[ She does look brighter, happier than she's looked in days, fresh and barely-subdued energy in her steps. Ciri will wait for Geralt to finish his food, but only barely, before she's bounding out the door and into the morning crowds.
It's not as though this will fix everything. A sword won't close the gap between her and Yennefer; it won't bring Mal back; it won't undo the damage she's done to Jaskier or help her control her dangerous powers; it won't bring them closer to figuring out how to get back to their proper times and places. But it will make her feel better. And it will make her more useful.
And for that, Ciri is suddenly brimming with anxious eagerness, desperately wanting to feel-- complete might be the word for it. She hasn't spent so long without a proper weapon in years. Even if the city doesn't call for its necessity on a day to day basis, she's still felt out of sorts, itching to train and practice in the real world, not only in the Horizon.
When she thanks the smith and picks up the sword, Ciri knows immediately. The familiar feeling washes over her, relief and excitement, pulse quickening in her veins, fingers tightening on the hilt; and yet, she is also perfectly calm, concentrating on the weight and balance of the steel in her hands. She moves it from one palm into the other, fast but controlled, not swinging it around but testing with minute angles of her wrists how it feels in one position or another, then with both hands, making sure the grip is long enough and the blade is light enough to move exactly as she needs it to. Satisfied with the result, Ciri nods toward the smith with respect. ]
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It's not as though this will fix everything. A sword won't close the gap between her and Yennefer; it won't bring Mal back; it won't undo the damage she's done to Jaskier or help her control her dangerous powers; it won't bring them closer to figuring out how to get back to their proper times and places. But it will make her feel better. And it will make her more useful.
And for that, Ciri is suddenly brimming with anxious eagerness, desperately wanting to feel-- complete might be the word for it. She hasn't spent so long without a proper weapon in years. Even if the city doesn't call for its necessity on a day to day basis, she's still felt out of sorts, itching to train and practice in the real world, not only in the Horizon.
When she thanks the smith and picks up the sword, Ciri knows immediately. The familiar feeling washes over her, relief and excitement, pulse quickening in her veins, fingers tightening on the hilt; and yet, she is also perfectly calm, concentrating on the weight and balance of the steel in her hands. She moves it from one palm into the other, fast but controlled, not swinging it around but testing with minute angles of her wrists how it feels in one position or another, then with both hands, making sure the grip is long enough and the blade is light enough to move exactly as she needs it to. Satisfied with the result, Ciri nods toward the smith with respect. ]
This is a fine blade.