[ There's a fine line, Geralt is discovering, between keeping an eye on someone and being overbearing. He has, since arriving in Cadens with Ciri, told himself that she's a grown woman who's earned her scars, who most certainly is not the girl who may have once needed his protection. It's largely worked. Geralt's kept to himself whatever hesitation he might feel about Ciri hunting alongside him or taking contracts of her own. But ever since the incident last week, ever since he's learned exactly how much Yennefer's absence has affected her—
He's been worried. Not exactly that it could happen again, but that Ciri is...That Ciri needs more than he's capable of. A part of him keeps searching for a way he can help, only he knows he can't. Not how she truly needs. And it's not the first time he's wanted to and failed to help someone. Hardly. It's only that this is the first time it feels so fucking important.
So it is for her, that Geralt has put extra coin towards Ciri's weapon to both encourage the smith to prioritize it and for something a bit more. But it's also that this is all he knows how to give.
Maybe it's not enough. He isn't sure. Still, Ciri shows up the morning of practically bouncing, and he can admit her eagerness settles some of the uncertainty he's felt. He turns around to face her with one eyebrow raised, a spoon stuck in his mouth and a bowl in one hand. There's fondness in his expression, though, even as he sighs and shovels the rest of breakfast into his mouth. ]
She's assured me your sword will not walk away if you don't retrieve it on the hour. [ It's only a gentle prod. He's already pocketing the key to their room and following Ciri out the door.
Fortunately, the smith isn't far. She seems to spot him from a distance; by the time he steps up to her, Ciri's weapon is already presented on the table. Geralt stands aside so Ciri can examine it—and because there's one more thing he wants to give her afterwards. Once they're both satisfied with the workmanship. ]
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He's been worried. Not exactly that it could happen again, but that Ciri is...That Ciri needs more than he's capable of. A part of him keeps searching for a way he can help, only he knows he can't. Not how she truly needs. And it's not the first time he's wanted to and failed to help someone. Hardly. It's only that this is the first time it feels so fucking important.
So it is for her, that Geralt has put extra coin towards Ciri's weapon to both encourage the smith to prioritize it and for something a bit more. But it's also that this is all he knows how to give.
Maybe it's not enough. He isn't sure. Still, Ciri shows up the morning of practically bouncing, and he can admit her eagerness settles some of the uncertainty he's felt. He turns around to face her with one eyebrow raised, a spoon stuck in his mouth and a bowl in one hand. There's fondness in his expression, though, even as he sighs and shovels the rest of breakfast into his mouth. ]
She's assured me your sword will not walk away if you don't retrieve it on the hour. [ It's only a gentle prod. He's already pocketing the key to their room and following Ciri out the door.
Fortunately, the smith isn't far. She seems to spot him from a distance; by the time he steps up to her, Ciri's weapon is already presented on the table. Geralt stands aside so Ciri can examine it—and because there's one more thing he wants to give her afterwards. Once they're both satisfied with the workmanship. ]