WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!

[abraxasmods]

WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!

Welcome to The Free Cities! The portal exits outside the capital city of Cadens. The first impression of the city is its sheer size. It sprawls out across the landscape like a great hulking beast at rest. The wall that encircles it barely contains it, the buildings of Cadens practically bulging against its restraint.

The air here seems thicker somehow, tinged with a scent that’s acrid and smoky. Smog hangs high over the city, belched out by smokestacks that tower over the industrial district. The desert stretches out behind it, dotted with towers and dust clouds that disappear into the horizon. Multiple gates lead inside and each is staffed by soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms that wave a steady stream of people through without appearing to pay much attention. People are coming and going almost all of the time, to and from the outposts and areas of activity around the city proper. It’s difficult to tell just what’s out there beyond the impression of tall metal structures and a great deal of labor. Wagons carrying travelers to Libertas and Aquila roll out from the Travel Post outside the city wall.

Anyone who can sense magic will notice a much lower concentration here. No one will be stopped or questioned at the gate, even if the soldiers seem to take note of the fugitives from Thorne.

The activity and sheer number of citizens can be overwhelming. It’s crowded and loud and feels constantly in motion with everyone talking and yelling over each other. It’s easy to get swept up in the ever-moving throng or find oneself ducking into the mouth of a narrow alley just to breathe.

Anyone who’s willing to make their way to the northern part of the city and Portham Hall will find Prime Minister Marlo Reiner available to receive them.

Comments

[cointosser]

[For once in his life, Jaskier does not insist on the more expensive inn, even though it's always been him dragging Geralt to nicer accommodations (and usually paying for them, if one must be honest.) Until he can establish himself once more, it's best they budget their coin.

And honestly, anywhere that isn't that blasted room in Thorne is better.

He does, however, insist Cirilla should take her own room -- there's plenty for that, at least -- but, of course, she argues, because Jaskier cannot meet a simple person in his life who simply agrees with his suggestions. He huffs at her but lets it go, feeling a very harrowing sense of déjà vu.

The moment the door is closed, he removes his lute case, his shoulders aching, and sets it near the door. He can't hold back the huff of a laugh at Ciri's declaration.]

What, this is your first prison escape? [He actually doesn't know. Prior to this, they had been very limited in their conversation. There's a whole life to Ciri he doesn't know yet, isn't there? And the same is said of Geralt.

He eyes his friend steadily. This is, truly, the first time he's seen them together. The Witcher and his Child of Destiny.

He turns his back and sets out the food he's managed on their way upstairs, opting instead of eating for falling face-first onto the bed. He nudges his boots off, one after the other, and simply sinks into it. He'll move. Eventually.] This must be the first time in my life I've ever heard you recommend something even slightly akin to relaxation.

[Said into the pillow. Whatever, he knows Geralt can hear him. He lifts up just enough to turn his head to Ciri.] How are you doing, my girl? I'm afraid you didn't have the drawn-out introduction the rest of us did.

[wiedzminka]

...hm. First one quite like this. [ She responds without really answering. Jaskier might have meant it as a joke, but she doesn't seem amused.

Ciri draws her knees up, stretching her arms out to rest them atop, idly picking dirt from under her fingernails. ]

Still deciding. [ How could she possibly be doing? Not happy, but also relieved to be out of that cell. Anxious. Frustrated. Worried about Yennefer. Upset that the power she'd never wanted fails her now that she actually wishes it were here.

Ciri glances up at Geralt. Then, if he doesn't move, she lets her head tip sideways, resting just barely against his leg. More for the connection than physical support. They can get up to eat in a minute. ]

My head says 'don't waste coin,' but my heart says, 'fuck it, I need a drink.'

[gynvael]

[ Jaskier's remark gets little more than a grunt out of him. They need to eat. He's been subsisting off of one meager meal a day for weeks, aside from whatever pastry Jaskier managed to shove into his pockets. Geralt stares back pointedly. He can tell what's on the bard's mind—what he's thinking. Jaskier was there in Cintra. Jaskier's one of the only people who knows what he thought about...having this child. It feels like everyone's always believed he should've taken the girl. Destiny. Torn her from her family, with no regard, because Destiny had declared it so. Like Visenna had done with him.

She's not a child anymore. And some part of him recognizes that means whatever happened before, somewhere along the way, she's made her own choices again. To remain close with him and Yennefer, years later. He just—it's hard to know that he's important to her and also know that he isn't...the same. That the dismay on her face the first time they met, it'll never quite go away. (Will it?) That all the embraces and relief in the world cannot make up for a decade lost.

Something bumps his leg gently. His gaze shifts down to Ciri. A thread unwinds between them, and he takes it despite himself. His expression softens. He sits down beside her; lets her head fall on his shoulder instead, if it will. ]

Or, [ he looks up at Jaskier, ] we have a drink on behalf of the bard's sticky fingers.

[ Just hand over the fucking wine, Jaskier. Geralt hasn't any idea where Jaskier got it, never mind how in the hell it ended up in his lute case during an execution of all events. He also will not ask. In truth, he'd take it himself, but if there's one thing Geralt doesn't do, it's go near Jaskier's lute without cause. The bard becomes a different person where the sanctity of his instrument is concerned. ]

[cointosser]

What? [He lifts his head again, staring at Ciri as if he's trying to figure out if she means that or not. First one...? No, you know what? It can wait for another day. He shifts onto his back, staring at the roof above. His tiredness has reached a point that feels bone-deep, but it certainly is not fair for him to take the bed when he's had one.

He considers arguing for it. He's not a complete bastard, though.

Eventually Jaskier manages to crawl off the bed with a huff, noting that the Witcher and the girl have gotten... quite close. Closer, he thinks, than he's ever seen anyone with Geralt. Besides -- well, her. Yennefer. Obviously. And this is not like that.

Jaskier purses his lips.] Right. I forgot about your bloody Witcher senses. They must be back if you're sticking your nose in my lute case!

[It is old hat that Geralt knows to leave certain things of Jaskier's alone. Specifically that case. And his lute... his lute which is not in it. It's a fine enough lute, what they provided to him. But it is not his. And now, with the freedom to miss it, the weight of its loss suddenly returns.

He regards his companions in silence after his half-hearted snap, and somehow, the sight of it lessens that weight in him.]

Look at you. Two peas in a pod. [He rubs his face, then, with a sigh, smiles.] I suppose I can be convinced to share. As long as you remember the meaning of the word, Geralt.

[He may have stuck his tongue out a little as he goes to open his case, but he will not acknowledge it. The lute inside is still surprisingly safe, and his hand runs down the neck before he lifts it. Behind the instrument are the few things he managed to steal and he, luckily, brought with him prior to the execution. He is now no less thankful that was the day they'd picked, he and Hector. It would've been glorious.

Nestled in the groove where the lute's neck lay is a wine bottle wrapped in velvet, which he definitely also stole. He takes it, offering it to Ciri. The cork already sticks out a bit. (How else was he to be brave enough for the escape today?)] Ladies first.

[wiedzminka]

[ When Geralt sits beside her, Ciri takes the silent invitation with great relief; her shoulders relax slightly, something in her chest loosening. She breathes out, shifting her weight to lean against him, and blinks back the tears that blur her vision again suddenly at the fresh rush of emotions too unwieldy and mixed to name.

Even if things are different by necessity and the distance of time, even if she is still unfamiliar, she doesn't feel like a stranger anymore. It's still not entirely comfortable, but it's not uncomfortable either. A slow progression. Trust extended. A fragile spark of happiness in a well of uncertainty and worry.

She smiles, lifting her head to watch Jaskier's movements, with the weight of her shoulder still leaning against Geralt's. Her other arm extends to take the bottle when it's offered.

Ciri is not shy. She pushes the cork out of the way with her thumb, letting it fall to the ground (this bottle is not going to stay full long enough to need to be sealed up again), and raises it in a vague gesture of toasting. ]

To Jaskier's sticky fingers.

[ She takes a long, enthusiastic swallow. And then another, pulling away from the bottle with a sigh. Trying not to drink her whole share at once before handing it off to Geralt. ]

[gynvael]

[ Some tension bleeds out of him. He isn't relaxed, not yet—but out here, inside this room, he breathes easier than he has for weeks. His senses have returned, finally; he can appreciate it now that it's stopped overwhelming. He's spent the past three months feeling like he's submerged underwater. Part of him already itches to find a hunt, a trail—to make sure everything's as it should be with him.

Drink will do. He watches Ciri tip the bottle back, unsure of what to say, how to feel about the unshed tears there. He quietly takes the wine. He'd say she's grown up far from the princess she once was, but. He's met Calanthe. There are shades of the queen in Ciri, too.

So. Here they are. The three of them. It isn't what he expected, isn't what he planned, but it's...something. A start. At least tonight, he can sleep without men stationed outside the cells watching. Take a damn bath whenever he fucking wants instead of waiting for Jaskier to come fetch him like a dog. He's only glad Cirilla and Yennefer arrived much later. That their time in the dungeon was brief. Or. That's the hope, in Yennefer's case. It's what he'll let himself believe until he hears otherwise. The thought of anything else—he can't do anything about it right now either way. No point in dwelling.

When he hands the bottle to Jaskier, his gaze settles on him. There's a conversation they need to have. Just not while Ciri is here. Instead, something else is on his mind. Something Jaskier told him some time ago, after that failed little escape by the others. ]

Are you friends with any mages that might've went through the same door?

[cointosser]

[Jaskier's mouth opens in outrage.] Don't make me out to be some common thief! This was originally going to be a gift, thank you!

[With a huff, he moves to sit beside Ciri, his legs stretched out in front of him on this dusty, dirty inn floor. If they're going to share this bottle, he may as well. Already just seeing her take a swig makes him consider going downstairs. What was a few more coins at this point? Fuck it, he wants to feel something other than sober for once.

He ignores and decides it's simply easier to comment on how the girl looks as if she may cry, how she's clearly not comfortable here. Hard to tell if it's because it's here, or because of what happened, and... he's too tired to ask, assumes she's too tired to answer. They barely know each other still.

He hopes they'll have time to change that.

Jaskier turns his head to take them in, next to each other. Next to each other, they are two peas in a pod. Somehow Ciri's face looks far too close to Geralt's: their hair a similar color, sporting scars that mar otherwise perfect faces. It doesn't make sense that bright green somehow feels so close to bright gold.

He's not sure whatto make of this. The idea that there is a Princess Cirilla out there who... who's here, and old enough to have been on her own for quite a while. Attached to a witcher who, only a season ago, was telling him to fuck off and to leave him alone.

A Witcher who must have been alone. Returning to Cintra before it burned completely. There was so much he was missing here.

And yet he smiles at both of them. Did it turn out all right, then? That someone could be so attached to Geralt like this? Of course she must be, that she leans against him so easily.

Jaskier sits up on his own, pulling threads from the edge of his sleeve as he awaits his turn.

His draw isn't as deep as the other two, but gods. That wine tastes fantastic.]

Mages? [He lifts his head to glance at Geralt across Ciri between them.] Well, I told Hector where I was going... [He frowns, a little, wandering what Geralt may be getting at. He watches his expression.

Ah. He phrased it that way for a reason.]

Give me enough time, I'll find plenty of friends among the mages. [He gives one of his winning smiles, even if it's very tired at the edges.] Can't have targets on you forever, can you? If it helps, the magic here is... it's less. Perhaps you both can feel it. It may not even reach here.

[wiedzminka]

[ When her turn comes again, Ciri is more conservative in her gulping. She hasn't had much to eat in a while (though more than Geralt, comparatively, since she's smaller), and nothing yet today. Already, the enthusiastic draw she'd taken from the bottle earlier is warming her belly. It won't do to get completely soused. Tempting as it is. ]

You are the most uncommon of thieves, Jaskier. It's a compliment.

[ She nudges his ankle affectionately with her new boot toe (she'd ditched the shitty sandals, as soon as they'd gotten real shoes, though the clothes will be changed into after a bath). The bottle is handed back to Geralt. ]

I can feel it is... different. But if you know anyone with more knowledge of whatever magic was used to track those in the dungeons before, it is still worth looking into. I'd rather know if we're still marked or not.

[gynvael]

[ Hector is not the mage Geralt was thinking of, both because the man is a necromancer and because Jaskier doesn't seem certain he's even here. A snort escapes him nonetheless. He'd seen that dramatic goodbye between the two of them. (Not that Geralt's one to talk.)

Both Jaskier and Cirilla seem to realize what he means by asking, so he doesn't explain further. ]

Cities seem prepared for war at any moment. [ How big is that army? Larger than Nilfgaard's, he wants to say. ] I doubt Thorne will encroach their territory for a handful of escaped prisoners. [ He still wants to know. It'll decide how he feels about leaving these borders. He hasn't got any plans to do so right now, but -- they're here solely for pragmatic reasons. Not because he wants to be caught up in this battle over the Singularity or the Cities' plans to destroy it. Their stay here is temporary at best.

He considers. Wonders, briefly, if he can pull on the same magic Jaskier has access to. The thought leaves him uneasy. He isn't a mage. Even if he supposes, had his life taken a different path, he might've been one. A sorcerer. A druid. ]

See who knows anything. [ He moves only far enough to grab the food. Crusty bread, hard cheese. Good enough. He splits the loaf for the three of them. ] I'd rather not rely on our good standing here to stay covered.

[cointosser]

I'll take it as one.

[For now! And though it surprises him Ciri would compliment him or be affectionate, Jaskier is more than happy to accept it right now. Things are complicated enough without questioning every little thing.

Jaskier tips his head back with a yawn.] I should hope none of us are that important.

[Besides, they certainly weren't the only ones here. Others had gone through that same portal. It would be to their advantage that the prisoners -- and the guests -- had scattered to so many far winds.]

There's certainly a chance Himeka is here. The dragoness who told me about the magic. But she's... [Jaskier isn't going to insult her because she's perfectly kind, but she is a little. You know.] At any rate, worry not, my fair friends. We will have plenty of good standing here, either way, once I've worked my magic.

[He wiggles his fingers to weave a little blue magic between them. Simply to show off.] More figuratively, of course.

[wiedzminka]

[ Himeka is a name Ciri recognizes, but she doesn't comment. If the dragoness, as Jaskier calls her, is here, then she wouldn't mind talking to the woman again; if not, they'll have to find someone else. Yennefer would surely have been able to tell, but--

Ciri tries not to dwell on how Yennefer is doing right now, tries simply to trust her and trust that she can take care of herself. Easy to think. Hard to feel.

She crunches into third of bread Geralt hands her, gnawing on it unhappily, and hopes Thorne thinks none of them are important. They'll find out sooner or later, won't they? ]

I don't want to draw too much attention.

[ Jaskier's livelihood is to draw attention, naturally. It's lucky that music is a universally prized skill, at least in most worlds she's visited that have people and cultures in them, and Ciri recognizes that it's important the bard build some reputation for himself if he's to rely on it and they on him-- but the way he says we, it makes her chest tighten uncertainly. She doesn't want to get involved too deeply with this place.

Though, in fairness, right now she doesn't know what to do.

She looks to Geralt, to see if he'll agree. ]

[gynvael]

She isn't here. [ Himeka is also a name he recognizes. She left through the other portal. Kay had told him so, in the brief moment they'd passed by each other. They'll need to rely on someone else. Someone who isn't Yennefer, which he's also avoiding thinking about.

He feels Ciri tense beside him. Geralt looks back, then over at Jaskier. At the spark of blue. The bard, with magic. He still can't wrap his head around it even after all this time. ] He'll be careful.

[ He knows Ciri is cautious, after all her time hiding from...the entire fucking Continent, apparently, but he also trusts Jaskier not to put them in danger. Like her, the idea of settling, of getting attention, makes him uneasy. They aren't going to be in the city in the long term if he has anything to say about it. And the political tension feels ready to snap at any moment. If it does, the last place he wants to be is deeply embedded here. Speaking of magic, though.

He tilts his head. How far along have Jaskier's birds come? They were mere illusions at first, but in more recent days, he's noticed the way they move. Pausing. Listening. (Not to mention the flowers.) ] Can you use your birds?

[cointosser]

[Jaskier snorts into his bite of bread.] If you're anything like Geralt, which you clearly are, you're both more suited to being, how do I say... shadows? Not the center of attention? Far from the stage? I'll be happy to keep all the attention on myself.

[He may not have spent much time with Ciri -- a problem which he was rather looking forward to fixing -- he definitely sees Geralt reflected in her. Some of his movements, maybe. Or how he speaks? He's spent decades with Geralt. He knows him well. Knows him plenty to see another also familiar with him.

He pauses in his next bite. Jaskier glances between them, and a small worry comes between his brows. He'll be careful. Ciri knows him, clearly. With lost time, and knowing his name. Why should anyone ever have to assure her he'd be careful? What, did Geralt convince her he was a fool, too?

He stops for a moment. It's true that she has not really indicated how well she knows him. Over a decade. It's a very long time. It's a long time to not know one very well.

He moves past it quickly enough, rolling a bit of cheese between his fingers to form a ball. The thought lingers despite it, and his tone is no longer as light as it was before.]

Oh, suddenly we're interested in my magic? [Jaskier says the words much smoother than he really feels about the whole thing. If anyone is bewildered still about his magic, Jaskier feels that much more about it. After his education in the arts, though, he certainly knows one must use one's talents, all of them, to get what they want. And in this instance, being safe... is what he wants.

A flick of his wrist, and a little bluebird sits on his knee, giving a few chirps before it stops. He no longer controls it now, and it hops down his leg, flutters in the air, and lands on the tip of Ciri's boot.] Yes. I'll send a few out. [He looks to Ciri in case an explanation is needed.] They can listen. Perhaps gather a few words we otherwise wouldn't hear.

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri nods, not insisting further.

Jaskier doing magic is certainly a novelty, but one she's prepared for considering she knows this place allows a connection to chaos to most of its residents. Even if being in the dungeon all this time, she hasn't seen much of it. The blue flourish of light, though a bit surprising, hadn't kept her attention as much as the bird. She reaches forward when it lands on her foot, trying to coax it onto her finger instead. ]

Oh, wonderful! And useful, too.

You must have a strong penchant for magic, learning to create something so intricate in such a short time.

[ She sounds genuinely impressed. And might be smiling a little easier thanks to the wine, even if it's still a tentative sort of ease. It will take some time before she accepts they're relatively safe here for the time being. And for the worry for Yennefer to fade a little more. ]

[gynvael]

[ His gaze sharpens. He's known Jaskier a long time. Has learned to read his frowns and pauses and shift in tone. He isn't certain what's changed in the air, but he can tell something has. Is it his magic? Something about it, that Jaskier isn't saying? In the end, he lets it go. If Jaskier has something on his mind, he has no doubt the bard will tell him soon enough. Jaskier's never kept anything to himself.

Instead, he crams some of the bread into his mouth. It's dry, shit bread. Actually, it's more shit than the buns they were given in the dungeon. But it's bread they got with their own hands and their own damn money. For all of this talk of plans and things that need to be done and being careful, Geralt still feels like he's ten paces behind. Scrambling to catch up with—all of this. A hundred unanswered questions, a hundred things he doesn't fucking know, that he can't yet know. Maybe never will know.

When the wine comes back to him, he takes less of a mouthful than he really wants. As much as he wants to fall into that stupor, he wants a clear head more. Let the two of them indulge. They sure as hell deserve it.

He lets Ciri talk instead while he stays quiet, sitting against the wall. She seems fond of Jaskier, brightening at his magic. Seems to smile easier than Geralt does. For that he's glad. That at least in this, she hasn't taken after him. ]

[cointosser]

[Despite the moment that passed him before, and despite the fact he knows Geralt noticed, Jaskier brightens a bit now with a curling smile around the edges of his lips. Wonderful? That was... oh. That was rather nice to hear.

He knew it. Ciri was a good, sweet girl still. A wonder, considering, and yet how his heart warms to begin to understand it now.]

I would love to think so, but my abilities so far are rather limited to this particular spell. A minor healing one on the side, if you want to count it. [He chokes off a laugh because bringing that up brings up the memory of Yennefer's face when he healed her bruises... right before he portaled far away from her.

Ah. She'll never forget that.]

Well, you must have some magic of your own, Ciri. I believe most did in Thorne. Have you tried at all?

[wiedzminka]

[ Yes, she had noticed the healing spell. And she doesn't care if Yennefer was clearly annoyed. It was good of Jaskier to help her, going into... whatever it is she's decided to do to get free and begin positioning herself where she needs to be.

Ciri leaves off trying to get the bird to come closer, letting it hop where it will, and picks up some cheese instead, ripping off little bites not out of politeness but because it'll last longer that way. Give her something to look at that isn't either of their faces. ]

When, exactly, would I have had time to do that?

[ Her tone is sharper than she means it to be. The truth is, of course she's tried. She's tried reaching for that power with all its vastness inside her that feels like trying to move the entire ocean, and what she expected to be extremely difficult turned out to be extremely impossible instead. She hadn't even tried to use it. Simply to feel it.

But the ocean has become a puddle. A muddy slurry of water at the bottom of a deep, deep well.

Ciri wipes her mouth on the back of her hand, then reaches for the bottle. ]

I'm not a sorceress. Wasn't the first thing on my mind.

[gynvael]

[ That gets a soft snort from him, something that's exasperated and unsurprised all at once. He chews on more bread. Jaskier's problem with Yennefer is something he's been experiencing for the past eight years, since Rinde. It will be there, for as long as the rivers flow.

He studies Ciri instead out of the corner of his eyes, when an edge slides into her voice. His brows furrow slightly. Not a sorceress. Just a girl with Elder Blood. Who can open portals not even the most powerful mage could dream of doing. He realizes Jaskier likely doesn't know. Does Yennefer? He thinks so, given Yen's belief that Ciri must go, but he's not certain if Cirilla has chosen to tell Jaskier. It isn't his decision, either way, and if what she says of the Wild Hunt is true...

There are enough targets between the three of them. He won't paint one on Jaskier, too.

Though talk of magic makes him curious. It wasn't the first thing on his mind, either. Witchers are not made for magic. He isn't certain if Jaskier feels something that tells him the power is his, that allows him to pull on it, to shape it; for Geralt, there's nothing. No surprise, given his mutations, but: his Signs must be back, if his senses are, too.

He lifts his hand to try, while Jaskier and Ciri continue the conversation. A candle off to the side nearby lights itself, the smallest, almost unnoticeable whisper of magic in the air. It flares brighter, for a split second, than he expected, but between the wine and his distraction with the tension from Ciri, he dismisses it as a trick of the light.

Though. ] Hm. [ He takes the wine without saying more on it. ]

[cointosser]

[Jaskier doesn't quite flinch, but he does frown at her a bit.] Ouch. Excuse me for stepping on a toe.

[She has a point, of course, but it does seem to be that he's not really met any who did not have magic before, and now they've been gifted (or cursed?) with it. It would be rather nice to share the experience, is all.

He sighs, settling his head back. Great. Now he's stuck with two of them. All sharp, pointed edges and cold glares when they're upset about something. Two peas in a pod. It's becoming more and more true as he notices things, isn't it?]

I hate to surprise you, but neither am I a sorceress. [His little bird flits back to him, landing on his head, as if unsettled by the tone in Ciri's voice as well -- or the candle that flickers to life as Geralt Signs at it.] Once we're all a bit less prickly, perhaps I can attempt to teach you a bit of something. Or we can all sit here and continually get drunk. Both options are rather enticing.

[wiedzminka]

[ The air in the room shifts, that oppressive heaviness to it falling again. Fuck this. She's not drunk enough.

Ciri crams more cheese into her mouth while waiting for the bottle, which is quickly becoming rather light, to come back around. She does not apologize, but she does glance up at Jaskier. (After shooting a look at Geralt and his surreptitious candle-lighting. Looks like he can use his Signs just fine in Cadens.)

It isn't Jaskier's fault she's angry and frustrated about this whole shit situation. He'd been trying to cheer her up. It's just hard not to be upset when everything is so... upsetting. And right now is not the time she wants to try explaining it to him. Maybe eventually, but not now. ]

Second option first. Then maybe we can talk again.

[ A momentary pause. Ciri looks away. ]

Healing spell seemed useful.

[cointosser]

[Luckily for Jaskier, the last thing he ever expects from anyone he knows is an apology. Certainly not from Geralt's ilk. Gods, he's pretty sure he's only ever heard him apologize once. And it wasn't even necessary at that point.

Jaskier sighs dramatically before he takes his final sip of wine. It truly is not enough for two, let alone three.

Perhaps he hoped for too much. Of course there's so much terrible shit still surrounding them, but he was hoping for a night where it wouldn't affect them all so much.]

Fine. Whatever you'd like. [He's too tired to be normal Jaskier anymore. Two people is far too much to hold up sometimes. He stands up, knees popping, and stretches with a yawn. His steps, for now, are still a bit steady.] I'm going to get more wine.

[gynvael]

[ The temperature drops. Geralt lets his gaze finally drift towards Jaskier, something in it telling the bard to let this go. Not that he thinks Jaskier is deliberately picking at it; there are things Jaskier doesn't know, that even Geralt doesn't know. He's been navigating with a certain care himself. And he isn't interested in tensions rising just because they're all a combination of exhausted and full on wine and not enough food. So when Jaskier gets up for more alcohol, Geralt lets him go without comment.

Which leaves him alone with Ciri. He looks over at her. It's hard. He gets it. He searches for some way to reassure her, something he can say, but. Fuck, he's tired, too. He lays a hand on her arm instead, a rare gesture from him. At least at this stage. ]

I can tell him to sing instead of talk.

[ Maybe he'll do that either way. Seems like a solution for all involved, and Jaskier can always be goaded into a song. ]

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri looks up at the touch. She's quiet for a moment, contemplating his hand on her arm as though it is something profound to think upon for several seconds. She doesn't smile at the joke (if it's a joke at all, which it might not be).

With Jaskier out of the room, it is the first moment they've had just the two of them -- truly just the two of them -- since she arrived. The silence feels strange. The world muffled, reduced to the indiscernible background noise of the city outside.

Ciri puts her head on his shoulder again. ]

Whatever's suppressing the full scope of my abilities, it's still there. I thought--

I don't know. I simply... don't know anymore.

[gynvael]

[ For awhile, he's silent. Ciri leans against him and he watches the flickering candles. The sun has well set now; the sound of drunkards can be heard clear through the walls. He wishes there was somewhere safe he could take her. Somewhere he knows she'll be protected. Home.

There isn't. There's just here. This overflowing city. Him and Jaskier, and Yennefer on the other side of the continent.

They're free, but it doesn't entirely feel it. The confines of this world still press down around him. ]

You will. [ It's quiet, but firm. She may not know now, but if there's one thing he would've taught her, it's that there's always a way. Of moving on. Of finding your footing again, even after the world has stolen all it can from you. ] And I'm here for you. When you need me.

[wiedzminka]

[ She is grateful that he has warmed to the closeness. Maybe it's not the same -- things can't be 'the same' between them when they're from such different times -- but it is a comfort, all the same. At least to Ciri.

He'll feel her nod her head very slightly against him before continuing, slowly, working it out aloud. ]

I can feel the magic Jaskier was talking about. But chaos feels different from-- that. And what I need to bring us home, that is missing. Or perhaps it's more accurate to say it's... out of reach.

[ She scoffs, not a laugh but a noise of contempt, disgust. ]

I have so rarely wanted it for anything, and now that it could actually do us some good, of course it can't be helpful.

[ She's been out of control before. She's been lost before. Without an anchor or a teacher, she'd been unable to find her way in the past. But she's never felt anything like this. ]

...do you think it has anything to do with the Singularity?

[ It's a whispered question, and one Ciri knows none of them have answers to. But it's the only thing in this world she can think of that appears markedly significant and unique from anywhere else she's been. ]