[ She turns on her side, tucking a pillow under her head to watch him. As she listens, her brow knits deeper and deeper, and she knows there's context she's missing. She knows Ciri is a princess, and she knows Ciri has incredibly unique, powerful abilities. But mutation? ]

I don't understand, experimentin' for what? [ She is visibly appalled, as much as she had been by hearing about what they did to make Witchers. But that's not what Ciri is. ] Wasn't Ciri born the way she is? They think they can just... make another her?

[ Julie is struggling to rein in the disgust this development stirs in her. It's not hers to feel, it's in a world she will likely never see. Her feelings do nothing except weigh everyone here down.

But there's a special circle in Hell just for this kind of shit.

She makes herself focus on him instead, her eyes wide and searching his face. It is a bit disarming, to hear the doubt in his voice. Geralt is someone Julie trusts entirely in a fight, at least against a single other person; it's hard for her to imagine someone powerful enough to defeat him in such a way. She doesn't want him to bring that doubt and carry it here in Abraxas. ]

I'm sorry. That you had to go through that. [ Gently, she touches his cheek. She really is sorry, in that sympathetic sort of way. Seeing him in pain, emotional or physical, is its own sort of heartache. ] We're gonna figure it out, how to make Abraxas stick to us. You'll never have to go back for real.

[ Not that she thinks it wasn't real. It both was and wasn't, she thinks. Two timelines, two Geralts, and the other one is bleeding over in dreams. Maybe if they learn how to tie themselves to Abraxas permanently, the dreams will stop. ]