gives the go-ahead. He'll find her luxuriating in a mountain of bubbles up to her chin. As far as modesty is concerned, there's really nothing to see. And the scent has definitely gotten significantly more fragrant. ]

You can turn around. [ She reaches over to grab the cup, taking a long drink culminating in a sigh and a low groan as she sinks further into the tub. ]

Unfortunately, it's not... not serious. But it can wait, if you prefer. I'm unwilling to leave the bath for some time, though.

[Oh. Good. Modesty is important, of course, but he feels very awkward having a conversation -- especially one of import -- with his back turned. So he grabs a nearby stool and takes a seat near the tub, lifting his own pint to take a sip as he lays his legs out in front of him.]

Not not serious. What a way to put it.

[A huff. But it's mostly amused. Jaskier takes a deep breath, keeping his back straight, fingers drawing over the cold glass of his pint (Nadine taught him a lovely little trick, keeping the glasses in the icebox.)]

No, go ahead. What happened? Jayce said he healed you upon your return, but... what exactly harmed you in the first place? I have a feeling the answer isn't as simple as "bandits" or "men with bad ideas."

[ She doesn't mind; Jaskier is family, and she doesn't find it strange at all, especially considering the fact she'd really love to keep soaking and not worry about additional steps to the process at this point. They can share a drink and talk here as well as anywhere else.

Honestly, it's less embarrassing than the next thing she's going to tell him.

Ciri groans, taking a long drink and letting her head fall back against the edge of the tub to stare at the ceiling. ]

No, actually. It's very simple. It was a fucking wildcat. They're rare, but they're not even... I mean, most people wouldn't even call them monsters.

[ She pauses here, taking another drink, and sparing a glance at Jaskier as if to see if he's shaking his head at her or something. ]

But Viktor's horse spooked, and it was his first time riding. The wildcat attacked him. I hadn't noticed it.

One thing led to another, and--

I tried to portal us to safety. I suppose that's when the horses ran.

A -- [Jaskier pauses, choking on his swallow of ale.] I -- I heard you right? A wildcat?

[He can't help but laugh into his drink, which he tries to hide because it's completely inappropriate, and Ciri was hurt, and it's not really funny except --] I'm not laughing at you, I promise. I -- I only remembered I've described you as that before. A wildcat. In song only.

[Jaskier composes himself quickly, wiping a few drops of ale from his chin.]

I'm sorry. At least they ran home, I suppose. Though -- you say you tried. How far did you go? It must have been too far to retrieve the horses.

Edited 2022-07-18 07:39 (UTC)

Yes, yes. It's very funny. Get it out of your system now, you prick.

[ Said casually, as she takes a break from her story to have another drink or two. She doesn't fault him for laughing. The irony is, admittedly, amusing. After enough time has passed for her as well (and with her shoulder fully healed), Ciri can see the humor in it herself.

It's not the cat that was the problem, or the fact it had gotten a good swipe at her despite her training. Unfortunately, that would have been too simple indeed.

Ciri sets her mug back on the tray, leaning back again. This time, she sounds serious. ]

We ended up at the edge of the crater.

Jaskier. I could see the Singularity.

[Normally he would be quite insulted, by Jaskier will allow he deserves a you prick at the moment. She was still hurt! It was terrible! He'd only been expecting... more bandits, maybe? The return of the giant, angry scaled mother he and Geralt ran into? Even a dragon, maybe, from the mountains.

At least he doesn't choke on his drink this time.]

You're fucking joking. [He stares at her. The crater. Oh, he knows that crater well. He remembers it intimately, even now.] Fuck. You've never even been. How... how did you end up there? As far as I've known, they've never led anyone there again.

It would be a joke in poor taste, but unfortunately, it's worse. It's what happened.

[ She nods at his realization. No, she'd never been before. Yes, it is fucking weird, and it sets her teeth on edge. ]

I meant to portal Viktor to safety, just a few feet away. Enough to get him out of the way so I could take care of the threat.

Instead, we wound up in the middle of nowhere. Got attacked by some truly unpleasant giant bugs I've never seen before. When I saw the crater and the Singularity beyond it, I realized where we were, but I'd in no way intended it. It never would have crossed my mind.

The only thing I can think of is...

[ She hesitates, lingering on another few sips of her mead and sinking lower into the water, chin tucked in the bubbles and just the tops of her knees poking out. ]

I could feel how strong its magic was. Like a pressure, or-- a pull.

I can't help but think it wanted me there.

[ Ciri looks up at Jaskier again, searching his eyes. ]

And yes, I am aware that sounds insane.

[He's far to be the first person to claim he knows much about magic or chaos, but it feels utterly bizarre to him, as if Ciri is breaking some fine law in the physics of chaos that must exist, that she can portal so casually in the first place, of course, but moreso that she can portal to somewhere she's never been to before. (But she's done it before. He knows that.)

The Singularity is different. It's a place so... magically hostile.

At least to this sphere's natives. The Singularity is, in fact, quite the opposite to the Summoned. Far too much the opposite.

Jaskier sets his drink down between his feet.]

It isn't insane. Gods, Ciri, all the things that have happened to us -- being here in the first place -- how could it? [He pauses, rubbing his temples, sighing. No. No, he believes her. He believes her implication -- that the Singularity interfered with her portal somehow, bringing her to it.

It's terrifying. Somehow, more than anything, that this unknowable, unfathomable monolith should want her --]

You're not the first person who's told me that there's... almost a consciousness to the Singularity. That it is, in fact, very alive.

[ Ciri's head snaps up before she can take her next drink. Her brows furrow. ]

What? Has this... happened before?

[Jaskier shakes his head before she can go too far with it.]

As much as what happened to you? Not that I've ever heard of. I've been to the Singularity once myself, when Thorne dragged us out there like dogs. Perhaps Thorne still does so, but it doesn't seem that way. None of those I've spoken to from there, at least, have brought it up.

But after our trip there, there was another person in Thorne who told me something similar. A boy named Ronan. He's the first of us to touch the Singularity, as far as I know. He said things like... it was something called a ley line, where magic converges. That it is insanely powerful. That, as a magical being, he is kept alive by it. And while I can't recall too many specifics of the conversation, I do remember one thing in particular: "It wants us." I would not be surprised if... if it is one more thing in the world that wants to use your power. Perhaps that's why it pulled you there. To... see you itself.

[ Ciri listens quietly, slowly draining her cup. It didn't last as long as it probably should've; she stretches out her arm for a refill. ]

I hadn't heard of that before...

[ The boy Jaskier means, the idea that someone has communicated with the Singularity in some way. It wants us. That much seems clear, something she might have understood on some level before this, in a theoretical sense. It had brought them here, after all.

But now, having experienced the force pulling her to it directly without her permission or intent, it feels overwhelming. Terrifying. A heaviness that settles in the quiet, now that she is home an not focusing on one thing after the next just to get them safely back. ]

I think you're right.

[Ever the diligent host, even in his own home, Jaskier lifts a pitcher and refills her drink for her. Of course he had the foresight to bring extra, if she's really meant to soak.

He doesn't mind. The soaps smell heavenly, and there's a sense of ease from their being there. A feeling of home.

Jaskier sets a hand on her arm.]

You know we'll protect you from anything we can. Even a giant, ridiculous rock. [It's a ridiculous notion. What is Jaskier going to do? The most he can do is... research. Or learn better magic. But he's still no sorcerer. He's a bard.] Perhaps its intent is not a negative one. A fruitless hope, maybe, but... it is fair that if it wants something from us, from you, you will have some leg up on it.

I know, Jaskier.

[ She turns her hand to take his, giving his fingers a squeeze. ]

If it is sentient in a way we can understand, perhaps we can figure out what it wants. If it can even be defined as something positive or negative. There is a reason magic is called chaos, after all. I don't think it will be that simple.

But for now--

Well, I'm just glad to be home. And the mead is very good. Nice choice.

[He raises her hand to give an affectionate kiss to her knuckles, like a knight greeting his queen. Mostly because he likes to tease her about the princess business (especially since she upset him over the song he wrote for her. Payback!)]

Ah, I concur. It will never be that simple. Nothing truly is.

[Except, perhaps, the comfort in having her home.] Hah! Of course it is. My tastes in drink are impeccable. I had a year of tearing myself around the Continent to taste the best. [He pats her hand, leaning back to make himself comfortable. She'll bathe, and rest after, and Geralt will be home soon enough. Perhaps he can make something a little special for the three of them.] It's good to have you home once more.

[ She giggles, pulling her hand away with a little shake of her head-- amused rather than annoyed, and Jaskier should know the difference by now. ]

Oh, yes, I know. Only the finest for you. And me, of course. Geralt will drink anything.

[ Her grin widens as she settles back, and settles into the familiar banter and comfort. Geralt will be home in a couple of weeks too. Much like her, he always comes back. He has a place to come back to. ]

Mm.

[ To think of this place as such, and to feel at home in it. Despite everything, this is the place she's chosen. They've all chosen. She'll do damn near anyway to keep this little piece of the worlds they've finally carved out together, no matter what the Singularity wants with her or not. ]

Yeah. It's good to be home.

Ciri,

Thank you so much for saving Viktor's life. I cannot tell you how grateful I am. Please let me know if there is anything I can make you, free of charge, in thanks. I can do knives, swords, I actually have a prototype for a collapsible sword that's not finished but I can give you the first one, whatever you want.

I hope you are feeling okay yourself. If you aren't, I am going to be waiting for the two of you with Viktor's cane. I have magical healing abilities, if you need them.

-Jayce Talis

You do not need to thank me.

I need a sword. I'm interested in the collapsible prototype, but a regular sword is preferred, to start. I'll pay.

I know a healer, if you'd rather save your energy to use on Viktor, but I could use some assistance with my wounds. Appreciate the offer.

Where will you meet us?

I will make you a sword to use for now, and then you can tell me how you'd like an official one to be designed and commissioned. And I insist, it's on the house.

I can handle both.

I planned on being at the entrance to the city from Aquila's route so I can give Viktor his cane right away.

-Jayce Talis

All right. If you insist. I'll come by once we're in the city again, give you the specifications.

We'll see you there. I'll be in touch when we're a few hours out.

[ There's a pause, then a follow-up message eventually. ]

I didn't know you were a healer.

I've been learning here. It was my Horizon power but I've been studying full time on top of it. I got some training from other Summoned to strengthen it. I'm not an expert yet, but give me a few more months and I will be. I've been studying medicine too, I'm in classes with Nadine if you know her.

I hope to learn other magic someday, but for now healing is my only focus.

-Jayce Talis

[ Now that she's been around Viktor, she can probably guess as to why. ]

I'm friends with Nadine. She's a good healer. If you're training together, I'm sure I can rely on you to patch me up.

[ Though she suspects Nadine is going to insist on making her drink some potion or other when she gets home anyway. It's a little weird, having people be so insistent on worrying about her, but... she doesn't hate it. ]

By the way, you don't need to sign your name every time.

Oh sorry, it's instinct. I sign all my papers. Nadine is amazing, yes, she gave me advice on everything to take when I first showed up.

Just so you know, Viktor did tell me about your abilities as he explained what happened, but he made sure I understood they were private and not to be discussed with anyone else. I want to reassure you that I would never.

Sign if you want. I thought you weren't doing it on purpose. It was amusing.

[ There is a pause after the second part of his message. Of course, Viktor had to say something. She ended up telling some people her magic malfunctioned and put them in Aquila. The part about actually going to the crater, though--

She's not enthusiastic about Jayce knowing. She's not enthusiastic about Viktor having experienced it in the first place, and having to explain to him. But it is what it is, and it's clear their relationship is too close for her to ask Viktor to keep secrets from his partner. ]

I'll hold you to that, Jayce Talis.

Tell no one where we really went. To Aquila and back. That's it.

I won't, I promise. To Aquila and back.

Please don't be mad at Viktor for telling me, I was panicked and asking a lot of questions.

[ You can practically read the sigh in her writing, somehow. ]

I'm not mad at Viktor.

Okay phew. He values your friendship. He typically is very private with other people's info, but I was very worried.

[ That is something she appreciates about Viktor; he doesn't pry, and he is practical. She's pretty sure that he won't go telling others, even if ideally there'd never been anything to tell. Jayce is someone she understands a bit less, the sort of outgoing personality she's a little distrustful of on instinct (Jaskier gets a pass).

But it does take her by surprise, for some reason, that Jayce says it so bluntly. ]

Did he say something, besides explaining what happened?

That he wouldn't be alive without you, it sounds like you went through a lot to protect him. He's not used to anyone other than me putting their own safety on the line for him. It's meaningful. Not that he would say so upfront.

[ It's her fault he was in that position in the first place, so Ciri can't feel... too good about it, honestly. Of course she'd saved his life. She'd endangered it. It'd have been his blood on her hands if she hadn't managed -- so ultimately, it all feels a bit selfish and uneasy. But she doesn't bother getting into it with Jayce, whom she doesn't know that well, and who is only worried about his friend. She says, instead: ]

I made it my job to help people.

And I consider him a friend, too.

[ Jayce actually has already reached the idea that both Ciri and Viktor probably feel guilty about this; he reassured Viktor but he doesn't know Ciri well enough to jump to that conclusion openly. ]

Will you two be okay on the road back? I don't know that route at all. I've always wanted to go to Aquila.

It's a large road, well populated. Safe as it gets out here.

I travel this road frequently on jobs. There are even a couple of inns along the way. For next time.

[ Considering she and Viktor don't have coin on them, they're probably stuck sleeping on the wagon. Or at least Viktor is, and she'll be outside, but that's fine. Ciri promised the merchant to act as guard as part of their payment, so she's been staying with the wagon whenever its owners spend the night somewhere else, or drop off supplies to the inns along the route. It's honestly a very lucky arrangement they've managed, considering. ]

[ It's a relief to hear that. He knows Viktor is safe with her, she's proven it twice now, but still. They both are injured and exhausted. This means they should be fine. ]

Let me know if you need anything. I can send messages, deliver things, whatever is useful. Viktor said he'd check in with me every day but I'm at your disposal too.

Hey, listen.
I'm giving a few people a tattoo this week. It's a protection thing. Wards against demonic possession.

You'd be doing me a real solid if you'd come get one.

It wards against demonic possession?

I've never heard of such a thing.

You're certain?

Yep. Hunters back home have been using 'em for years.

So you have one too?

Sure do.

Demons are a big problem where you're from, as I understand it.

They are uncommon in my experience, and don't seem at all common here.

Why are you suggesting this now?

Couple reasons
Turns out my world's not the only one with a demon infestation problem

The douchebags over in Thorne pulled through something from my world a few weeks ago
Something bad, something evil
The way I figure it, if they're willing to grab that, it's just a matter of time before they start yanking demons in too

Better safe than sorry

What? What kind of something?

[ What the fuck, Thorne.

Honestly, he's right. It's just... The idea of it being a tattoo feels so personal, and permanent. Though the permanence is probably the draw. ]

It's uh
It's kind of hard to explain without giving you a full theology lecture on how religion works in my world

The short version is he's the original evil
He's the thing that invented demons in the first place

[ Ciri takes a few minutes to respond this time. Theology aside, she has a vague understanding by now of demons and angels in Dean's world, between what he's told her, what Geralt's managed to relay, and Julie's occasional supplementation that seems to be more or less on the same page. To her, it has nothing to do with religion, and the idea of 'original evil' sounds like a tale to frighten children, but the creature Dean is talking about doesn't have to be the one original evil to be a very old and dangerous one. There are many entities throughout the worlds; she isn't keen on getting possessed by any of them.

If this might protect her, it's probably worth it. Even if she doesn't... really want another tattoo. ]

All right.

I assume you've already told Geralt.

Yeah, that's the other thing
He flashed the whole black eyes thing at me the other day, nearly made me crap myself in the middle of a cave, so
He's humoring me and getting one too

If he's getting one as well, then

Actually, I'd like you to elaborate on "the whole black eyes thing."

What did he do?

We were balls deep in a cave checking for Geralt Junior Jrs. when this freaky giant lizard monster dropped down from the ceiling on us. Scuffle ensues, and then the next thing I know your creepy ass pops whirls around with his eyes all fully demonic. I almost chopped his head off. This is the kind of thing you warn people about if you're gonna run around waving pointy things together.

[ As per usual, it takes a minute to even parse what the fuck Dean is saying. (Creepy Ass Pops??) And then what he could possibly mean by it. ]

All right. I have several questions.

One: What are Geralt Junior Jrs?

Two: What exactly happened that scared you?

Three: Did you see him drink any potions before it happened?

1. Baby Geralt Juniors

( o b v i o u s l y )

2. Where I'm from, black eyes are almost exclusively a sign of demonic possession.

3. No. He told me about the elixir situation after the whole thing went down, apparently the big magic fuck-off rock we're all tied to gave him a fun party trick. No potions necessary.

[ Wow, okay, super helpful explanation there, Dean. ]

1. I repeat: what??

2. I'm not aware of any specific signifiers like that. Wouldn't it make them very easy to spot?

3. "Fuck-off rock" is a new one. Though I'd argue it doesn't want us to fuck off at all, but rather the opposite.

[ The Singularity has given some people the ability to do magic they wouldn't normally be able to access, or even facilitated physical changes and transformations. No more unusual than a bard being able to grow blackberry bushes at a whim. But it is still a bit... unnerving, every time someone discovers a sudden ability or change like this. She can't blame Dean for being startled (and she'll have to ask Geralt about it later, just in case Dean's leaving something out).

It also makes her wonder if she's going to discover some odd new ability one day, the thought of which is mildly anxiety-inducing. As far as Ciri's aware, the "fuck-off rock" hasn't seen fit to give her any gifts, and she's honestly okay with that. ]

1. I'm not sure what part of this you aren't getting. A couple months ago we tracked a Geralt Junior up a mountain, turns out she had a mate and a nest. We circled back to check for Junior Jrs. in case we missed any.

2. They don't always have them on display, it's something they tend to flash when they're being peak douchebag. Usually takes something to trigger them into flaring up.

3. Yeah, no, it's more like everybody else should fuck off and leave the damn thing alone.

( Here's to neither of them ever discovering any new fun gifts from the big spooky rock.

If only... )

Geralt mentioned going out looking for a nest. Some sort of avian beast.

[ She's trying to remember the actual name... if Geralt had mentioned it. He might've, in passing. It certainly was not "Geralt Junior."

Why is Dean like this. ]

You found something else there?

Bingo. That's the one.
Told that son of a bitch that since he discovered it he got to name it, but he wouldn't, so I took the liberty.

They're Geralt Juniors.

( Never mind that they actually have a name — he doesn't know what it is and Geralt hasn't corrected him. It's too late now. It stuck. )

But yeah, we found a freaky ceiling lizard dog.

Of course you did.

And the "ceiling lizard dog" is the Geralt Junior Junior, even though it's not one of the birds?

[ Dean, why are you like this. ]

That name's temporary, I don't know if it's gonna stick. It was kind of spur of the moment.

No. Too confusing.

That one's a Dean Junior, for sure.

Woah woah woah
You weren't there, you don't get naming rights

Then show me.

I'm not afraid of any Dean Junior Ceiling Dogs.

Sure would love to, but it's dead. Take it up with your pops.

Come to think of it, he might've brought home the tail.

If he took home the trophy, he gets naming rights.

But the only name he knows is "Roach," and it's for horses.

Meaning: logically, I take over naming rights, and it becomes Dean Junior.

What the hell
No friggin way
That's not how that works, you don't get to INHERIT naming rights, this isn't a friggin aristocracy

It's fine.

Geralt won't mind.

So what?! He doesn't make the rules

Who makes the rules?

I don't know, they're just
The rules
It's like physics, they just ARE
Look, if I gotta explain them to you, you obviously don't get it, so you're disqualified from the naming things council

So are they immutable laws of existence, like physics?

Or council-based, like village elders?

Keep your story straight, Dean. I'm beginning to think these rules might not exist at all!

Hardy har har, smartass
Look, the next time me and you go hunting and we run into something weird, sure, the name's all yours
But if we're calling something Dean Junior it's gonna have to be a lot more awesome than a freakin' ceiling lizard, that's all I'm saying

And here I thought it suited you.

But perhaps something like a zeugl is more like you. At least by the smell.

[ Yes. She has resorted to calling Dean stinky. It's his own fault. ]

I smell freakin delightful, you shut your face

Shut my face and pinch my nose. Good advice.

I'll go ask Geralt about the Dean Junior tail. Eager to see your legacy.

[ And get Geralt to start calling it that too, if he'll go along with it. Could be fun.

Ciri's content to let Dean yell about it a while longer if he wishes to, but she done responding for now, and feeling pretty amused about the whole thing. The part about agreeing to get that anti-possession tattoo is already practically forgotten. A problem for future Ciri to deal with. ]

I hate you

( that's it that's the end )

Hey
Any chance you could do me a favor sometime soon?
I'll owe you one

Dean? What is it?

So, uh
You know Jo and Claire
They're hunters, back home. But the kind of things we fight there are way more
people-sized
not
wagon-sized

I'm teaching 'em what I can, but fighting when you're over six feet tall is a whole different language than fighting when you're five foot nothin and a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet

You see where I'm going with this?

Yes. I see.

What kind of weapons are they familiar with?

Guns are numero uno, but obviously those aren't as readily available here as they are back home. They're both good with machetes and knives. Translates pretty decently to a short sword in a pinch. Pretty sure Jo can handle a crossbow with the best of 'em, too.

If they want to learn, I can give them some advice. Show them a few things. Up to them.

I remember when you decided to wander around the desert when you first got here.

They do. They're chomping at the bit to do a job. I'll send 'em your way. Thanks, Ciri. Seriously. I mean it.

I remember wandering out with Cas, in over our goddamn heads, watching you ride a pair of Chaigon like a freakin' murder circus, that's what I remember.

If either of them refuses to listen or rushes out there on their own anyway, I take no responsibility.

[ If they're hunters like Dean, they should have some sense. At least some training. But Ciri's not signing up to babysit anyone. ]

Only time I ever ran into two of them at once. Maybe it was your luck.

At least your learned quick enough.

Yeah, no, I get that. Don't sweat it.

I don't know Claire as well as I know Jo, but she seems sharp. Strong.

Jo's talented as hell, she'll take to it like a fish to water, I can tell you that much.

[ Talent is only a part of it. She can be talented as hell, but if she's too stubborn to listen to Ciri's expertise, the result is the same. Ciri doesn't know either Jo or Claire very well yet, but if Dean is asking her this favor-- she's willing to give them a chance. ]

They plan on making a living hunting monsters too?

Unless I manage to pull off a god damn miracle and convince them to go back to college or bartend or something, but considering how well that's been going so far I'm not holding my breath.

You want me to train my own competition.

I should charge.

They're not going solo, at least not for a while. I'm taking them with me for a few months at least, so they're gonna end up splitting my pay-out, don't worry.

But I'll pay you in iTunes gift cards if you're feeling froggy.

I don't know what any of that means. Or what it has to do with frogs.

It was a joke, Dean. Plenty of beasts in the desert.

Glad to know you'll take them along, though.

[ Safer that way; she was going to ask if Dean expected her to take them alongside her own hunts, which she was less enthusiastic about. ]

Remind me the next time you swing by the Roadhouse. I'll give you an iPod. You can thank me later.

( But yes, he'll be taking them with him. It's not that he doesn't trust Ciri to keep them safe, he would, he just trusts himself more — rather, he considers it his own responsibility. If they went out with her or by themselves (or through some bizarre act of God, they wound up going out with Geralt somehow) he'd worry every minute until he had his own two eyes on them again. )

[ it takes yennefer twenty-four hours before she regains consciousness, and it's a few hours after that before she's able to find enough time and space to feel like she can. her first message is to jaskier, if only because she had known he was a fellow delegate. had most likely been targeted as well, whether or not the attempted assassination had been meant just for her. but it is very soon after that she reaches out to ciri, just to be certain. ]

Ciri- are you alright?

[ Ciri's been waiting. On news, more than Yennefer, herself. But when the message comes, it still startles her.

She answers right away. Even in her mind, the words are hurried, the script tight and messy. ]

Yes, fine.

Tell me how you are

I'm alright.
The worst came from the backfired protection spell than the poison.
But there are enough decently adequate healers in Thorne, I'll be fine.

[ yennefer wants to ask about libertas, wants to ask about how fine ciri really is, but she can tell when she won't get much from ciri (it's the same with geralt, isn't it? when to push, when to ask, when it won't be worth the effort). ]

I've spoken with Jaskier- but have you had a chance to see him yet?

[ ...poison too? Shit. Someone really was trying their best to slaughter all of the delegates, probably to start exactly the sort of conflict that has since arisen. All it needed was a spark, and someone set the whole fucking haybale aflame. ]

Yes. Briefly. He's being taken care of.

And guarded. By the city, as well.

[ She means as opposed to just by herself and Geralt, which is also true. ]

Are you being watched too?

[ starting a fire is exactly the way to put it - with how uncontrollable the reactions will be, dangerous and bright and heated. yennefer knows enough about the queen to know how she'll react.

still, there is so much more actively at play that even yennefer isn't aware of yet. her focus upon waking, upon seeing what the queen's wrath had caused, had been checking in. with jaskier first, if only because he had been the last she had seen before her meeting, and now ciri.

yennefer does not know exactly what she is looking for when she asks after jaskier, as if making sure that there wasn't anything more that jaskier hadn't mentioned, as if it could have been worse than it was. to hear that he's being guarded is both a relief and also a worry, but so is the way of things in war. ]

Yes- I'm being kept in the infirmary now, with a steady stream of concerned mages.

[ ciri can probably feel how unhappy yennefer is with the situation, but that will probably say quite a bit in and of itself. that she is still here, even though she doesn't want to be. ]

Edited 2022-09-13 13:21 (UTC)

[ Yennefer can be unhappy about it all she wants, but Ciri is relieved to know she's being cared for. Not that it was something she'd doubted, considering Yennefer's worked hard to make herself a part of that court. She has a position there, and influence, on top of being one of the Summoned. No, she is too much of an asset to simply ignore.

It might be part of why she was targeted, even, though Ciri doesn't think it has much to do with the individuals since all of them were attacked.

In any case. She will be healed and probably guarded like Jaskier, and maybe after that, she'll be watched increasingly too. Maybe they all will be. ]

Can I see you?

[ If she's in a sickbed, even surrounded by others she can probably just feign sleep. But Ciri will understand if she's not comfortable with it. ]

[ ciri will be unhappy to learn, if she ever does, just how much of this care and attention yennefer outright turns away as the days drag on. for now, though, yennefer does have the feeling that ciri wants to know that she is alright, and that is the information she shares. yennefer has worked herself into a place of reknown, of influence, though her place within the court is hardly what did her in, in the end.

the question comes as...not a surprise, necessarily, but a welcome request. something that, if only for a moment, does make yennefer feel needed. she is quick to respond. ]

Of course.

My place.

[ She's already home, so it's easy enough to simply slip into her room and then into the Horizon. She waits anxiously in front of her cottage on the outskirts of Kaer Morhen's training grounds. ]

[ yennefer does not bother confirming she will be there, does not put in the effort to send the mental message. instead, she yells at another mage, tells them all she's exhausted by their presence, that she wants them out and gone, and it's only when her room is emptied and she's settled back into her supposed sleep that yennefer lets herself fall back into it.

there are no, actual, clues as to her state of being by the time she steps through ciri's door in the horizon, but there is a kind of harried nature to her. like she was too tired, or perhaps a spill over of her own exhaustion, that she could not seem to bring herself completely upright. completely together again.

but she is here, turning immediately to ciri as soon as she catches sight of her, the smile more relieved than she was really expecting to feel. ]

Ciri-

[ As soon as Yennefer approaches, Ciri is turning toward her. Their eyes meet for a moment -- Yennefer's tired, face drawn even here, and Ciri's lined with worry and furrowed brow. She steps forward hurriedly, without a word, arms out.

They embrace, and Ciri holds her longer than usual, and tighter. ]

[ it's the worry in ciri's face that settles it, that when they embrace, yennefer's arms around her would be just as tight if not for the slight tremor, the echoes of her own soreness coming through. it's a very small break in her image, the slightest clue into the reality of where she is, back in her bed in the infirmary.

she will not be the one to pull away, though, so if ciri wants it they can just stay right here for the next however long. ]

[ After a bit, when she feels somewhat assured that Yennefer is in one piece (even if it is the Horizon and she's covered up any real injuries), Ciri pulls away. Her hands linger in Yennefer's a moment longer, gaze searching those violet eyes. ]

I'm so glad to see you.

[ as ciri pulls away, yennefer does not pull back far herself, her own hands lingering on ciri's shoulders. she can tell ciri is looking for something, probably some kind of truth about all of this hidden under yen's facade.

part of yennefer wonders, suddenly, if it would be so bad that ciri sees it. another doesn't know if she has the energy to. so for now, yennefer gives ciri that small smile, squeezes ciri's arms where her own hands haven't left. ]

I would have reached out sooner, but I've only just been able to.

Hey
What's shakin, Hannah Montana?

Is that meant to be a question addressed to me, or are you having a stroke?

Shut up
I'm gonna take that to mean you're doing peachy keen. Great. Glad to hear it. Moving on.

What's the status on the training with Jo? How's that going?

We're on the road. If peachy keen means somewhat sunburnt and a bit bored, then that's what I am.

[ She definitely didn't personally tell Dean where she was going, but Ciri sort of assumes he's heard it from someone. If not, then. Oh well. Surprise. ]

You'll have to be more specific. Why do you ask?

Yeah, that sounds like the life of a peach

She wants to go out on a hunt
Trying to decide if she's ready

That depends entirely on what you're planning to go after.

You stick near the city, should be fine. Nothing too dangerous. Except basilisks at night.

She "wants" to go? What for? Restless, wants to prove herself?

Definitely ain't about proving herself. Never seen her need to prove herself to anybody, she sure as hell ain't about to start with me.

Restlessness is a part of it.
Mostly it's just

She's a hunter
That's what she does

[ Well, that's a bit of a relief, if Dean's supposition is correct. If Jo's not itching to prove something to somebody, then she's less likely to try to bite off more than she can chew first thing. Restlessness and feeling purposeless are both good drivers, but in Ciri's opinion, less dangerous ones. ]

I understand.

If you're asking my honest opinion, I don't think she should go alone. But I'd say that for nearly anyone.

And she definitely needs a better sword, if it's to be her main weapon. I'm not convinced it should be. Crossbow's not a bad choice for most monsters - given, of course, that your aim is good.

Yeah, no, her going alone's out of the question. I'm going with her.

I appreciate the advice. It's a good call. I'll look into a few things for her, see what I can come up with.

Watch your backs out there.

Bandits have gotten bolder.

Hey speaking of which
where the hell have you been, anyway? what, are you out there chasing bandits or something?

Not this time.

Got asked to escort a supply transport picking up goods from Solvunn. It'll be a few weeks.

Huh.
Well, be careful.
You need anything, call.

[ ...is he worried about her?? She's not sure if it's annoying or sweet. Maybe both.

Also funny, considering she's weeks out on horseback so whether or not she needs anything and calls, it's not like he could do much, but the sentiment is still appreciated. ]

I'm always careful.

You're worse than Geralt.

[ He's not. Geralt just manages it with fewer words. ]

( Him?? Worried??

Never. Not even once. How dare you imply. )

I'll take that as a compliment.

I expect to find both of you with all limbs still attached and no more buildings collapsed on anyone when I get back.

Behave.

Always do.

[It's been some time since they met at Nocwich, but Ciri had left quite an impression on Petra— enough so that she had been actively relieved to hear that Claude would be traveling with her during that supply run of theirs.

Of course, he'd dropped a few other details later on that had made her feel somewhat less secure.]

I have been hearing something about a monster in a ravine! Claude insists you are all safe, but he is having a habit of skipping over things sometimes. I thought I would be asking you directly. Are you and the rest of your party okay?

[ Ciri doesn't recognize the handwriting that unfurls across the side of a large rock she's sitting near. She does, however, recognize the unique speech pattern. ]

Petra.

Yes, we're all still in one piece. You needn't worry about that. Claude was telling the truth.

You're concerned about him.

Edited 2022-10-08 08:05 (UTC)

[Someday, she'll learn that she should probably sign her thought-notes.]

I am glad to hear it. It sounded like it was being a very fearsome beast you had come across.

I am worried about him, and the rest of your party. Of course, I am being worried about friends, but if he mentioned it at all, that means it was significant, even if he was pretending otherwise.

Claude has his own way of telling the truth. It was hard not to be questioning. This world is still being new to me, and your journey is sounding perilous.

[ Has his own way of telling the truth, huh. That's amusing. Ciri knows what she means, though. ]

It turned out to be an annoyance more than anything else. Cost us a bit of time, but we're making up for it.

Don't worry, Petra. I'm here to make sure the rest of the boneheads don't do anything too stupid. Claude included.

I've made trips like this a dozen times before. I know what lives out here and how to fight it.

[Ah, yes. They have that in common— Petra is also frequently in the position of looking after her companions.]

I am not surprised to be hearing that. When we met, you were having the air of a capable warrior with a good head on her shoulders. I know your team is in very good hands.

Hopefully, I will get to be seeing you in action sometime myself.

[ Even in the marketplace? Ciri is amused by this, and a little charmed. (Flattery might work on her, just a bit.) ]

I do what I can.

We'll be back soon. There's nothing to fret over.

[She has an eye for these things!]

I will be taking your word for it. Travel safely, Ciri. If I can do anything for you in the city while you are gone, please be letting me know.

(( cont'd from here, during Event #10 ))

[ Immediately, she chases after him to close the space between them, breathless herself and uncaring. Everything else has fled her mind. The want beats against the inside of her ribs, fills her head with only the thought of closeness, the desire to wrap herself in this feeling so deeply it would be impossible to forget it again.

The noise she makes at his words is almost a scoff, a little growl as she grabs him again to wrap her arms around his neck. ]

Then don't.

[ No more waiting. Ciri leans in, on a whim, to kiss his cheek where she'd scratched it. She runs her tongue along the cut on an animal instinct, and shifts her hips to slot his thigh between hers, grinding down on him. ]

[Her tongue trails against the cut across his cheekbone, probably picking up a tang of copper along the way, and there is just something about the pure indulgence of it that heats his thoughts, makes him want in the same way she wants him. An echo chamber, compounding itself again and again.

He wants closer. He wants to taste more than just her mouth, he wants to—

She braces against him, grinding down, and Sephiroth lets loose a shuddering exhale. Instinct overrides everything, then, that threshold finally crossed, and his hands rove upwards, bolder than before. They stop just beneath the curve of her breasts, dissatisfied with how his gloves dull the sensation of her skin against his fingers.

With a sound of impatience, he retracts his hands just long enough to pull the dark leather off, peeling them away, while he dips his head low to meet his mouth at the crook of her neck. There’s nothing shy about this kiss — she’ll even feel the line of his teeth, pressing faintly down.]

[ She likes the noise he makes, the urgency of it, the way she feels his body shudder as he exhales, all tense and laden with that pent-up need she's feeling too. Whatever else is going on around them, it no longer matters -- if the floor creaks and the walls tremble, it only feels appropriate, under the weight of all that desire bearing down, finally breaking through to spill unbuffered into physicality.

Ciri arches beneath his hands, pressing her hips harder against his with a deep inhale. The breath escapes again in faint groan of protestation when he pulls back.

But before she can actually complain or misunderstand his intentions, he wisely focuses her attention elsewhere. Hot breath on the side of her neck. Warm and wet. She shivers, and -- at the press of teeth -- moans and tips her head back and to the side to telegraph how fully she gives him permission to keep going, just like that. ]

[She’s all encouragement, every sound and movement of her, and Sephiroth isn’t keen to stop. When his teeth aren’t pressing down in an impulsive love bite, his lips fill that void, warm and indulgent and almost plush against her skin. He hums a little noise of approval; his tongue catches the faint tang of her perspiration, no doubt a consequence of their physical exertion before now.

All the while, he removes his gloves. They’re discarded, and land at his boots like dead, skinned animals. Sephiroth takes this opportunity to reach back up, emboldened enough to palm at the curves of her breasts.

He breaks the kiss just briefly enough to speak, his tone low.]

Tell me how you like to be touched, Ciri.

[ His hands are warm. She presses into them, arching her chest with a groan.

The question genuinely takes her by surprise. It is just as well that she's already lost to the urgency of their feedback loop of desire, even if she hasn't quite realized anything beyond her own impatience and long wait is affecting them -- she doesn't know how to respond, so she says the very first thing that comes to mind. ]

...harder.

More.

[Harder. More.

He can indulge her in that. It’s just an easy ask for a man who’s already so willing, ready to explore her body with an eagerness he never thought he could possess. And so, harder — he catches his lips against hers again, hungrier than before, his tongue seeking to slip into her mouth. More — one hand remains where it is, feeling, while the other dips down low to hike up her thigh next to his hip, while the rest of him pushes forward, leaving her with no recourse but to keep her back pressed against the wall.

Niggling, at the back of his mind, the realization: the height difference will be a problem.]

[ With a gasp, right into his mouth, Ciri stumbles back into the wall. Her fingers tighten on his shoulder, holding onto him when he shifts her balance and lifts her leg -- and the change in pressure and angle, his firm thigh right up against her, where she's already hot inside her leggings, makes her whimper in a way he's definitely never heard before.

Her jaw goes slack, allowing his tongue inside with no resistance, letting him kiss her this time; her own impatient pushing from before seems tempered by his newly more aggressive hold on her.

The cracked plaster behind her groans when Ciri leans more of her weight against it, but she doesn't hear. With Sephiroth's hand under her lifted thigh, she pushes herself up on the toes of her other foot, sliding higher, leveraging herself with her upper back against the wall and her other hand tangled tightly in Sephiroth's long hair. ]

[The noise she makes — no, he’s never heard it before, and it’s almost maddening how much he wishes to hear more of it. Feel more of her. With her leg hiked against him, and his own thigh in between her legs, this angle teases his mind at how well they might slot together if they were not forced to brace themselves against a cracking wall.

She lifts herself up to encourage him, and his tongue slips inside her mouth, warm, warm, seeking hers. He doesn’t realize the noise he makes, either, but it’s something low from the hollow of his throat; it’s eager, and only minutely interrupted when he feels a tug at his hair, her fingers slotting through the silver.

He decides he likes that, too.

Sephiroth presses closer into her again. The wall strains. It’s hard to tell whether patience or practicality motivates him to lift her up, then, but it doesn’t really matter. He slides his hands beneath Ciri’s backside, hoisting her up, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist.]

Somewhere to lie down. [—he manages, breathy, somewhere in between all of that. They should find somewhere to lie down.]

[ She can feel the wall bowing behind her. It's precarious, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Ciri is aware they should probably move. But she doesn't want to move. She doesn't want to be distracted. Sephiroth kisses her deeper, that low noise he makes something she can taste, something she can feel shuddering through her whole body.

When he hoists her up, there is no protest. Ciri barely moves away enough to let him speak. Her legs wrap around his waist, arms around his neck, allowing him to carry her anywhere he likes. ]

Bedroom. Down the hall.

[ Where she'd been trying to find new clothes earlier. It'd seemed clean enough, and the ceiling probably won't fall on them. ]

[Probably won’t fall on them is good enough for Sephiroth right now. It’s more promising than hoping the wall won’t completely give out under the force of their enthusiasm. And with the warm coil of Ciri’s legs wrapping around his middle, her lips just barely removed from his as he speaks (he can still taste her), the notion of keeping himself entwined with her body refuses to leave his mind and imagination. It culminates in a wave of warmth that bolts straight down between his legs.

He wastes no time, then, in carrying her to the bedroom down the hall. It’s a wonder that he manages without bumping them into anything along the way, his lips still seeking to clumsily chase hers even as he crosses the threshold into the bedroom.

Once there, he manages to lower her onto the bed — not too roughly, but a little hastily, belying a growing impatience.]

[ It's easy to get distracted; all she has to do is hold on, so she has no trouble finding time to distract him too. Luckily, he doesn't drop her. Not until they reach the bed, anyway.

Ciri lands on her back with a grunt, legs dangling over the edge, and drags him down on top of her with fingers snagging in his hair again. ]

I want you.

[ If it wasn't clear enough, she arches, further telegraphing her enthusiasm. ]

You'll have me.

[He wasn’t planning on leaving her solitary on the bed, after all. Sephiroth’s intent is just as desirous, in a way he’s never felt with anyone else before, and his knee presses down into the mattress between her legs, the rest of him brought down further as she grasps him by the hair.

His eyes rake across her form as it arches into him. Like this, it’s almost impossible to know where to start; he wants to put his hands all over her, he wants to feel skin-on-skin in a way that his blasted military uniform won’t allow.

An easy fix. Hands raise up to undo his jacket’s top button, then another, then another, while he presses a kiss just below her sternum, his chin and jawline flush against the curves of her breasts.]

[ Her nails rake over his scalp, gently, scratching and mussing his hair. ]

Mmh...

[ A shiver runs through her body, his breath tingling on her skin. The words tumble out, coming easier than they should, though she hardly notices. ]

I wanted to invite you over. After the werewolf ball didn't work out the way we'd planned. I wanted to invite you to my bed.

[ Her head falls back, eyes half-lidded, voice breathy and low. The truth spills out, and she doesn't know why she says it. It's embarrassing, heat burning in her cheeks, the flush traveling down the front of her chest beneath her collarbone. ]

I've never wanted another man like I do you.

I- I don't know why I'm telling you this.

[Where she finds it embarrassing to let this truth tumble free, the words make Sephiroth’s impatience only grow more steadily. Knowing that this could have happened between them before now is a bristling thought, isn’t it? That he could have pressed his lips against her naked skin like this, touched her with fervor he’s never experienced before. He breathes against her skin, warm and cloying.]

I want to hear it. Ciri… I want to know every little thing you imagined me doing to you. Or you doing to me.

[He doesn’t know why he’s saying this so easily, either; but he knows that he’s not ashamed of it in this moment. The way he sheds his outer jacket when he finally sits up, shrugging it off his shoulders and tossing it aside, is proof of that. His undershirt is off next, peeled away in a single, smooth motion.]

Tell me.

[ She watches him undress with rapt attention, not bothering to be subtle about the way her eyes travel down his chest and stomach when he finally bares them. When he is within reach again, she doesn't hesitate to touch, her warm palms sliding from the tops of his shoulders down his pectorals to his ribs, slowly, almost curiously, mapping his body with single-minded focus.

The warmth sinks into her fingers, shivering through her arms. It pools low in her stomach, and she lifts her outside leg to press her inner thigh against his, where he's propped his knee on the edge of the bed between hers. ]

I want--

[ She hesitates, but something pushes her despite the uncertainty. Her face is so hot now, heart pounding like hooves at a gallop in her head. But the truth comes out anyway, whether or not she stops to figure out how best to voice it. The desire crashes through her, impossible to ignore, and she bites her lip and stifles a moan when she squeezes his thigh between hers. ]

I want to feel your mouth on me. And your hands. I want your fingers in me. I want you to kiss me again. I want--

[ Breathlessly, the words tumble over one another, her voice shaking. She wants what Julie had described, how happy she'd seemed, the way she'd described losing yourself in someone else so they'd take care of you. She wants to feel that way completely, without second-guessing afterward, without fear and desperation, without grief. ]

I want you to make me feel safe.

[Sephiroth remains hyperaware of her fingertips trailing across his upper half, tracing planes of muscle. Like a second sense thrumming in the background as he listens to her desires, imagines every notion in his mind, eyes fixed on her face.

Her thigh lifts, drags slight friction against his own, teases a little too high (not high enough) between his legs for him to hold back a low moan. It escapes him, low and rumbling in his chest, likely felt by Ciri’s questing touch.

I want you to make me feel safe.

And then his chest constricts in a not entirely unpleasant way. It feels like an expression of trust as much as it is an invitation to truly lose themselves in one another, and his gaze trails over her form again, almost arrested by the sight paired with the sentiment. Can he give her that? He would be a fool not to try.]

Then one thing at a time.

[A kiss. That much is so, so easy, and just as tantalizing as the rest. He leans in again, catching her lips against his, though his hands snake behind her back to seek the clasp of her bra.]

[ She arches up when he slips a hand beneath her, and if he can't get it easily, she'll twist an arm around to help, impatient. But it doesn't distract her from kissing back, eager and inviting, mouth open against his.

As Ciri lets him lead, she seems to grow more relaxed, warm and pliant under his fingers.

She pulls back only enough to get rid of her bra entirely once it's undone, and lies back onto the bed with a soft thump and a sigh, arms bent and loosely up above her head. Through lowered lashes, she meets his eyes again, a little shy, watching his face to see if he likes to view. ]

Edited 2022-11-30 06:07 (UTC)

[He would have to be utterly mad not to enjoy the view, and Sephiroth is sure to indulge himself in it once her bra’s removed, severing their kiss and sitting up to let his eyes trail across every contour she presents him. Along the line of her arms, the slope of her neck, her collarbones, and of course, the curve of her breasts.

And finally, back up again to meet her gaze. She looks almost demure, a sight that brings a flush to even Sephiroth’s pale complexion.]

Beautiful. [It slips out unbidden, but all the more earnest because of it. He leans in again, bare hands starting at her torso, sliding up slowly until his palms cup flush against her breasts. Gently. Experimentally, for now.

His face tilts down to take in the sight, his long bangs tickling at her skin.]

But like this, you’re maddening, Ciri.

[ A heavy breath escapes her at his touch. That single word is like lightning in her veins, a shudder and a spark, curling hot inside her belly. It's not just a compliment. The way he says it, like he can't help himself, it makes her feel it too. Beautiful. The embarrassment is strange and warm, the sort that makes her want to squirm, but doesn't actually make her want to hide.

His hands are warm. For some reason, it's surprising.

Ciri draws her lower lip between her teeth, anxiously running the tip of her tongue against the familiar scar on one side without thinking about it.

There are no words in her head, only the steady thrum of her heartbeat and the complete lack of knowing how to react, thoughts half-forming before they melt away in anticipation of his next touch. ]

What... do you want?

[ She'd answered his question. She wants to hear it now. ]

[His own words slip out easily. There is no consideration behind them, no more filter that Sephiroth usually keeps bulwarked between himself and the outside world — not now. He says only what he wants, the first few things that come to mind, or notions he’d only quietly humored, kept to himself and tucked away in a solitary corner of his mind since the night they danced and kissed.]

I want to touch you, just like this.

[His thumbs graze across her nipples, teasing at them. He hums a sound of low contentment again, resists the urge to bite down at his lower lip.]

To put my fingers inside of you, too, as you said. And for my mouth to follow everywhere I’ve touched.

[Would she want that? For his lips to be just as exploratory as his fingers?]

Would you like that?

[ She twitches, mouth falling open, her chest rising with the deep inhale. Her nipples perk up beneath his coaxing touch, soft pink against her skin, paler beneath the places where her clothes always cover her body. Despite her time in the sun since coming to the Free Cities, Ciri hasn't tanned much visibly, but if he looks closely, he'll see the transition, just noticeable. The blush makes her freckles stand out more, scattered over the top of her chest above her breasts, a dusting on each shoulder. ]

Please. [ she breathes, leaving no doubt she'd like that very much. ]

[He notices, of course. Where she is paler, contrasted against where her skin has seen the sun. Where every freckle lies dusted across her shoulders, small details that seem all but impossible to not fixate upon when they’re so fresh in his eyes.

He wants to commit it to memory. Wants to be able to recall this moment long after it’s over. He looks at her—please, she tells him, and that sends a warm thrill careening down into his lower belly yet again.

Sephiroth certainly won’t make her beg for it.

He dips down, planting kisses right below the collarbone, trailing lower. Again and again, until his mouth hovers just above the bud of a nipple and he, too, seals his lips around it — kissing gently, first. Tongue laving in a warm press.]

[ Her arms lift just enough so she can slide her hands into his hair, following the way he moves downward. The tickle of warm breath against her skin coaxes little goosebumps in its wake, and Ciri shivers, the low moan catching in her throat.

Her blunt nails press into his scalp. The small of her back arches, thighs squeezing around either side of his leg where she's still keeping him trapped. ]

[He can’t see how her body contours into a longer line when she raises her arms, but he can feel her moving beneath him all the same — the way her thighs grip him, and the warmth radiating above. Sephiroth shifts in turn, raising his thigh up, brushing against the apex between her legs.

All the while, his mouth becomes less teasing and more purposeful. His tongue moves in little circles around her nipple, and eventually, the line of his teeth nip with just enough pressure to tease out a response.]

[ That gets a stronger reaction out of her, the pressure between her legs and that of his teeth on her breast. Ciri gasps, just barely voiced, a high noise caught in her throat. Her fingers tighten in his hair, but she's not pulling him away in the slightest -- encouraging, even.

She arches again, digs her heel into the side of the bed for leverage, and grinds down on him, squeezing with her thighs. ]

...harder.

[ It comes out breathy, more plea than command. ]

Touch me... more.

[Her fingers crook tighter into his scalp, encouragement that he’d be remiss to ignore, never mind the fact that he rather likes the sensation. His teeth pinch down a little harder, his hands want to wander elsewhere — Touch me more, she says, and Sephiroth only wants to comply.

Again, his leg rucks up harder between her legs, but then eases back in what leeway her grasp allows him. Sephiroth slips a hand between them, cupping at her, feeling the warmth rising, frustratingly blocked by a layer of cloth.

But it’s nice to know the contour and heat of her beneath his fingertips. His other hand braces at her hip, thumbing at the band of her pants. The question is not spoken, but so very easily implied — Off?]

[ She hisses, pulling her lower lip between her teeth, trembling under his touch. Her hips roll up, a shaky breath escaping in a grunt. ]

You don't know... how buttons work?

[ It's difficult to tell if she's teasing or annoyed, when she reaches down to yank at the front of her high-waisted trousers, buttoned up the front. It doesn't seem to occur to her he's asking for permission, though later, when she can think more clearly, she'll probably appreciate it. ]

[Even now, her quip—whether sincere or joking—still manages to amuse him a little. Sephiroth arches a brow despite everything, his mouth curved into a smile; yes, that was an ask for permission rather than a showing of incompetence when it comes to unbuttoning a garment. But he’ll not argue the point once she has the front of her trousers unbuttoned or otherwise loosened enough for him to slip long fingers down the open vee. Maybe slipping his touch right beneath her undergarments, seeking the warmth and slickness between her legs, will ease her impatience.

That, or stoke a fire in them both, already running hot.]

I hope you can give me more credit than that, Ciri.

[ Yes, that does seem to curb the sharpness of her tongue. Even asking for it, she seems somehow surprised, like the touch is unexpected. Like she didn't quite know what would happen, or didn't think he'd give it to her with so little in the way of demanding or pleading.

His fingers are comparatively cool against the eager heat of her skin, send a shiver through her with an accompanying, barely-voiced gasp, and a toss of her head. Her eyes slide shut. ]

Say my name again. [ It tumbles out, before she's even realizing she said it aloud, only a whisper. ]

[A request like that has him swallowing down a low sound of accedence, as though that might dull the reaction it sends through his body, a flare of anticipation. The sight of her throwing her head back like that, the line of her jaw, it makes him want to press his lips along that contour again and again. But the desire to see her reaction wins out, only barely, and he keeps his gaze fixed on Ciri from above as he eases his fingers into movement. Slow, experimental -- or maybe via a more impatient lens: teasing.

She's slick, and warm against his touch. Sephiroth slides the whole length of the underside of one finger against her folds.]

Ciri.

[His tone has some gravel to it, now.]

You're perfect like this, Ciri.

[ Her breath catches, stuck in her throat for a few moments before she remembers to exhale in a shaky moan. She's getting used to it still, the feeling of someone else's touch -- it's been some time.

The way he says her name convinces her more than the sensation even, feels more intimate somehow than his touch. The low rasp of his voice is a spark through her whole body, a caress that sends a shiver through her limbs.

Ciri rolls her hips into his hand with another throaty whimper. ]

Y-you can keep going... [ she suggests, almost pleads, but it isn't a command. There is a want in her voice, verging on desperation, quivering anticipation in each movement. She melts under his touch, lets him lead in a way he might not be used to from her. This is uncharted territory, and she lets him forge his path, to see what he will do. Not sure quite yet what she wants, except more, of him and of this and hearing him want her. ]

[She will have that in spades, his want for her. It overrides even his own impatience making him feel constrained and too-warm in his own trousers, just background noise to the way he watches her reaction, listens to the sounds she makes. Sephiroth only dimly realizes the he wishes to please her more than anything else; but his instinct and body fills in those empty spaces between, moving at her encouragement.

In this case, it means moving his fingers with a little more enthusiasm, just a little more pressure, drawing his touch up higher to graze against her clit. But she appears to react to his voice, too, and he finds the words spilling out without really thinking about them.]

Do you want my fingers inside you? Do you want my mouth? Or do you like this?

[He draws his touch in little circles now, never mind if this hinders a reply.]

[ Her hips twitch, and shudder when he focuses there. Voice thick with desire, she answers breathlessly, embarrassment giving way increasingly to need. ]

All of it.

[ She blurts out without thinking, before her brain seems to catch up at least a little with her tongue. ]

I want-- to feel your mouth on me.

[ If that's an option, if he's really asking her to choose-- ]

[He could give her all of it. Spend time moving from one to the other, making certain she’s satisfied with it all in the interim — but maybe, at this point, taking too much time is just torturous for them both. The increasing need flares in parallel, she chooses, and Sephiroth obliges.

His hand moves from between her legs, but only so far as to deal with her trousers, easing them down her body until they’ll no longer be in the way. When she’s exposed to him, he shifts down to give himself room, but then dips lower to kiss at an inside thigh as he encourages her to part her legs for him. She feels warm beneath his lips.]

Like this?

[(No, he knows not completely like this. His mouth will end up elsewhere.)]

[ Ciri may have forgotten about her clothing, and his tugging at her trousers suddenly reminds her she's still partially trapped by them. It's only a few moments to help him peel them the rest of the way down her legs, where he'll have to do a little more tugging and fenagling to get them untucked from her boots, which she doesn't bother kicking off. Ciri scoots up a bit further on the bed, letting her legs continue to dangle off the side but giving him more room. Spreading her thighs with a shiver of anticipation to let him get between them.

It's a little cold -- it is still winter, even in the desert -- but despite the goosebumps prickling her thighs, she doesn't seem to notice. It might be more excitement than the chill. Almost certainly is, when his lips touch the inside of her thigh, and she shivers again, entranced by the feeling.

Her face, at least, is hot enough. Probably, it's a good thing they're being pushed along at least a little, even if she hasn't fully realized the effects -- or the feeling of being suddenly so bare like this, somewhere entirely strange, would be a little more alarming. As it is, she can't find the will to care more than a mild flutter of embarrassment, the sort that's on the same side as excitement more than shame. ]

Mm-hm. That... feels good. [ Ciri mumbles, encouraging, without demanding more yet.

Her legs splay wider, knees lifted, and she balances the heels of her boots on the very edge of the mattress.

Sephiroth will find her thighs and lower legs slashed with old scars, and perhaps a few newer ones. Long stripes from blades, in various severity. Jagged, raised marks from claws and teeth.

And high on the inside of her left thigh, a tattoo of a single red rose. ]

[Without the little push that bolsters them to a certain degree, too much awareness would sink in. The foreign space, belonging to people they don’t know; the situation just outside. Sephiroth’s willingness to explore her body in ways belying a confidence that wouldn’t be present otherwise.

But they can overthink it later. He certainly isn’t overthinking it now. After finagling off her trousers (the boots remain), after the kiss plush against her thigh, he takes in the sight she’s displaying to him. The scars that tell stories he’s not privy to, marked against her skin, some that look newer than others.

And, of course, the marking of a rose tattoo on her inner left thigh more poignant than the rest. Sephiroth can’t help himself — he draws the pad of his thumb against the design.]

And what's this?

[ She doesn't have to look to know what he means, when he touches it and she remembers what is there. So few have seen it, let alone touched it, since--

Ciri lets out a soft noise, this time not of pleasure. An uncertain, shaky breath, just barely voiced. ]

A memory.

[ She moves her leg, not quite away, but perhaps in a small attempt to pull his attention from it for now. Before the uncertainty can take hold fully, Ciri reaches down to brush her fingertips against his hair. Keep herself in the moment. ]

I don't want to think about the past when you're here with me now.

Edited 2023-01-18 22:16 (UTC)

[He's not so curious that the signs of her reticence go unnoticed. Though it means that there's a story behind the tattoo—a someone more than a something, he wonders?—the way she subtly shifts her leg away, her fingers redirecting focus and sensation into his hair, is more than enough to shelve the conversation for now. If it’s a memory she ever wishes to share.

He hums in accedence, moving his hand away, sliding it up to rest on her hip. Instead, he turns his head to place a kiss on the opposite thigh, then rests his cheek against the warmth of her skin, just feeling her fingertips for now.]

Only the present, then. No memories for now.

[ Any worry she had that he might push, or maybe even lose interest, dissipates immediately with the surety of his response, the way he redirects his attention. Ciri breathes out, relaxing again and only then realizing how tense her chest had felt.

Her fingers brush through his hair, nails scratching gently. ]

Yes. That sounds very good.

[He takes only a moment longer to enjoy the sensation of her nails, wondering vaguely what it might feel like to have her grip his hair a little tighter--

But, well. Maybe he'll know sooner rather than later. For now, he dips his head up, gazes at her from this angle, and shifts forward just enough to graze his lips more against her inside thigh, perilously close to that heated spot between her legs.

Yet he's already slowed them down, and that impatience is burgeoning again, telling him that he doesn't want to make either of them wait for much longer. He brings his mouth against her folds, at first kissing as though he was kissing her thigh just a moment ago. His tongue laves, though, a half-moment later, seeking to taste her.]

Mmh--

[ Ciri makes a muffled noise, biting her lip. Her head falls back again, eyes closed; her knees and thighs open wider.

The feeling of him between her legs makes her heart race, that warmth of his breath when he nears raising goosebumps along her inner thighs. She shivers, and gasps again when his tongue follows, soft and slick and hot. He'll find her already wet for him, flushed a dark pink.

The heat travels up, fills her belly, floods her face. That vulnerable, exposed feeling is almost too much, embarrassing and a little scary, but exciting too. ]

Edited 2023-01-25 21:45 (UTC)

[She’s already so wet, and that excites him, too. Sephiroth hums a sound of approval, one she would feel as much as hear, and he can only assume the fact she’s splaying herself wider for him is an urging for more.

He slides his arms beneath the arch of her legs, whatever leeway she gives him, so he can touch, too. Fingers moving up her sides, caressing in-time with the movement of his mouth — another long, lingering kiss, then the trail of his tongue moving up just a bit higher.

One more, pressing plush against the bud of her clit. It’s light, wanting to tease and gauge her reaction more than anything else for now.]

[ When she realizes what he wants, Ciri lifts her hips slightly, just enough to allow him to get his arms under her legs. The additional touch is welcomed eagerly, makes her feel more secure somehow-- not just her lying on the bed allowing him to put his mouth on her, but something more entangled, more intimate. He'll be able to feel her body twitch in response to his ministrations, waist arching beneath his hands. There are scars on her sides, the most prominent a slash as from a sword just above her right hip, and another on the left side along her ribs, both long-healed, pale and raised.

She lets out another noise when he tongues her clit, a startled little inhale, sharp enough it's almost a squeak. ]

Th-there--

[ As if he doesn't know. It spills out of her involuntarily, as if afraid he'll move away. ]

[His fingertips glide against the lines of marred skin where old scars lay, tracing their path where he can. Were he more focused on them, he might be able to tell from the shape of it alone what kind of wound it once was, the bite of steel piercing skin.

But he isn’t. Sephiroth is far more attentive to her reactions, the way she angles her hips just so, pressed up harder against his tongue. There, she says, and as always, he is quick to comply — he laves against her clit for a moment more, before his lips then seal over her in a sucking kiss.

His heart thumps so hard in his chest he practically wonders if she can hear it, too.]

Fffuck-- [ she swears under her breath, hips jumping.

Her fingers tighten in his hair, holding on hard to a fistful close to his scalp as her breathing escalates, faster and louder. ]

[ As soon as he makes it out of the interrogation, supposedly casual as it'd been, Claude's thoughts are already whirling. Even if it hadn't been so casually mentioned they might follow up with the others on the supply run - something he's sure was meant to press more information out of him, and was entirely unsuccessful - there was no chance he wasn't going to reach out to the others as soon as he could.

There's no sign of Ciri when he'd stopped by the inn to gather a few more things to head about his day as usual. Something probably for the best, since he's not fond of the idea of having this conversation where it can be overheard for multiple reasons, and it's while completing his normal day-to-day job Claude realizes there's a solution to that.

Well - a partial solution. But it's still better than waiting any longer, so before long Ciri will catch sight of mostly neat script with an important message. ]

Ciri - you should know the Free Cities has questions about how we crossed the ravine. On my way to work this morning I got pulled in for a friendly little chat. The interviewer mentioned she's planning on talking to others on the supply run at some point.

To be clear, I didn't say anything to them. But that doesn't mean they won't try asking what they did in other ways hoping one of us will say something different.

Thank you for letting me know.

If the goal is for our stories to align, I'll need to know what you told them.

[ Ciri isn't so worried about them finding out about her short-distance portaling abilities if they press, if it becomes more dangerous to lie and keep it from them. But she definitely prefers the knowledge to stay out of the military hands so they won't try to push her for more assistance. She's helped in Libertas; she helped with the supply run. But those were efforts on her part to do something good for the regular people who are suffering because of Thorne's actions -- and now will probably suffer further due to the Free Cities' retaliation.

They have a fine line to walk here. Claude, at least, seems aware. ]

[ Right, that would be a good start. Raising an alarm (or something close to it) was just the first step, and keeping any explanations in sync will - hopefully - keep this from becoming anything else. Something worse, or something more involved. All things he doesn't trust the Free Cities to handle well in terms of what it might mean for any Summoned. ]

My conversation with them started with them asking why I chose to hang back with the troops rather than assist with the ravine, and then they asked how me to describe how we crossed it. I said I stayed back to keep morale up since the soldiers weren't happy about stopping, and that we just so happened to fell some trees the length of the ravine to cross in a great stroke of luck.

Very convenient those trees were there - that was all. No mention of anything else from me and it'll stay that way.

I understand.

And considering you were with the soldiers, it makes sense that you might not have seen everything, if more details come to light later, after all.

Have you warned Jesper?

Even if more details come to light, I don't plan on confirming them at any point. I'm far less concerned about covering myself than making sure whatever the Free Cities doesn't need to know stays out of their hands. Not unless whoever it is decides to reveal that for themselves, of course.

[ Not really his job these days given that he's not a commander of anything and the Summoned are more than capable of handling themselves, but old habits die hard and hence the slight correction. Whatever those who might be questioned about their abilities end up wanting to do, he'll support. That's their choice to make and one he feels shouldn't be accidentally made for them by sharing things better left unsaid. ]

I haven't yet, but I will be soon. I was hoping to see if I could catch both of you in person before it occurred to me it'd be better to share this now in case those follow ups happen sooner than implied. I'll make sure Jesper knows this happened, too.

[ On Christmas morning, there will be a box wrapped in gold paper waiting on the doorstep of the Witcher family home. A card on top bears her name in Julie's handwriting, and the inside wishes her a merry Christmas, "or Yule or whatever".

Inside the box are two tiny lanterns on hooks. The earrings hook over the ear rather than through, and the lanterns both hold real miniature flames that flicker. A small strip of paper tucked underneath them explains that if held up in the dark, the fire will cast enough light to actually function as a small light source.

Merry Christmas. ]

[ Geralt would've given this to Ciri in person as close to the actual date of Yule as possible. He is not a man who wraps presents, and given the nature of it, wrapping it would be moot. It's quite obviously a sword.

Not meant to replace her steel sword, it's forged using the magic-absorbing ore delivered from Nocwich and is identical in make to the one Geralt commissioned for himself, though designed for Ciri's preference and taste. Silver isn't needed in this world, but every Witcher should have a second sword for tackling enemies of a magical nature, which is what this one's made for.

Etched down the length of the blade is a series of Elder runes that translate to Chaos flows through you, which Ciri may recognize as a portion of the inscription carved into the back of his medallion.

She'll also find a motorcycle of her own waiting in the Horizon, whenever she next visits. Geralt will tell Ciri it's from Nadine, since Nadine helped craft it, though it was clearly done upon Geralt's request. ]

Edited (my dumbass forgot swords can't be in nocwich.) 2022-12-28 22:58 (UTC)

[ She loves it. Of course she loves it, and tells Geralt so multiple times. (She'll have to extend her thanks to Jayce at some point too; it's kind of funny, he and Viktor ended up being responsible for both sides of this gift exchange.)

Naturally, she loves the motorcycle as well and will be showing it off around the Horizon when she finds it.

For now, she has a gift for Geralt in person too. A couple, in fact.

First, for Geralt himself: a large metal canteen wrapped in leather, on which is embossed the familiar sign of a snarling wolf's head. Ciri explains the metal is enchanted to cool any water put in it, and keep it cold indefinitely -- a luxury in the desert heat.

And second, for Roach (for Geralt, obviously, but she says it's for Roach): a set of new saddlebags with more room and better weather-proofing to protect from both sun and the rain that comes around these months in winter. ]

[ Though he's fond of the gifts she gave him, he's most satisfied by how much she likes hers. She reminds him of himself so much. Sometimes he looks at her and thinks with startling, overwhelming clarity, I raised her.

He spends the rest of the evening with her, of course.

She will find that Roach's new saddlebags are in use the next day, immediately. He trades his old ones in, and tells Ciri that Roach is pleased with her new gift. ]

You wanted updates on my...project.

[yeah that sounds like a good way to start.]

It's begun. I have what I need to build it.

Safely?

Yes, of course.

[Maybe!]

I'm going to use it, and then destroy it. You don't need to worry, but I thought you should know.

Thank you for telling me. Really.

When you say you're going to use it

It's going to help you?

I think so. I have to try.

You think so?

How sure are you?

Sure enough, given developing circumstances. Our stop-gaps are getting less effective.

[ She doesn't have to ask to know what that means. It leaves her with a cold, sinking feeling. Uncomfortable. Lingering. ]

Is there anything I can do to help? Supplies you need?

Just don't tell the government.

[ha, ha]

I could show you. Before I smash it.

[ It's probably in jest, and she's not actually misunderstanding -- but Ciri answers seriously anyway, just in case he had any doubts. ]

I won't tell anyone, Viktor. It's your business, not mine to share.

[ His offer gives her pause. She remembers the dream--

But a dream is all it is.

If he wants to show her, she will admit she's curious. And it seems he does want to, or he wouldn't have mentioned it. She knows that well enough by now. ]

I'd be interested in seeing it.

[ She doesn't question why he'll smash it, doesn't show any surprise (though there is a flicker of it, privately). He's already made his decision, it seems. Somehow, it doesn't make her any less anxious, but she respects him for already thinking that far. There is a lot Ciri doesn't understand, but between all Viktor's told her and what was shared without them quite voluntarily choosing it... it's enough. Enough to know this means a lot. Enough to treat it with the somberness it warrants. ]

My offer stands, Viktor.

You needn't do this alone.

[It's not about the Hexcore, really--Ciri has seen that in dreams and visions, and though he has much more faith in the one he's made here, the one uncorrupted by whatever the Singularity was doing to them at the time, asking her to come see it is redundant. Viktor simply doesn't know how to ask his closest friends to come see him, so he has to make up some kind of excuse.

Even now, he's dancing around the subject. He wants to see Ciri because he's not sure if he's going to survive the procedure, and he wants to be able to tell her everything he needs to, in the event that happens. It's much easier, however, to pretend like he just wants to show her his latest invention.]

I'm not alone.

[ That isn't quite what she meant, but Ciri doesn't argue. It is his choice, even if she can't help but worry. It doesn't occur to her this is pretext for him asking her to visit; she'd have done so anyway. And will again soon, considering this conversation. ]

Good.

When should I come over?

After hours, I think. To avoid suspicion. I'm working out of my laboratory at the Grand Academy. If you like, I can meet you at the west entrance to the main quad and take you there.

I see.

All right, then. Just let me know when you're ready.

Whenever you like. Sooner is probably better.

[ ...that's a little ominous. ]

Very well. Tomorrow around sundown?

I'll be there.

See you then.

[ Left in early January—a request for permission, even if it isn't phrased precisely as such. He knows the gift means something to Ciri, but he also senses she will not hesitate to lend Julie a hand with something like this. ]

The bracelet I gave you.
With the enchantment.

I suggested Julie study the same enchantment through it
To protect herself.
She might ask to see it some time.

Of course. I'm happy to lend it to her.

To use, if she needs it. Not just to study.

[ Of course, she's grateful for the gift and the bracelet has some meaning to her since it was a gift from Geralt -- but if Julie feels like she needs protection, Ciri wouldn't hesitate to give it to her. She's sure Geralt understands. ]

She'll appreciate the offer.

[ He does understand, for the same reasons he offered it to Julie.

There's one more thing: ]

When you've time.
Come by Kaer Morhen

Sure.

Is it urgent?

No.
Just something to show you.

Now you've got me curious.

I'll let you know.

I can give Julie my bracelet later today. No need to wait for her to ask if she wants it.

Hey. I know Claude told you he was interviewed. So was I. I told them about my powers and that I made the bridge. I said that none of you knew or were a part of it.

I thought you said you didn't want them to know about your magic.

What happened?

It was too risky to lie, the guards saw that the bridge was unnatural. My only choice was to put it on one of you or tell the truth.

[ And obviously he wasn't going to do that. ]

I told her that where I'm from they kill people like me and I've been masking my magic for a reason. She believed me and said that she won't report it but that I should if I sign up for dangerous missions again. And that I could be of help to them later. For now, I'm not being forced.

[ For now. And he doesn't believe for a second she won't report him. But overall, it worked out acceptably. ]

Claude warned me they mentioned they'd be speaking to all of us at some point.

I don't want to throw further suspicion on you.

If I'm asked, should I mention you told me and instructed me not to tell for the reasons you just said, or should I pretend not to know how you made the bridge?

Pretend not to know, I told them none of you had any idea that I did it.

Understood. Thanks for letting me know.

So I'm to say I believe we simply knocked some trees over and formed a bridge?

Yes, and you missed whatever I was doing while gathering trees or doing caravan things. They didn't mention anything to me about you teleporting so I think they missed that. But in case they didn't, I would have a lie ready for how you got there. Or you can tell the truth, they seemed fairly indifferent to us having our own magics to a point.

I see. Noted.

I don't think the ability to portal is so unusual in this world, so if it comes to it, I will share it. I mostly didn't want them getting ideas -- much like your concerns.

She did say at the end that they would be interested in my skills if I want to come back to her, but there was no pressure for now. I'm fairly good at reading people, she seemed genuine.

I would assume since they have the answer about the bridge it might go pretty quickly for you.

I hope so. It seems annoying already.

You'd think the fact that we succeeded with the supplies would be all that matters, honestly.

❧ IC INBOX: Abraxas

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oh my god i'm screaming JULIE NO

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