[ 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]

[ 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. ]

[wiedzminka]

[ 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. ]

This is a fine blade.

[gynvael]

[ While Ciri gets a feel for her new blade, Geralt leans against a pillar in the square, watching. He hasn't got much doubt it'll be up to par; the smith has done well with his, and he expects she'll do well with Ciri's. His gaze is critical, anyway, as he studies how Ciri handles it. If the weight settles right in her grip and when she turns the weapon.

Satisfactory, he thinks. Ciri feels the same. The smith looks pleased with the compliment, even if her reply is a confident, Of course it is.

Geralt drops the remainder of the payment into her outstretched palm. It's a little more than what's owed for a single sword—the reason for which becomes apparent when she gives him one more thing in return. It's smaller, sheathed in leather: a silver dagger, not especially intricate in its design but as well-crafted as the sword. A snarling wolf head is engraved in the pommel. He's noticed the medallion Ciri has given herself inside the Horizon. (Sometimes it strikes him all over again how much Ciri simply belongs in Kaer Morhen.)

He holds it out for her to take. ] You shouldn't go hunting without any silver.

[wiedzminka]

[ As Ciri sheathes her new weapon, holding it at her side until she can get a baldric fitted, she watches Geralt pay the bladesmith. She'll pay him back, Ciri thinks. She'll be able to pull her own weight now. And start saving up for--

Ciri blinks. Geralt is turning toward her now, holding something. A dagger.

She steps forward to take it in her free hand, eyes wide when she sees the wolf. ]

Geralt...

[ Her voice wavers, just a tiny bit, throat suddenly gone tight. She blinks again. Then smiles, soft and sincere, all the way to her eyes. ]

Thank you, Geralt. I'll rely on it.

[gynvael]

[ He peers at her, considering if she'll think it too much. Gift giving is not something he normally does, and even now, he almost wants to think of it as a matter of practicality even if...there's more to it than that. But it's true neither of them can afford to have a silver sword forged. So a dagger will do in the meantime.

Perhaps a steel dagger for Jaskier in the future. Just in case.

He smiles back, a rare one that's a little more than a subtle curl to his lips. ] We'll ride when you're ready.

[ He knows she'll need a couple more pieces of gear. But this is a good start. And then they'd see what they could find out there, if anything, about Mal. ]