wiedzminka: (eight.)
ℭ𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 𝔬𝔣 ℭ𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔞 ([personal profile] wiedzminka) wrote in [community profile] abraxaslogs 2021-12-11 10:57 am (UTC)

[ There are a few more minutes of distraction, of trying to get through. Realization settling in. Understanding that it's too late now. It doesn't matter. (Maybe she doesn't matter, either.) Alina is right about one thing: she's not a child, and she's made her decisions now.

Ciri has no intention of riding across the desert to track her down. She could, perhaps. She could follow the wagon roads, find a fast enough horse to catch up when it's only a day or two's ride, well before they're anywhere near the border. If she left today, she's sure that she could do it.

But she won't.

Alina can go. Do whatever foolish thing she has in mind, whether or not it accomplishes anything (and Ciri suspects that it won't). This is Alina's journey now, and Ciri has not been asked to be a part.

It's just... she didn't expect it to hurt so much when she found out. ]


Thank you, Jaskier.

[ The ale is fresh and cold, a good pour. Wasted on her, as she takes long, desperate gulps, barely tasting the contents of her cup. Eventually, without coming up for breath until it's empty, she slams the mug down on the table next to the envelope.

Ciri stares at it again, not looking up at Jaskier when she speaks. ]


She's on her way to Thorne.

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