[ There it is. She cuts right to what she means to say, clean and precise as a scalpel.
Ciri takes a sharp, quick breath; it catches in her too-right throat, stuttering out unevenly. There's no surprise in her expression. She'd already figured it out. ]
Please...
[ Ciri's thumbs rub anxiously over Yennefer's knuckles, calloused from the sword, holding on so tight it probably aches.
Despite the confusion and frustration, even though it's taken effort and pain to become used to the idea that Yennefer isn't exactly the woman she knows yet, Ciri has still cherished the time they could spend together. The circumstances be damned, she'd missed Yennefer, and only just gotten her back.
Now, Ciri has to let her go again-- into uncertainty, a world unknown, for a span of time none of them can even begin to guess at. She has to let Yennefer go, and with her, the idea that their escape would mean salvation. The hope she'd been clinging to, in quiet desperation, that as soon as the sorcery keeping their magic locked away, Ciri would simply be able to get them all home. Back to where -- and when -- they belonged. Somehow.
But she can't.
The certainty is there, cold and heavy as an iron lock. It's not a matter of controlling it; it simply can't be reached. Some part of her had known, even in the cells. A simple power-dampening spell, no matter the caliber, shouldn't be able to control what is inside her. If it were that easy, she'd have searched for a similar resolution to her problems with controlling it long ago.
No, there's something else. Something much, much bigger. (The Singularity? A problem with her?) Ciri doesn't know. She doesn't know what will happen-- to any of them, to Geralt or Yennefer or Jaskier or her, not in the future and not in the past. Whether being here has set everything in their own world on some unrelenting path to chaos and destruction. Whether this is how it's meant to be, or whether it's impossible, bending or shattering the rules of time or space, which may be arbitrary or rigid and are impossible to conceive of no matter the answer, no matter how she tries to understand. In all these years, nothing she has learned is of any use.
And neither is she.
Once again, all Ciri can do is run.
The tears spill over, stinging her eyes, hot on her cheeks. The magic of the portal nearby feels hot and metallic in the air, a suffocating inevitability and a necessary compromise. Is this Destiny? Is any of this right? Was there ever truly a choice at all? ]
Promise me--
[ Ciri leans in, pressing her face into Yennefer's shoulder. ]
Promise me I'll see you again. Promise me we'll find a way to set things right. Together.
[ Even if it's a lie. Even if none of them can really know, and it's a promise Yennefer has no way to keep. It will be their promise, all the same. ]
no subject
Ciri takes a sharp, quick breath; it catches in her too-right throat, stuttering out unevenly. There's no surprise in her expression. She'd already figured it out. ]
Please...
[ Ciri's thumbs rub anxiously over Yennefer's knuckles, calloused from the sword, holding on so tight it probably aches.
Despite the confusion and frustration, even though it's taken effort and pain to become used to the idea that Yennefer isn't exactly the woman she knows yet, Ciri has still cherished the time they could spend together. The circumstances be damned, she'd missed Yennefer, and only just gotten her back.
Now, Ciri has to let her go again-- into uncertainty, a world unknown, for a span of time none of them can even begin to guess at. She has to let Yennefer go, and with her, the idea that their escape would mean salvation. The hope she'd been clinging to, in quiet desperation, that as soon as the sorcery keeping their magic locked away, Ciri would simply be able to get them all home. Back to where -- and when -- they belonged. Somehow.
But she can't.
The certainty is there, cold and heavy as an iron lock. It's not a matter of controlling it; it simply can't be reached. Some part of her had known, even in the cells. A simple power-dampening spell, no matter the caliber, shouldn't be able to control what is inside her. If it were that easy, she'd have searched for a similar resolution to her problems with controlling it long ago.
No, there's something else. Something much, much bigger. (The Singularity? A problem with her?) Ciri doesn't know. She doesn't know what will happen-- to any of them, to Geralt or Yennefer or Jaskier or her, not in the future and not in the past. Whether being here has set everything in their own world on some unrelenting path to chaos and destruction. Whether this is how it's meant to be, or whether it's impossible, bending or shattering the rules of time or space, which may be arbitrary or rigid and are impossible to conceive of no matter the answer, no matter how she tries to understand. In all these years, nothing she has learned is of any use.
And neither is she.
Once again, all Ciri can do is run.
The tears spill over, stinging her eyes, hot on her cheeks. The magic of the portal nearby feels hot and metallic in the air, a suffocating inevitability and a necessary compromise. Is this Destiny? Is any of this right? Was there ever truly a choice at all? ]
Promise me--
[ Ciri leans in, pressing her face into Yennefer's shoulder. ]
Promise me I'll see you again. Promise me we'll find a way to set things right. Together.
[ Even if it's a lie. Even if none of them can really know, and it's a promise Yennefer has no way to keep. It will be their promise, all the same. ]