wiedzminka | ❧ IC INBOX: Abraxas

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.

❧ IC INBOX: Abraxas

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