[ The earth pitches beneath their feet. Screams rise in the air; light flashes, unclear whether by spells or explosions. Ciri ducks under a swinging blade, barely registering the owner (it isn't intended for her), dashing toward the glimpse of familiar white hair, the flash of silver.
There. ]
Geralt!
[ She sees him first. Then, she sees the Thornean mage (at least she thinks they're one of the Crown's), the threads of magic. Rage roils in her belly, instant, white-hot.
The earth beyond them is already crumbling, the Singularity expanding its crater. In the chaos, it doesn't matter anymore. Who sees, who cares--
Something tugs at the back of her mind, like a promise. A sense of safety, of understanding without words. Certainty.
We will get out of here.
There is something she can do.
As other cloaked strangers (mages? military?) begin to close in, Ciri Blinks away, reappearing right in their midst beside Geralt.
Together.
She opens her mouth. The glow of gathering Chaos shimmers around Ciri, spilling onto him.
When she screams, she isn't afraid; she wields the rage as a weapon, an extension of her blade, sharp as steel and just as unyielding.
Bodies rend beneath it, spraying blood into the smoke-choked air. The earth trembles and cracks. Ciri pushes Geralt behind her, groping for his wrist. She doesn't know where her sword has gone. She doesn't need it.
She screams again, shattering rock and bone. The crater swallows them all, atomizing the native Abraxans caught in its growing maw.
She keeps holding on as they fall, for as long as she can. ]
no subject
There. ]
Geralt!
[ She sees him first. Then, she sees the Thornean mage (at least she thinks they're one of the Crown's), the threads of magic. Rage roils in her belly, instant, white-hot.
The earth beyond them is already crumbling, the Singularity expanding its crater. In the chaos, it doesn't matter anymore. Who sees, who cares--
Something tugs at the back of her mind, like a promise. A sense of safety, of understanding without words. Certainty.
We will get out of here.
There is something she can do.
As other cloaked strangers (mages? military?) begin to close in, Ciri Blinks away, reappearing right in their midst beside Geralt.
Together.
She opens her mouth. The glow of gathering Chaos shimmers around Ciri, spilling onto him.
When she screams, she isn't afraid; she wields the rage as a weapon, an extension of her blade, sharp as steel and just as unyielding.
Bodies rend beneath it, spraying blood into the smoke-choked air. The earth trembles and cracks. Ciri pushes Geralt behind her, groping for his wrist. She doesn't know where her sword has gone. She doesn't need it.
She screams again, shattering rock and bone. The crater swallows them all, atomizing the native Abraxans caught in its growing maw.
She keeps holding on as they fall, for as long as she can. ]