[ CLOSED ] when I'm like this, you're the one I trust

[cointosser]

Who: Jaskier, Ciri, Geralt, eventually Sam?
When: First week of October
Where: The desert outskirts of Cadens
What: Jaskier attempts to help Ciri learn magic with disastrous results.
Warnings: Bodily injury, may move to mild body horror depending.



[With the climate they found themselves in, it only made sense for them to really embrace their new... eccentric talents. At least, that was what Jaskier tells himself, and when he tells himself it -- regarding Ciri, in particular -- it all makes sense, of course. If they are all gifted with magic, then it only makes sense to make use of it.

After all, it's free. And they need skills to make a living off of. As far as he understands, Ciri is, er, well. Like Geralt. A hunter.

Magic, hunting. It all fits together.

Okay, fine. He's terribly bored also. And he's tired of being the only one with magic around here. (He's still avoiding the whole plant thing. He prefers not to think about it, actually.]

All right, my dear. I -- well, I don't claim to know many, er, spells, but we can start on what I started on. Simply a little bird. [He, of course, adds a completely unnecessary flourish to his movements, and a bit of sparks, holding out his hand with a dove sitting on his palm.]

It's a bit hard to describe. I sort of... imitated watching it, I suppose.

[He sort of definitely wants to see Ciri try to imitate his flourish.]

Comments

[gynvael]

[ Geralt eyes her a bit, in case she tells him she isn't interested in eating. Thankfully, she doesn't, so he slides it over to her and sticks a spoon in it alongside some bread as a way of offering. If her appetite exists, she must be feeling all right. ]

Landlady, he said. She had some to spare.

[ He's not questioned it. He's accepted by now that people are simply willing to do favours for Sam, for one reason or another, and in a sense, he gets it. Besides. No reason to complain about the benefits. ]

Seems we're welcome for a few days. [ Or, as long as they're willing to stay, but a few days is about as far as Geralt is willing to commit. There's an implicit question in that statement as he glances at Ciri: whether she'd rather stay here or if she wishes to return to their own place instead. Geralt has found easy footing with Sam over the few months they've known each other, but he knows Ciri has not, and Jaskier is well enough to move if need be. ]

[wiedzminka]

[ Food is somewhat of a necessity, annoyingly enough. Ciri prefers to enjoy it when she can, but sometimes a body just needs to eat to keep moving. She isn't expecting much. She sits at the table when Geralt offers the bowl to her, dragging it closer to break off a chunk of bread and dip it in the cold broth.

Geralt's declaration (offer? question?) is met with silence for a few moments, which Ciri fills with chunks of bread unceremoniously being shoved into her mouth with her fingers, spoon ignored.

Finally, she looks up again and asks with a sort of exasperated bluntness Geralt might recognize if he's self-aware enough for it: ]

Why?

[gynvael]

[ Geralt reaches for an apple and a block of hard cheese himself. Silence settles over them, which he makes no effort to break or acknowledge, just waits for her to answer as she will.

He is not, in fact, currently in the mood to self-examine, but he at least recognizes her tone for what it means. There's certainly no lack of commonality in how he replies, casual but pointed. ]

Are you asking why we're welcome or why I've accepted?

[ Because the first is simple to answer; the second less so. Though he'd rather answer neither. Not that he's surprised Ciri is asking. Trust has never been his strength. It isn't Ciri's, either, it appears. ]

[wiedzminka]

Both. [ Ciri replies without hesitation.

She looks to Geralt for safety and comfort, for someone to rely on. He's here, and the fact he's here takes such a weight off her shoulders even with everything already crushing her down despite it. Geralt is her constant.

If he trusts Sam, she will trust Sam. Has trusted Sam. But it's also... strange. She doesn't understand why Sam had been willing to vouch for her back on Thorne and try to get her out of the dungeon. She doesn't understand why Sam has opened his home not only to Jaskier (who is easy friends with most people) and to Geralt (someone he's apparently on good terms with since before she arrived in Abraxas) but also to her. Why Geralt allows it, like it's a perfectly normal thing, like they're old friends. Jaskier is healed enough now to leave, so it isn't out of necessity. They aren't out of options, choosing allies where they must.

Geralt has chosen Sam. The way he's chosen only a handful of others. Someone safe. A place to rest. ]

You really trust him, don't you?

[gynvael]

I do. [ A long pause passes. Geralt carefully slices down the center of the block of cheese. He can't bring himself to get into it with Ciri, exactly what happened in those tunnels all those months ago. He's barely told Jaskier, either. It also isn't the real reason why he's here, why Sam occupies a place with him not often granted to anyone else. It's— ] He trusts me.

[ Yeah. Sam's helped, was always there when Geralt needed him and sometimes when he didn't, but that's not altogether unusual. Sam does that with everyone.

What he's learned Sam does not do with everyone is ask for help in return. But he's asked it of Geralt. Sam had leaned on him to look for Bucky, came back again to ask him to search for Mal. Geralt had said Come north in the Horizon to a man who hadn't felt like a stranger, expecting nothing of it, and Sam had thanked him after, had told him that the invitation had been important to him.

So he does trust Sam. But more than that, Sam has, for whatever reason, decided to trust him, too, when the man is hardly in short supply of friends and allies. When Geralt knows he doesn't make it easy, when he's long grown used to wariness and suspicion from everyone he meets. He thinks Ciri might understand, because it's not unlike the reason he allowed Jaskier in all those years ago. Plenty have asked, Why the fuck do you keep bothering to get him out of trouble? And though Geralt will never admit it openly, the simple truth is that it's because Jaskier trusts him to do so. ]

[wiedzminka]

[ For a few moments, Ciri holds his gaze. She listens, both to his words and his silence, to the way his hands move, slow and careful, intent on every movement.

He trusts me.

Ciri turns back to her bowl of stew, finishing off her bite of bread and then picking up the spoon. She doesn't ask what has happened between them; she knows that Geralt was trapped in Thorne's dungeons for weeks before she was, and he never really told her about that time, nor does she expect him to. She doesn't intend to pry into matters he would keep to himself. What happened doesn't matter.

It's the result that does. The fact that they are here, and Geralt trusts Sam to watch his back. And hers, too. To do what needs done. Sam seems the type to act the hero in whatever situation he can, but if Geralt thinks he is reliable and will do as Geralt asks when it comes down to it, then that's what Ciri will take from this conversation.

Those words are enough to reassure her, and Ciri doesn't ask again. ]

Doesn't much matter to me where I sleep. Besides, Alina seems in need of company.

[ Ciri says, as if it's just Alina. ]

[gynvael]

[ There's a moment where Geralt isn't certain if that's enough, if his explanation makes any real sense to Ciri. Doubt never stops lingering under the surface when it comes to her; she knows him, a version of him, for many years, but Geralt knows no version of her at all other than this one. A few months. Hard not to feel as if—he can't always understand her as well as she might wish.

But Ciri, too, trusts him when she has every reason not to, and something in him relaxes a little when she accepts his answer.

Geralt sticks the cheese he sliced off in his mouth. Alina brings the slightest twinge to him; Mal is her closest friend and he'd been searching for the young man before all this. He'll return to it when he can, but—the chances grow slimmer every day that he'll find anything worthwhile.

Still. It's true the company's done some good. For both Ciri and Alina both. ]

She was glad to hear you were in the city.

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri knows. It's been too long. They have no leads. But--

She swallows, looking away when Geralt says that, feeling... useless. And sad. She hadn't even been able to hold things together while Geralt was gone. ]

Take me with you. [ Ciri says instead of answering, looking back up to meet his eyes. ] When you go back out to look for him.

Let me help.

[gynvael]

[ Geralt meets her gaze in return. Considers it. It's not the danger of it—he's agreed for her to come with him on a contract, once she's armed; he can recognize the genuine confidence she holds around a weapon and that's enough for him—but the sheer futility of it. He has, for some days now, stopped necessarily looking for Mal as someone he can bring back whole and more for why and how Mal is no longer here. Even if he doesn't think Mal can be found, or at least not...found alive, he does think Sam and Alina deserve answers.

When his reply comes, it's softened—for him—but no less honest. ]

What we might find, it's unlikely to be good news.

[ He isn't saying no. He gets it, that itch to do something, anything. Especially when such a core part of her, her magic, left her feeling out of control. He just wants to make sure she understands what they're heading into. ]

[wiedzminka]

[ The way Ciri holds his eyes is steady, unflinching. She's not saying this as some kid who just wants to help for the sake of it. The urge is there both for Alina's sake and for her own -- to do something, to make an effort, to have a goal in the near future even if that goal turns up nothing but bad news or questions. She doesn't seem to really carry enthusiasm for it; just determination. ]

I am aware.

I can handle it.

[ Even if they find his half-chewed-up corpse out in the desert. In truth, that would be better than not finding him at all because at least Alina and Sam would have answers. ]

[gynvael]

[ He studies her for a few moments more before he nods. Her magic needs attention, after what happened, but there's nothing he can do about it on his own. They need...Yennefer. And Geralt doesn't know how the fuck to reach her. Is beginning to grow exasperated, if not altogether angry, that Yennefer is putting her distaste towards him above reaching out to Ciri when she should know Ciri wants to see her.

(His feelings have more than only to do with Ciri, but as always, Geralt has stubbornly avoided speaking of Yennefer at all.)

He can offer Ciri this, though. So he will. ]

You'll need a blade of your own. [ The apple crunches between his teeth. ] If we commission one tomorrow, she'll have it ready by next week.

[ There should be enough coin. He's satisfied with the smith he'd found, after a couple of weeks with his own sword. ]

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri had been all right with waiting, prioritizing spending their funds on Geralt getting his gear first so at least one of them could work, and it made sense it would be him. It'd be a lie to say she wasn't frustrated by the inability to join him right away and be able to contribute in a way she felt was actually useful, doing something she was actually skilled with-- but until now, it hadn't really bothered her more than a necessary annoyance.

After this though, the need to feel a sword in her hands and some semblance of control -- to have something she can do and feel confident doing -- is suddenly overwhelming.

Ciri had been ready to argue her case; she's immensely relieved she won't have to. Geralt seems to understand.

Of course he understands. ]

Tomorrow it is.

[ Though next week feels like a long time from now, Ciri understands it will take time to forge a good blade. And frankly, if they're being grimly honest, it's unlikely Mal will turn up alive whether they leave tomorrow or in a week.

It still feels better than doing nothing. ]

...Sam's landlady bequeath any liquor upon him alongside this feast?

[gynvael]

[ Tomorrow. It'll give them both something to do, to step away from this place and into the market. Part of him can't help but feel the walls pressing in. Doesn't matter how accommodating Sam is; Geralt's far more used to being alone in vast spaces.

As for liquor— ]

No. [ He reaches into a cupboard to remove a bottle of vodka. It's topped up enough, but the cork's pushed in half-heartedly, as though someone's clearly already gotten into it and intends to do so again soon. (It's him. He's someone.) Geralt offers it to her. ] But I did.

[ He may or may not have slipped into the tavern next door some time last night or early this morning. Eating all of Sam's food is one thing, but drinking all of the man's liquor feels a step too far. ]

Think the bard could use some now that he's learned he's not to attend his own burial? [ He isn't asking Ciri how she is or how Jaskier is doing; he heard it, their talk, and Ciri understands that he has. That she will be all right given some time. There isn't much to discuss past that, and he especially doesn't want to make her go over that conversation a second time with him. Jaskier imagining he's been dead this entire time, though—honestly. What the fuck. ]

[wiedzminka]

[ That's more like it. Ciri raises her eyebrows at the bottle, something like amusement crossing her face that almost makes it into a smile. She reaches for it gratefully and unceremoniously takes a swig; it burns all the way down, makes her eyes water, and she comes up for air with a shudder and a gasp. ]

That's the stuff. [ She sets the bottle down with a thud between them on the table. ] Better than I expected it to taste.

[ Geralt's quip about Jaskier's misconception actually earns him a snort of laughter. Ciri shakes her head, chasing up the vodka with the rest of her bread. ]

We could all use it, I think. But-- shit. [ Ciri rakes her hands through her bangs, shoving them aside. ] I can't believe he just walked around miserable over something so ridiculous for weeks.

[ In fairness, if he'd been right, and he'd asked-- what would she have even said? What can she tell them? Is the future set in stone? Is destiny?

Ciri swears under her breath and reaches for the bottle again. ]

[gynvael]

[ A small smile tilts his lips. At least she finds the liquor satisfying, and she's eating. That's the extent of what Geralt's hoped they'd manage. ]

I'm sure he's pleased he's as obnoxiously famous as ever.

[ He's making light of the whole incident; it's easier to do so. Something about Jaskier's presumption, atop his recent near-death experience, reminds him that Jaskier is. Human. Which he's obviously aware of, it's just—in general, he prefers not to consider it. The knowledge that there will be a time when Jaskier is no longer here.

Ciri curses, and Geralt wonders if they share a similar thought. The moment the vodka is free from her grasp, he takes it, too, for a swig. It's been a quiet day so far. With luck, it'll stay that way. ]

[wiedzminka]

Mmh. I'm sure.

[ At least as far as Ciri knows. She just shrugs and grunts in vague assent, sopping up the broth from her stew with a fresh slice of bread. The magic may have healed and given her energy before, but her stomach now reminds her after those few gulps of vodka that she's barely eaten anything the last couple days. The heat of the liquor in her belly is already traveling up to her head. At least, it feels that way.

Her limbs seem suddenly heavy, and when she finishes her bowl, Ciri rests her arms crossed on the table, leaning far onto them so she's slouched over halfway across the tabletop.

For a while, she lets the silence stretch out, occasionally taking drinks when Geralt isn't. ]

All that... [ she sighs suddenly, dropping her forehead onto her arms. ] And he still insists he'd like to help me practice controlling my magic.

[gynvael]

[ Geralt, for his part, alternates between drinking and watching Ciri with mild concern. They could all use a week of sleep, couldn't they? He's aware it's been six months or so on this sphere, but it's beginning to feel both a full decade and no time at all.

He snorts. Is he surprised to hear that? No. Not one bit. Though he thinks Jaskier would be helpful around her when they aren't actively slinging spells. He's...

Heartfelt. At least can distract her with his fucking awful humour.

But there's someone else who might actually be able to talk Ciri through what the fuck is going on. And now that they've broached the topic, Geralt can't sidestep it any longer. So he takes another drink and sets the bottle down. ] Are you able to reach Yennefer?

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri doesn't move, except to bring her other arm over to rest her cheek upon, facedown in the crook of her elbow. She sighs, both audibly and visibly, shoulders slumping. ]

No.

I looked. This morning. But... she hasn't made her own piece of that other plane yet.

[ For a moment, Ciri hesitates, the way her voice wavers hanging onto the end of that sentence like she might say more. It takes a minute before she actually gets to it. She has to summon up the energy to lift her head back up, arms crossed on the table in front of her and eyebrows creased uncertainly. ]

When I couldn't find anywhere that seemed hers, I looked through the rooms in Kaer Morhen. In case she had one, like I do.

I found something. But I think it was left for you. It was, er... in your room.

Sorry for prying. Did you receive any other notes from her? I haven't been able to speak with her since that first time, so I have no idea--

[ Ciri pauses again, trying to gather her thoughts, growing increasingly slipperier in her head. She sniffs, and realizes with a bit of a shock that her eyes are watering. ]

I will not ask after your private matters, but if you've talked to her at all recently, please tell me.

[gynvael]

[ No. Yen would not have. A part of him suspects she's not been inside the Horizon since their last meeting. He knows her. No matter what, he always knows her. He gets it. He does, but this is no longer about him. This is about Ciri, who's been searching for Yennefer and cannot fucking find her and now looks like her heart is breaking in two. She looks young. Younger than she ever has before. And maybe it isn't fair, maybe he should recognize that Yennefer can't possibly understand what she means to this girl who's only spoken to her a handful of times—Geralt barely understands it himself, and he's been alongside Ciri for the past two months—but the flash of anger that surges through him is not a rational one. A bitterness, marinated over decades in the memories of a mother that did not return for him, tinges its edges.

His fingers curl and uncurl around the edge of the kitchen table. He tries not to think about the implications behind Ciri believing Yennefer might have a place in Kaer Morhen. They obviously have a different relationship, in Ciri's time, and it makes everything twice as complicated. Expectations where Geralt does not want to have any.

Yennefer is working towards her own ambitions in Thorne. For Ciri's sake, for her own, whatever it is she is telling herself these days, he doesn't give a fuck. Doesn't want to care. The last time they spoke in the Horizon is the last time he will let himself sink into what he knows he isn't meant to have. He moved on a year ago, before this world forced her back into his life. He intends to move on again.

When he finally turns to Ciri, his expression is careful. His brows knit together. ] Ciri, I can promise you if I knew anything about Yennefer, I'd have told you immediately. When I last saw her, she had no memories. [ And yet. She had found her way to him. Lingered around him with an instinctive familiarity. (It's not real.)

He hesitates. I found something. He shouldn't ask. He shouldn't—both because he doesn't want to know and because it will imply Geralt's not seen whatever it is Ciri has found. That he's specifically not stepped into his room for the past month or so. ] What did you find?

[wiedzminka]

A-all right. Thank you. [ She believes him. That means Geralt hasn't seen her since Yennefer's first trip into the Horizon either, just like Ciri. It doesn't actually make her feel better, but at least she knows Geralt will tell her if he knows anything; if he had any inclination not to before, now she has his word.

She rubs the edge of her sleeve over her eyes. ]

A pendant. You haven't seen it yet?

[ She assumes this means it's a new token, that Yennefer has been by Geralt's room recently and he wasn't there. ]

There was a note, but it didn't include any information. Only said it was for someone important. A gift for you, I suppose...

I just wish she'd let us know how she's faring. That she's safe and out of the dungeons, at least. Can't she be a little less cryptic?

[gynvael]

[ He releases a breath. (Fuck. He wants to put Yennefer out of his mind. It's impossible to when Ciri needs her, when he knows, if Yennefer does not surface soon, he'll have to be the one to go in there to see how the hell he can find her and tell her Ciri has been looking all this time.) ]

No. [ His frown deepens. A gift. He gives a soft huff, not meant in reply to Ciri. Just. Of course. She had left behind a token, before vanishing completely. How very like her. Someone important. As if that meant anything now. It shouldn't matter. It doesn't.

He places a hand on Ciri's arm. The girl looks miserable. He can't assure her they'll find Yennefer, but he can assure her of one thing: ] She's not a prisoner.

[ He's almost certain of that. That she was able to enter that plane at all tells him she's maneuvered her way into most of Thorne's good graces. As far as he remembers, none who remained in Thorne were prisoners. They'd fled to Nott. Yen must've joined the ranks of those welcomed in order to be brought into the Horizon. And he's glad for that. That she's safe. But it also makes her silence sting that much more. ]

Her absence is not to do with you. [ He searches for a way to explain that isn't I fucked it up, and so did she and comes up empty. ] I'll see what I can do to contact her.

[wiedzminka]

[ Maybe chugging a bunch of vodka while she's upset isn't the best way to take care of her mental health. But fuck if Ciri knows that. She's just tired and sad and a little drunk now, missing Yennefer and feeling guilty and, frankly, a bit abandoned.

But Geralt is here. She looks at his hand over her arm. Again, she chooses to believe him. It's all she can do right now. ]

...all right. I'll let you know if I manage to reach her too.

I don't know if she can help, but... if anyone can... maybe. [ It's not just that. Ciri just wants to see her. Even if it makes her a bit afraid, too. It's hard not to overthink it when Yennefer has the means to reach out to them and clearly hasn't. ]

[gynvael]

[ Some of the tension leaves his shoulders, now that Ciri is no longer edging so close towards asking Geralt what may have happened between him and Yennefer. He's been trying to put it out of his mind. No doubt that's what Yennefer's done, too.

For a moment he thinks of asking, Did she ever help before? He doesn't. Ciri must've sought Yennefer for her magic, and yet it's Ciri herself who explained to him that she's not ever had full control over her Chaos. Whatever assistance Yennefer may have tried to provide the girl back home, back in her time, it's clearly not been enough. Not even after all these years. And he isn't sure it will be now, either, with the Singularity being an added complication. But that isn't what's important, in the end. What's important is that Ciri believes Yennefer might help, that there is someone out there she trusts who can help.

So Geralt decides not to question it. Not yet. She needs to even speak to Yen first. In the meantime, Geralt is here where Yennefer is not. He can't give her much guidance over her magic. But he can take her mind off of it, off of what happened, off Yennefer altogether, and he's at least beginning to learn how to do so with Ciri. ]

Why don't we go now? To see the smith. [ Still daylight out. The woman should be available for another couple hours. ] I could use some air.

[wiedzminka]

[ Geralt sure knows how to cheer a girl up.

Ciri sniffs again, rubbing her face, and nods with a touch more enthusiasm. For now, she puts the rest out of her mind. She's told Geralt what she can; he's promised her all that he can in return. After this, it will be up to Yennefer -- and Ciri will just have to keep checking in. She determines to ask the wolf in Geralt's domain to keep an eye out. She knows the beast is not entirely an animal, and if it can take messages for Geralt, then it can act as lookout too. Small steps, but even that is progress. So she reminds herself, and resolves to focus on what she can do.

Namely, get a proper weapon. Arm herself in a way she knows. No magic, just cold, hard steel.

Ciri wipes her mouth and pushes off the table with both hands, standing quickly. ]

Me too.

[ The sooner the better.

As it turns out, the afternoon air -- cooler lately, though not nearly as cool as the season should be -- does a lot to clear her head. ]

* * *

[ The meeting with the smith had gone well, as Ciri had known it would since Geralt had recommended the woman. But even if she were the most competent smith on the planet, one can only work so swiftly and still turn out a quality product.

Ciri has been impatient these last few days. She's spent her time outside more often than not, at the library or the market, poring over maps, gathering materials she'll need for longer trips outside the city. As promised, she consults with some apothecaries and provides Jaskier with ointments and strict instructions, relieved to see him regaining his strength quickly. But the rest of the time is simply waiting.

Until the day she'd been promised a finished blade. ]

Geralt. Let's go.

[gynvael]

[ 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. ]