abraxaslogs | 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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[ 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. ]

WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!

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