[ When he wakes alone, his first thought is that Ciri is gone. That's what seizes him, even more than the others who have vanished. He scrambles for her, peering through the impenetrable mist. It's disorienting without his senses; the robed figures appear out of nowhere, damn near teleporting if he didn't know better.
He pulls hard on the vines. Where—? The rocky paths spin. His head is fuzzy; the smell of blood is overwhelming, cloying, sticking to the back of his throat. He stares at the looming branching tree, the skulls and corpses that stack on the ground. In the back of his mind, he realizes it's an altar. His thoughts are sluggish, and he feels about ten minutes behind, still trying to figure out where in the hell Ciri is.
She isn't here. But there is someone else: a woman he's never spoken to, but whose face is familiar from their long days in this shithole. His gaze flicks to the acolytes, then back to the woman.
Something tells him no one's walking out of here. He shifts towards her, wrapping his fingers around the thick vines. The thorns dig into his flesh, blood dripping. It goes ignored—until a shrill pitch spikes in his ears, abruptly, painfully. He winces, both hands planting on the floor. ]
ritual ; laura.
He pulls hard on the vines. Where—? The rocky paths spin. His head is fuzzy; the smell of blood is overwhelming, cloying, sticking to the back of his throat. He stares at the looming branching tree, the skulls and corpses that stack on the ground. In the back of his mind, he realizes it's an altar. His thoughts are sluggish, and he feels about ten minutes behind, still trying to figure out where in the hell Ciri is.
She isn't here. But there is someone else: a woman he's never spoken to, but whose face is familiar from their long days in this shithole. His gaze flicks to the acolytes, then back to the woman.
Something tells him no one's walking out of here. He shifts towards her, wrapping his fingers around the thick vines. The thorns dig into his flesh, blood dripping. It goes ignored—until a shrill pitch spikes in his ears, abruptly, painfully. He winces, both hands planting on the floor. ]