abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] tell them that the villains on my list

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[ CLOSED ] tell them that the villains on my list

Who: Ciri, Jaskier, and others
What: Geralt has gone missing. Ciri and Jaskier are on the case.
Where: Around Cadens, the desert outside it, perhaps the other Free Cities; possibly Horizon and Network
When: Mid-November
Warnings: violence, gore, dismemberment

If you'd like to plot out a thread, please PM Ciri or Jaskier's journals, or catch us on Plurk at

belleteyn and

scathefire respectively!

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[ As soon as Jaskier reached out to her, Ciri had run out to Sam's, barely pausing to write a quick note to Rinwell and leave it on the table for her just in case she ends up staying at Sam's all night. Or longer. She'll have to thank the girl properly later, for all her help and keeping a cool head while the rest of them were losing their minds with worry over Geralt.

Now, Ciri walks as quickly as she can manage without breaking into a full-on sprint through the darkened city streets. She arrives at Sam's breathless anyway, stomach all tied up in knots. Not thinking, she tries the handle before even knocking, ready to simply barge right in. ]

[ the deja vu that sam feels is fairly intense - with geralt passed out on his couch, jaskier having gone to sleep in one of the bedrooms, and sam, awake and doing his best to finish washing up, the small of magic and blood and general exhaustion thick in the air.

( it makes him miss alina, suddenly - how he doesn't need to be worrying about what he'd tell her, how her room is still empty, still how she left it. )

sam stops, suddenly, where he's drying his hands after scrubbing as much of geralt's blood from them as he could. should he message ciri? she should know, shouldn't she? sam makes the decision to do it, too, just as she opens his door (because yes, it was unlocked) to find a breathless ciri, eyes wide. that...honestly feels about on par. ]

He's asleep. [ sam offers softly, just in case the vision of geralt face down on the couch with bloody bandages across his back might stress ciri out. he points to the couch for good measure, just in case she hadn't caught on yet. ] And Jaskier's passed out in the bedroom.

[ welcome...back...? ]

[ Ciri sweeps inside, barely remembering to shut the door behind her (quietly, at least, her eyes having immediately settled on the unconscious Witcher sprawled over the couch). She barely acknowledges Sam except with a look for now, moving immediately to Geralt's side, where she drops to her knees as much to reach him as out of the knee-buckling weight of relief dropping down on her with shocking suddenness. For all that she'd been telling herself these last few days that Geralt is safe with Julie and Nadine and on his way back soon, it's another thing entirely to see him here. Solid and real. Breathing, even if battered and bandaged.

She does not wish to wake him, but she can't help herself; the need to touch him overwhelms any urge for caution, as though she can't be entirely satisfied he's real until her fingers can confirm the solidity of his skin. Ciri settles on the floor, one elbow on the edge of a cushion stained with dry blood, her other hand gently brushing Geralt's temple, thumbing away more blood and dirt clinging to him still. With a quiet sigh, she lets her cheek fall on her folded arm, the tension rolling out of her shoulders and back leaving her slumped against the edge of the couch as if it's the only thing propping her up. ]

I could kill you myself, [ she mumbles, voice thick, and Sam might hear but the words are clearly not for him. Her hand drops away. Something catches her eye.

Dangling over the edge of the cushion on a familiar chain, Ciri notices the dim light from the fireplace flickering over not one but two circles of metal hanging from Geralt's neck. Carefully, she lifts them in her palm, thumbing aside the pendant Jaskier made for Geralt to reveal the other beneath it. At a better angle, it's clear the wolf's head medallion is silver-- and the way it sits in her hand, the weight and feel of it, there's something that almost seems to hum with a quiet, dormant power. The only reason she knows is because she's felt nothing like that here.

Breath catching, Ciri stares at it a long moment. It feels... real. Not just a disc of silver carved to look the same. It feels the same.

Several minutes pass like this before Ciri finally remembers Sam is in the room. She gently tucks both medallions underneath Geralt's shoulder so the chain won't pull at his neck, and finally, with great effort, pushes herself up to stand. Geralt gets another fretful pat on the head before she manages to step away.

Looking around at the room again, Ciri looks a little dazed, still struggling to get her bearings past the rush of relief and fresh uncertainty about what had happened between Geralt and Yennefer in Thorne. ]

How long has he...?

[ She trails off. Tries again. ]

You were able to talk to him before he went to sleep? [ Passed out cold, apparently. ] He seemed all right?

I mean, besides... all the wounds.

[ sam lets ciri have the space and time she needs, here, keeping off to the side, back near the door, as he lets her look geralt over in all of his glory. a part of him feels a bit guilty - for not cleaning up more, for not presenting the space as more put together. geralt still looked awful, truly, but the truth of the matter is that there hadn't really been time. and he's glad ciri came over when she had, as quickly as she had. she deserved to be here, and while he knew geralt hadn't wanted to go home for these specific reasons, sam wasn't going to be the one who left ciri in the dark.

his mind wanders a bit while she looks geralt over - to what's left to do, what he should do. things to clean, windows to open, cloth that he's not sure if he wants to drop down with magpie to clean or if he should just toss the lot of it - when there's a distinct moment he realizes ciri is asking him. sam blinks, bringing himself back. ] Oh, uh. Not long. He passed out while Jaskier and I were still cleaning him up, so not even an hour? [ sam...wishes he had a watch. that worked. still, that doesn't seem to be what ciri is actually asking, and when the questions do come, sam rubs a hand along the back of his neck. ]

Yeah, a little. He didn't make it long, though- Jaskier and I got him inside and started treating some of...that, and he kind of passed right out. [ with a little help from sam's magic, maybe. but it should say something that a calming spell put geralt right to sleep. but then she asks he seemed all right? and sam...he doesn't sigh, necessarily, but there is a slow exhale. ]

Honestly? It was a little hard to tell. He was beat to shit when he got here, and that's after someone got their hands on him first and did most of the legwork. [ julie and nadine, jaskier had told him. geralt had made it to nott, and julie and nadine had done their work on him. sam's eyes drift to geralt's form again, watching him sleep for another moment. ] He was conscious, and responsive, and knew where he was and how he got here, but he's been through some kind of hell.

[ to put it lightly. sam shakes his head. ]

He's going to be out for a couple hours, at least. [ a beat, and then- ] You want a drink? [ he says, moving over to the little kitchen area he's got going - which is now, thanks to jaskier and sam's dual searching, in a huge mess. ] I think I'm gonna have a drink.

Desperately.

[ Maybe like five drinks, in fact. Stiffly, Ciri ambles after Sam into the kitchen, casting glances back in Geralt's direction when she thinks Sam isn't looking. And a few times when he is.

She leans on the counter, shoulders slumped, head bowing low near her crossed forearms without quite burying her face in them. For a few moments, she just breathes, slowly letting the tension ease from the top of her spine downward. Geralt is breathing too, steady enough. ]

Tell me. Honestly. [ Ciri lifts her head again, meeting Sam's eyes. She doesn't look angry, not even really upset-- just tired, and serious. ]

How bad is it?

[ She suspects she knows why he'd reached out to Jaskier and not told her he was in the city again. Geralt may be trying to spare her seeing him heavily injured (as if she hasn't before), but him passed out swathed in bandages like a fucking shrouded corpse does not, in fact, look better. ]

What happened to his back?

[ sam gives a kind of snort when ciri answers him, nodding as he makes his way across the room. he knows she's still checking on geralt, still looking over to him, still wanting to check. it's part of why sam doesn't actually make to leave for a tavern, but instead reaches for a bottle of whiskey in his cabinets.

as ciri settles against the counter, sam busies himself with grabbing glasses, with pouring them both a drink. he sets her glass near her elbow - probably more full than it needs to be, but hey, sam thinks they all deserve a little more alcohol tonight - and takes a drink from his own as she lifts her head to him. asks the question.

he takes a moment to swallow, to let his eyes glance over to geralt's sleeping form. ]

Bad, but not as bad as it was. [ which is the most honest answer sam can give. ] Julie and Nadine did a lot, from the looks of it. He'll need more time than he thinks to recover, but none of it is lethal. [ he twirls the cup for a moment, watching the liquor swirl, before he exhales. ] As for his back, I honestly don't know. They're gashes of some kind, deep and long- they look almost like whip marks, but they're too deep for even that. It could be something magic, too, I guess, but I wouldn't be able to tell you one way or another. I stitched him back together, but it's going to take time, even with his Witchery-healing stuff.

[ sam, for a moment or so, considers if this is even the place to bring up his next question, but decides to ask it all the same. ]

Did you and Jaskier find anything out there? When you went looking for him?

[ Sam's heavy pour receives a grateful look. After a moment, Ciri straightens up just enough to grab the glass and take a long, bracing drink, the burn of it hitting her tongue and the back of her throat making her shudder.

She knows Julie and Nadine already patched him up once, helped him get back on his feet. What the fuck had happened after that? He was supposed to take a portal here, wasn't he? But Sam wouldn't know the answers to her questions, so Ciri doesn't bother voicing them.

It's just as well she doesn't have a real Witcher's fortified strength; the cup would shatter in her grip, the way her fingers tighten on it, knuckles straining. Ciri swallows down the rising fury along with that burning whiskey taste, letting out a hiss between clenched teeth. ]

It's always fucking men. [ Humans, she means. Gender nonspecific. It's always fucking other people. Witchers, created to fell monsters, repaid with violence as often as coin. Here, the context is not exactly the same-- but Ciri is just about as tired of mages and men as Geralt is.

It all just hits too close to home. ]

By magic or by hand, you don't get wounds like that in a fair fight. They tortured him. [ She says it bluntly, giving voice to the fact they all know by now. Sam's not an idiot. He can put two and two together. No one goes to the effort of capturing a man halfway across the continent to rough him up for no reason, and if they'd wanted to kill him, they'd have done it before he had the chance to run. No, Thorne wanted something.

And they knew about the connection (some connection, at least) between him and Yennefer. There aren't many logical leaps that need to be made from there, only a few reasons Ciri can think of why tormenting Geralt would have been worth snatching him from within the borders of enemy land.

What she doesn't know is how Yennefer had truly been involved. If she'd been just as blindsided as Geralt. If she's the reason he's here now, or--

Ciri takes another drink, finishing her glass on the second gulp. It's strong. She doesn't care.

The idea that she can't trust Yennefer, even a Yennefer who doesn't yet know her (but who still knows Geralt, still loves him, at least still cares for him) is far too painful to consider in any seriousness. It only makes sense if Yennefer had been taken by surprise or somehow outwitted. If she'd been foolish or overconfident. Not unthinking, not cruel. Not purposeful. She wouldn't. Ciri knows she wouldn't.

Lost in her own thoughts (fears), Ciri nearly misses Sam's question. It takes a full few seconds to register that Sam has said anything else, and another two to put the words together, realize she's meant to respond. Ciri stares into her empty glass, then shoves it across the counter at the bottle in a wordless request for more. ]

He was ambushed. Traces of a struggle, few signs he got to defend himself. We were able to ascertain magic was used in his capture, but no specifics.

[ She does not mention all the bodies left behind. ]

[ for a few moments, sam just watches ciri drink. part of him is concerned at the speed at which she tosses back the alcohol, wonders if this is a good idea at all or if he's led them down a path where they both (or just he) gets too drunk to be much help at all anymore, and if it will all be for naught. but at the same time, sam blinks, and sees the blood and tissue and open wounds on geralt's back. smells it, still hanging in his room. feels the exhaustion of his own magic being worked, his own energy being sucked, and then it's sam's turn to knock back the heavy pour he'd given himself, too. (he doesn't take it all down in one go, but the gulp he takes is impressive for him.)

it burns - hard and unforgettable - and sam needs a second to simply hold it down. ]

You're telling me. [ his voice is a little hoarse, when he says it, but she's not wrong. it's always men. it usually is. sam comes back to himself just in time to see ciri's hands tighten around the cup. enough time for him to wonder if she's going to simply shatter it under her hands.

when she mentions torture, though, sam just nods. yes, he was tortured. brutally, and meticulously, if the depth of the lashes were anything to go by. it makes sam sick, but he's not entirely sure if that is from the thought of it, or the whiskey in his stomach and the stench in the air. all the same, he brings the glass back to his lips. takes a breath and lets the burn of it run down his nostrils. ]

Thorne wanted information out of him- lord knows what could be that important that they'd risk...whatever consequences the Free Cities would give them if they found out. [ sam's stomach drops at the concept of it, of wondering if he needs to tell marlo what happened. he doesn't want to, doesn't exactly feel confident in what would happen as a result, but that's something for him to deal with. later.

sam barely notices that it takes a moment for ciri to recognize his question, lost to his own thoughts just as well, but when she pushes the glass across the table for a refill, he obliges without hesitation - filling her glass a second time. ]

Must have been a hell of a fight [ sam frowns at the idea of it. did they track him? were they following, waiting for their moment? should one of them been out with him? would that have done anything at all? he's seen the remnants of what geralt leaves behind in a fight, so he can only imagine what they would have had to do to get the jump on him. ] But that means they were looking for something specific. Something they don't already know, over in the castle, that Geralt would have. [ a pause, and then sam sighs. he's basically just thinking aloud, at this point. ] But what? And why him?

[ Sam is asking the right questions. The same questions Ciri is asking herself.

The difference is that Ciri knows, and Sam does not. Ciri knows what Geralt could tell Thorne, if they could dig it out of him (because he'd never give her up, and any tiny, bloody pinprick doubts she might have about Yennefer do not apply to Geralt, not if he had any choice or chance to stop it at all). But where she stumbles is the inability to understand how Thorne would have realized. And why they would come now.

It all comes back to Yennefer, doesn't it?

Ciri swallows down the curses crawling up her throat and drinks again. Her stomach turns, the drink too strong on so little food as she's had recently, the conversation too raw and personal to have with anyone who isn't Geralt himself, and Geralt fucking passed out half-dead not ten feet away.

There is only Sam. Only the silence between Geralt's strained breaths and Jaskier's muffled snores and the clink of the glass on the table. Only questions without answers. And, to top it all off, not even Alina to crawl into bed with afterward, to press her forehead between warm shoulders and curl up and sleep it off knowing she is not alone.

With a sigh, Ciri sets her glass back down and meets Sam's eyes. ]

Julie said Geralt told her it was because of someone on their court. It doesn't mean they were looking for information.

It could just as easily mean they were out to prove something.

[ sam knows that there is more between ciri and geralt and jaskier that he isn’t privy to. knows there is information and years and lifetimes that he might never know. but the things is - he’s not only used to that, but expects it. assumes (trusts) that if it had anything to do with him, that if he could help or it would affect him, they would let him know. and until that point, he has now and this to focus on, and that’s what he does.

and maybe because it’s ciri, but alina’s absence feels like a presence all its own. a specific hole, where neither of them bring words but they know. sam stares at his glass, at the ice at the bottom. if ciri made any mention to being hungry, sam would have some things to offer, but not much (the food will be a tomorrow problem, he thinks).

that point ciri makes, though, has sam’s eyes back to her. a frown, deepening. ] Who? [ and then sam’s eyes widen with a memory, a mention. ] Wait, is this all about that woman- god, what was her name? [ the question is directed at himself, at first, before he looks back over. ] Yennefer. Are you saying this is all about her? Or is there someone else in Thorne that would make Geralt a target? [ because that sets off all sorts of alarm bells - he knows very little about yennefer, has interacted with her even less, but what he does know he’s not exactly a fan of. though he is also very aware that where it concerns geralt, and probably ciri, it’s more complicated than that. ]

[ ...shit. Ciri didn't actually realize Sam knew Yennefer (or maybe just of her). She doesn't know exactly what Geralt's told him, but she's not about to go saying more.

Her jaw hardens, lips pressing together, and she only shakes her head. ]

I don't know. Ask him yourself when he wakes up. I'm only relaying what Julie told me because it's all the information anyone's got until Geralt wishes to discuss it. If he does.

[ That last is a warning, and clearly so, with that sharp look that accompanies it. Sam is not to push Geralt. Or he's going to have two unhappy witchers to contend with. ]

[ that is the thing, though, isn't it? because he doesn't really know yennefer. he knows she's important to geralt, knows that jaskier is not a fan of hers in any way, and that she's remained back in thorne. however, that sudden tension through ciri (which, somehow, is not the first time sam has seen it) tells him a whole lot more.

sam, aware that he's seemed to either have crossed a line or stepped on a landmine, lets up a bit. ]

Just thinking aloud. [ he tries to soften it a little. ] In the end, doesn't really matter. I'm just glad he's back. [ the warning is heard, and sam seems to almost nod at it. yes, yes, he knows - he's not forcing anywhere here to talk about things they don't want to. ciri's included in that.

he reaches for the bottle, offering to top her off if she wants more. ]

[ There is a beat of silent tension, as Ciri considers him, her thoughts still stuck on Yennefer and what Julie had told her, on Geralt and how badly he'd been hurt, and for what. She takes a slow breath. On the exhale, her shoulders slump, and she pushes her cup forward again, elbows heavy on the table.

Sam backs off. Ciri nods. ]

...yeah.

Do you have any bread?

[ Because the liquor is stronger than she is used to, and it's going to end up on the floor (and so is she) at this rate without anything to pad it. And Ciri wants to be at least functional enough to be of use tomorrow if Geralt needs her. ]

Jaskier made... a lot. I can bring you some tomorrow to replace it.

[ when she pushes the cup forward, he leans in to fill it, nodding at her request for bread. it's probably a good idea, after all. sam himself doesn't really remember the last full meal he had today. ]

Yeah, you know, actually, bread is a good idea. Here- [ sam sets down the bottle and turns back to the kitchen, pulling out various things he's got stashed. half a loaf of bread, some meat, maybe a few pieces of fruit. it's whatever sam's got around that he can pull out from the cabinets, but before ciri really notices he's going to set it all on the table.

he is definitely not. just trying to jump on the chance to...what? do something of use? ]

But if you want to bring over some more tomorrow, I will not say no. I have a feeling we're going to need it.

[ Her appetite is shit, but Ciri knows better than to drink all this hard liquor on an empty stomach, and she hasn't eaten very well for days. Not that she's gone hungry, of course -- food is fuel that keeps her going, so she's been forcing herself to eat just enough to be reliable, and that's what she does now. Without much attention spared to what she's putting in her mouth, she intersperses drinks with torn-off bits of bread and cheese, whatever meat Sam has provided.

She nods, grunts an affirmative. Bites into an apple like she's committing murder. ]

He trusts you.

[ She blurts suddenly, raising her eyes -- bleary and red-rimmed with drink and unshed tears -- to meet his gaze with a watery but captivating intensity. ]

Comes to you like this. [ Instead of calling me is left unsaid, but the way she grinds the word through her teeth is enough to make the meaning clear. ] Trusted you with Jaskier. With me, back in the cells. [ She hasn't forgotten that Geralt asked Sam to petition for her release, even if nothing had come of it. ]

You mean something to him.

[ It's difficult to tell what Ciri thinks of that; she says it matter-of-fact, but her words are slightly slurred. Her knuckles are white around her cup, but her eyes aren't angry, just dogged and red.

Sam has opened his home and his heart so easily; he offers his help without expectation, and even more strangely, Geralt accepts it. Seeks it. Again and again. Bonds have been forged that Ciri was not privy to, and though Geralt's business is his own, Ciri can't help but feel--

No, not left out, necessarily. It isn't that. But Geralt treats Sam like he's one of them, and he simply isn't.

Geralt trusts Sam, and Ciri trusts Geralt. But right now, Geralt is torn up and half bled out and so far unconscious he can't even wake. And for whose sake? Yennefer's? Her own? It makes her sick.

Maybe it's for the best, then. That Sam isn't one of them. An outsider. An ally. Geralt trusts him--

And Ciri trusts Geralt. More than even herself. ]

You take good fucking care of him, Sam.

[ It's a threat just as much as a concession, or a plea. Slamming her empty cup on the table, Ciri shoves off of her chair suddenly to stand. The back of her hand drags across her mouth, wiping it roughly. Her eyes never leave Sam's. ]

Call for me as soon as he wakes.

[ sam goes about setting whatever he can find on the table, grabbing at a couple of pieces for himself before he returns back to wherever it was he'd been leaning - the counter, against the wall. it doesn't matter much. for whatever reprieve having something to do had given him for those brief seconds, it's gone just as quickly after, and sam watches as ciri picks at the bread and meats.

but then something changes. ciri bites into a piece of apple like it's offended her, snaps out he trusts you and sam freezes to the spot. he's...not sure what's happening here. and sam knows that part of it is sheer exhaustion, that ciri is coming from a place of being terrified and worried and upset for geralt with every reason to, and that sam isn't putting this together because he hasn't slept in what feels like days and smells like geralt's blood even after he's washed, and washed, and washed.

ciri is pissed. sam knows why. she doesn't give voice to what she probably wants to say most out of all of this, but he picks them up all the same. ciri is a little drunk, and sam is too. sam is probably on his way to being very drunk, but part of him thinks maybe they're both allowed that. ]

Ciri, I- [ but she cuts him off, and he lets her. lets her be angry, or frustrated, or put up whatever wall she needs. he feels the urge to argue, if only because he feels lost too. feels strung out, and worried, and guilty too somehow. and he doesn't think she actually wants to take any of this out on him.

but he lets her.

you mean something to him.

somehow that feels even worse. like a bunch to the gut. like a slap to the face. sam, who means something to geralt. sam, who was still her, waiting for any information, who thought he might know something, after what he said. what he did. he feels the intense need to look away from her. to turn his eyes to the floor, or the table, or anywhere else...

but he doesn't. and as ciri finishes, and as ciri pushes to her feet - her eyes deathly intense, her threats heavy and honest and sam knows, knows she wouldn't hesitate to put him in the ground. but all he can do is not. ]

I will. [ it applies to both. both her demands. he nods, tightening his hold around his own glass to hopefully hide the way he almost feels himself start to shake. his jaw tenses, even now, but he doesn't break the gaze. ]

Get home safe, Ciri. [ he means it. ] I'll see you tomorrow.

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[ CLOSED ] tell them that the villains on my list

end of november, after geralt is back; for sam.

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