[ CLOSED ] tell them that the villains on my list

[wiedzminka]

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!

Comments

[falcony]

[ 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?

[wiedzminka]

[ 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.

[falcony]

[ 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. ]

[wiedzminka]

[ ...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. ]

[falcony]

[ 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. ]

[wiedzminka]

[ 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.

[falcony]

[ 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.

[wiedzminka]

[ 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.

[falcony]

[ 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.