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

[gynvael]

[ When she finally relaxes, Geralt takes a step forward. He studies her for a second. ]

She's with me. [ It isn't a habit of his to announce where Ciri is, but seeing as they shared a cell and the girl's lightened at the news—they must've gotten along. He thinks Ciri could use...a friend? In the city. A familiar face.

(He's certain Cirilla makes friends better than he does.) ]

We're in Cadens. [ She must be, too, if she's out here nearby without a horse. ] Where all the shit taverns are.

[solmate]

You're her father.

[ That's how Ciri had explained it, but there was an air of complication with memories and fate crossing across time. Briefly, she wonders if she wasn't supposed to reveal that, but something both jealous and hopeful in equal measures couldn't help but grab onto the idea of her mother or father stumbling into this place.

Always searching for those, she practically hears Baghra sneer in her mind, although she knows the woman was just pushing her to be stronger, to let go of who she was. Is. Was.

(No point in trying to sort that out now.) ]

Us too. [ She nods quickly. Sam, Mal, Peter, and her all crammed together. It feels more like home than anything else recently. ] I've been mapping the area around it.

[ In case they have to leave or run, but she doesn't say that part out loud to jinx it. She tucks the maps into Mal's pack when he goes hunting even though she knows he doesn't really need him. His heart always guides him true. ]

[gynvael]

[ Her—

For a few seconds, he just stares: a visceral reaction that shows much too clearly on his face. He forgets the conversation altogether, forgets that he was about to put a name to her face (Alina)—the Alina Sam mentioned offhand when Geralt met him and searched for his missing friend Bucky. The Alina who out of nowhere has inadvertently told him that Ciri has spoken of him as her...

Ah. Shit. He looks away abruptly. It takes him another moment to get back on track. ]

He said you're with him. Sam Wilson. [ He lets himself piece together the connections, in favour of not dealing with—the other part. Which: this is important, too. It's beginning to register that their paths have all intersected from the start, without him realizing. Mal, whose name he's only recently learned. Sam had listed him off, as well. Meaning Alina must know Mal.

The breath he lets out is vaguely amused. Small fucking world, he'd say, except they were all trapped in Thorne's castle together. He flicks his attention to the parchment in her hand. Mapping. ] I'm Geralt.

[solmate]

[ It doesn't take a genius to realize the misstep.

He doesn't fight it, doesn't protest it or ask more questions, but Alina can tell it's not something that's been reconciled. Not that she can blame him, it's quite a reveal to be responsible for another person when there is already so much uncertainty and chaos here. She looks down, mouthing an apology that he probably doesn't even see.

She moves on. ]

Yeah. Sam.

[ She nods. He's been nothing but nice to Mal and Alina, giving of his time, domain, and now letting them stay with him so they have a safe place. She feels bad about not trusting him at first, but she's sort of had a bad streak of being a little too open to nice gestures lately.

But there's a web of connections here, weaving together to form something more solid and supportive that makes Alina ease. It's strange, she thinks, not being so completely on your own. She wonders if she'll get used to it. She wonders if she'll ever let herself use it.

Again, bigger questions than can be tackled today. ]

Alina.

[gynvael]

[ For the best, that Alina doesn't ask; Geralt hasn't got an inkling of how the hell he means to explain his reaction and frankly he doesn't want to talk about it, either.

So all he says about Ciri is, ] She'll want to hear you're around.

[ Knowing there are people here is complicated. He isn't used to it, these slowly winding connections that are beginning to attach to him, but he can't in all honestly claim it's unwanted. Maybe in the end, it just comes down to the fact that he doesn't know what to do with any of it.

He steers the topic towards more neutral territory. ] You said you were mapping?

[solmate]

[ A quick nod to close that conversation. Before she goes she'll have to ask what part of town Geralt and Ciri are settled in, but he seems otherwise content to move on. Alina, complicated history wrapping around herself, is happy to oblige the impulse not to say too much, catching up to the change of topic. ]

Yeah.

[ She nods, closing the distance a little bit to unroll her marked up parchment and smooth out all the places she had crinkled it so he can see the landscape she's mapped out so far. ]

I was a cartographer before... [ She stalls, but then realizes she doesn't need to. There are before's that don't concern Geralt. ] Before we got here. I guess I still could be one.

[ It's odd to consider how easy it could be to flee into an old life, an old story. She lets out a breath that sounds a bit like a soundless laugh. ]

Not that I was very good, but I got by.

[gynvael]

[ If he notices her brief pause—and he does—Geralt does nothing except make a quiet note of it. He steps forward now that she's invited him to look at her map, peering at it. A cartographer. ]

Looks a bit more than getting by.

[ Not that he knows shit about making maps, but he's read more than his share— whether it's a difference in advancement of technique between their worlds or simply a matter of skill, the rough sketch that she has, it says she knows what she's doing.

There's a spark of interest in his gaze. Maps had little use to him on the Continent. He's known it like the back of his hand—walked it for decades. This world is new. And as good as he is at getting a lay of the land simply by moving through it, a proper map isn't without its uses. ]

I came out to map. Just not as formally. How far have you gone?

[solmate]

[ Compliments are hard for someone who doesn't think of herself particularly skilled at anything. She makes a non-committal hum, tucking some hair behind her ear as she folds her map back up. Okay, perhaps she is at least a little adept at this. ]

Just a couple of miles following easier paths. [ She gestures towards the direction she had come from back towards the city. ] I'm just on foot.

[ Not like they can afford a horse. The infantry didn't train them to ride, either. ]

[gynvael]

I have a horse. [ For now. Geralt leans back against the tree behind him. ] Until sundown. She's yours—if I can make use of that map now and again when it's done.

[ It does not occur to him she hasn't been taught to ride. Nearly everyone in his world can ride. He figures she can do far more on a horse, mapping, than he could. Something that can actually be written down.

As long as she isn't late returning the mare. He doesn't need a pissed off stable hand pounding on his door in the middle of the night. ]

[solmate]

[ The genuine offer catchers her by surprise. She looks away, arms moving in front of her to a more guarded posture again. She isn't used to them, honest favors, and recently any kindness she's been extended has been a precursor to something much more sinister.

But this isn't a kindness— it's a trade, and one that she is actually quite competent and willing to fulfill her end of at that —and that abates her unease for the moment. ]

That's kind of you, but depending on her temperament I may be better off on foot. I can ride but it's not one of my strong suits. [ Or her medium suits. From the light way she speaks, she's clearly okay poking a little fun at herself. She's quick to add: ] Oh, you're still welcome to use the map of course. Any... friend of Ciri's would be.

[gynvael]

[ Cautious, isn't she? Not in a manner that's surprising nor unusual. Just something worth noting. Maybe something he finds familiar, that he sees a little of in Ciri, too.

His eyebrow lifts at friend. It's—he looks vaguely awkward for a second, before moving past the entire thing. ]

Come meet her. [ The horse, he means. The mare has been plenty easy to handle, but he's also been riding his entire life. Still, if temperament is all that Alina is concerned with—

He isn't without ways to tame a horse beyond simple handling. And here, in this world—he's noticed his Signs last a longer. ] I can ensure her temperament.

[solmate]

[ That makes her eyebrows lift. She's not sure how he can manage to ensure that, but if he's insistent... and maybe he'll change his tune and retract his offer once he sees her up in the saddle. ]

Well... It would go a lot faster if I had a horse.

[ She can probably manage not to fall off. She'll just be sore tomorrow after a day of riding. ]

[gynvael]

[ If she goes flying, he can catch her. Probably.

He gestures for her to follow, making sure she's coming along before he heads back where he came. It isn't far off—a bend around the grassy trail where a dappled grey mare is waiting.

He reaches for the reins. His hand settles on the horse's neck. She's calm enough as it is, but there's a sense of something settling in the horse's gaze, her flicking tail stilling and a whisper of magic in the air between his fingers.

He glances over his shoulder at Alina. Whatever he's done, he clearly isn't about to explain it unprompted. ] You'll have an hour or two before it wears off.

[solmate]

[ Alina follows rather obediently for once in her life. She stands back as he tends to the horse, rocking her weight to one side to watch as he does something to the horse. She quirks her brow in a question, but no answer comes aside from cryptic time.

She takes a few paces towards the horse, laying a hand on her muzzle. ]

Nice trick.

[ Stalling for time? Never. But she really does need to rip off this bandage. Quickly, she packs up her things into her satchel, securing it around her shoulder. She takes a steadying breath before hoisting herself up onto the mare. ]

You sure it'll hold?

[ Whatever... spell he's put over the horse. This is the type of magic people might think the Grisha could do, seeing it in person has her on the edge of curious and unnerved. Or maybe he's just a heartrenderer with an affinity for calming beasts. ]

[gynvael]

[ She can get on by herself, at least. She might not be the steadiest rider he’s ever seen, but she isn’t the worst. Not like she’s riding it into battle. He figures for a trot around the city’s edges, she’ll do fine.

Geralt peers at the horse. He can sense the question in Alina. She isn’t asking, though, so he doesn’t volunteer. Getting into what he is tends to be—complicated. And he’s used to not needing to explain himself, when the entirety of the world back home knows exactly who and what he is. ]

It’ll hold. [ He shifts his gaze up toward her. ] Like I said. Just bring her back to the stables in town.