abraxaslogs | WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!

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WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!

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.

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[ 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.

Edited 2021-09-08 07:17 (UTC)

[ 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. ]

[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.

[ 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.

[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.

[ 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. ]

[ 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.

[ 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.

[ 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. ]

[ Out of reach. That is more accurate, in fact. It says it isn't gone, just—what. Dormant? Pavetta's had been dormant, as well, until an event triggered it.

He isn't sure what to think. This is far out of his scope—Elder Blood and prophecies and myths that are not myths. And now worlds across worlds and a source of magic more powerful than anything that's been recorded. ]

Perhaps two keys can't exist in the same space.

[ It's only an inkling. Geralt won't say it his conclusion out loud; he doesn't know for certain. It sounds farfetched even in his mind. But it's entirely possible that the existence of the Singularity itself is coming into conflict with Ciri's own power. Which can only mean that it should be destroyed.

He pushes the thought firmly aside. That's a last resort if he's ever heard one. He's not about consider cracking open the damn thing to test a vague theory made on two hours of sleep and half a bottle of wine. ]

If nothing else, it must be masking you from the Wild Hunt. [ That's a small comfort. Still. There's enough to worry about without the Red Riders emerging on top of it all. ]

...yes. Perhaps.

[ She has been so concerned with trying to reach it that she hasn't really had time to think about what it means, alongside the Singularity. Now that Geralt says that aloud, it sounds plausible. It doesn't make understanding what to do about it any easier, but just having him understand seems to ease some of the pulled-tight pressure in her lungs. ]

In any case, we can't rely on it.

[ They can't rely on her. Not in the way she'd hoped they could. They'll have to find another way. ]

[ He sits with the thought for a little while longer. Tries to think about where they can go with this. Who he can talk to. Yennefer is in Thorne; he hasn't got any idea when he'll be able to speak to her again. If he can. She still needs to access the Horizon through another, and then—

Her memories. If it affects the others the same, now that some have been tethered. Maybe. ]

We'll find a way. [ Besides. He isn't saying it, given it's moot right now and might only cause Ciri to balk—but the reality is, even if her powers were unlocked, then what? If using them draws the Wild Hunt as she says? And would it be too late by then? Have their paths already spun off course the moment Thorne summoned them to this sphere? It isn't so simple as opening a door and everything righting itself.

He reaches for some of the cheese, offering a piece to Ciri. ] Will you tell Jaskier?

[ Ciri lifts her head, looking down at the cheese a moment, distracted, before reaching out to take it. She chews slowly, letting the silence draw out a few more seconds. ]

...I don't know.

[ The reply, when it finally comes, is not much of an answer at all. It isn't that she wants to hide it from Jaskier, exactly, but she's also not sure if telling him right now is smart either. The fewer people who know, the better. Not because she thinks Jaskier would run around telling anyone, but simply the fact he knows may put him in danger. Or her in danger.

Then again, him not knowing could put him in danger too. There's really no way to know.

After another few seconds of silence, Ciri looks back up at Geralt, clearly uncertain. ]

What do you think?

[ What does he think? Normally, he wouldn't worry. Not like this. If they were on the Continent, he would be assured that Jaskier has his connections, his friends, his fame and status and reputation with several courts to shield him. He would know that if things grew out of hand, at the very least he could bring the bard to Kaer Morhen. He would have his own people to rely on.

Out here, he's alone. It's a strange thought. He's always been alone, has always said that he's alone. But now that he's cut off from even his home, from Vesemir and the others, it leaves him feeling...he isn't sure, what the words to describe it would be. Unmoored, maybe. ]

Not now. But... [ Fuck. There's too much he doesn't understand about this world. Jaskier has not ever asked to be involved in any of this. Just to travel alongside a friend. Some part of Geralt wants to keep him out of this as much as possible. Jaskier has also known him for years. Isn't an idiot, either, despite how often Geralt calls him one. He's under no illusion the bard won't catch on that something is amiss, between the two of them, eventually. ] He'll realize in time we're keeping from him.

[ Ciri's eyes on Geralt are steady, searching, waiting for his answer even if he needs a moment. She trusts him.

All of them have kept her safe on the Continent. Here, none of them know her, but Yennefer and Geralt have already made it clear that nothing has changed in that regard here. Jaskier, she hasn't had as much time to speak with, but she has trouble believing he would put any of his friends in danger no matter the difference of years. They should all trust they can keep one another safe, and to do that, they should be on the same page.

Besides. Jaskier's going to have some questions when (if) she ever gets her abilities working and pulls him across worlds.

Some of the tension in her shoulders eases. Ciri nods, grateful. ]

You're right. Let's get the lay of the land here first. I will think on it.

[Normally bustling among the locals would've left Jaskier in high spirits, but by the time he's returning to their room with a small bundle in his hands, he's somehow even more thoroughly exhausted than before. Oh. Actually, that might be the wine settling in him.

He opens the door and pushes it wide with a shoulder, closing and locking it with a yawn out of mere habit.]

Now I know you're both feeling like right pricks, as you should, but I did bring you gifts nonetheless.

[And certainly tomorrow, exhaustion or not, he will need to perform. It certainly isn't his first time. As he kneels in front of them and unearths his bundle tied up in a handkerchief, there's a new bottle of wine, already opened for him, and several oranges, and most of another loaf of bread with raisins in it.]

I, ah, recommend not going downstairs for a bit. But it all works out. We need our sleep.

[The bread may have been a bit hard-won. It wasn't so much thrown at him as it... went missing before it could be launched anywhere.] I am ending this night drunk, or so help me.

[ Jaskier's footsteps are audible from the moment he places his boot on the first stair. Geralt falls quiet as a result. He did, in fact, hear Jaskier's voice in some of the rabble downstairs. He also decides he doesn't need to know and says nothing when the bard appears in the room. If they need to avoid some drunkards who'll hardly remember their own name by sunrise, they'll manage.

He takes an orange. The rest he leaves between the two of them. Geralt has survived on far less, was created to survive on less, and mostly beyond that: he's too damn tired to eat. He wants to sleep, but he isn't about to do so until Jaskier and Ciri are finished. ]

I'll get us more tomorrow.

[ It's a quiet acknowledgement that Jaskier has done enough. He isn't certain how Jaskier is feeling, in truth. Rare, that he hasn't got a complete read on the bard, but. He senses something not quite right (and why would it be, after everything?) He just doesn't precisely know what it is. Sleep might be all that's needed to solve it, though, so he leaves it alone for now. See where they're at come morning. ]

Thank you, Jaskier.

[ Ciri offers him a tired smile. Seems the bard has the right idea.

The raisin bread draws her immediate interest, and Ciri breaks off a large chunk for herself, ready to finish off the night with a full belly at the very least. And enough wine to make sure she doesn't wake up until she's good and ready to the next day. ]

[Geralt's offering is quite obvious to Jaskier, and since he's never been in the habit to insist the Witcher eat more than he takes, he says nothing about it. An orange and wine is better than going without either.

His gaze tracks to Ciri. The thanks is much more than he's ever grown used to in his current company, so for now, he forgives her for snapping earlier. Perhaps it really is just hunger and exhaustion.]

Think nothing of it. [He returns to his spot with another chug of wine, setting the empty bottle aside, and peels an orange. As he makes his way through it, slice by slice, he slides slowly down, more relaxed and more exhausted by the second. Somewhere between his fourth and fifth yawn, Jaskier's eyes close and he curls up on his side, head pillowed on an arm.

At this point, it doesn't matter where he rests anymore.]

[ Even without listening to the steadying of their heartbeats, it's easy to tell when Jaskier and Cirilla both begin to slip away. He watches them eat and drink; reaches out to catch the remainder of the orange slipping from Jaskier's hand before it hits the ground. It's his first night, he realizes, outside of a cell. No bars. No guards. No cellmates to ignore. Most of all, he can hear again when someone approaches. If there's anyone outside their room, approximately how many are downstairs. The opening and closing of a door each time patrons come and go.

He pops the rescued orange in his mouth: not by slice, just the entire quarter that's left. What's there of the bread gets eaten, too, now that the two of them are asleep. With Ciri's head on his shoulder, he decides not to move until he's certain she won't wake. He lets himself doze instead. Couple hours. Then he wakes. Jaskier's still sprawled on the ground, Ciri's still snoring away beside him.

A moment of hesitation passes. Examining how he feels is not where he wants to be right now. Or at any moment, but especially not now, in the late hour. So he doesn't let himself think twice about it as he carefully scoops Ciri up and carries her over to the bed. The blankets are worn, but they are clean. They're tucked around her while he tries not to dwell on how exactly he took her to Kaer Morhen. What happened along the way, what happened afterwards. Where that scar came from. (It looks like a blade, not a claw.)

He drops one of the blankets on top of Jaskier, too, on his way towards the windows that overlook the city below. He pushes it open to get some—not fresh air, but. Air, at least. A breeze, to offset the warm night. Sunrise can't come soon enough. He wants the distraction of something to do, of places to look for, supplies to search out. Eventually, the room is stifling enough he winds up on the eaves outside altogether. It's where he stays, right up until Jaskier stumbles out to find him. ]

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WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!

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