abraxaslogs | [ dec / open ] what even is the point of december without christmas presents?

[ Ciri doesn't know any of those references, but it doesn't matter; she gets the gist enough to let out a snort, shaking her head. ]

Depends on the kingdom and the princess in question. But for the most part, it is as you say. My grandmother, she held onto the throne despite being a woman, after her husband died. She had little patience for the traditions of men.

[ Sometimes, Ciri wonders what Calanthe would think now. Mostly, she tries to put that part of her past behind her, locked up safe, and does not want to taint the memories with fears of how her grandmother would see what she's become. ]

I think I inherited that from her.

[ She takes Julie's hand, letting the other woman pull her up even though she doesn't need it. Dusts the snow off her own trousers and offers a small smile, gently steering the conversation into this new direction as she leads Julie into the courtyard. ]

You heard? [ She laughs. There's only one thing that could mean, only one person who might have told her that (or maybe two, but Ciri doubts it was Jaskier). ]

In that case, your mysterious source spoke true. Did he show you inside?

She sounds like a badass. And probably a better ruler than any fuckin' king around her. There's a reason men are so afraid of women they can't push around. [ And Julie does not believe that Ciri lets it fly either. It's not her place to say, never having met Ciri's grandmother, but it sounds like the apple didn't fall all that far from the tree.

She follows Ciri in, looking around, though she has been in the courtyard before with the wolf. Julie is incredibly nosy and regularly snoops around the domains of others, but because her relationship with Geralt preceded her first visit to the Horizon, it feels much more invasive to go in without permission. Like inviting herself into the house of a friend's friend. So she has never gone more than a few steps through the gate. ]

He told me that the sea dried up before humans ever showed up in your world, that the name came from the elves. But he told me that out there, in Nott. I never went inside before.

Mm. I see.

[ In Nott. Geralt had told her about Kaer Morhen when he'd been there, perhaps as a distraction, something else to think about. Ciri wonders about that briefly, but they both know too well the circumstances that led Geralt to seeing Julie in person. She doesn't want to linger on that, either. Not right now.

Ciri leads Julie through the courtyard with its training equipment, sheds and storage, stables off to the side. The giant bones of long-dead beasts jutting out from the frost hardened earth. Further out, beyond a break in the surrounding wall -- barely visible from here, though it couldn't be far with the constraints of distance in the Horizon -- there is a cottage nestled right into the mountainside, facing the keep. But Ciri leads Julie not toward it, but forward. Through the large wooden doors that open into the great hall beyond. ]

Welcome to Kaer Morhen.

[ Flames burst to life as Ciri walks in, lighting up the large, empty space set out for dozens of people to sit at long, unoccupied tables. There is a twisted, barren tree across the hall before them, laden with Geralt's memory of the medallions that had clung to it back then. They catch the light, each one different and yet the same. A snarling wolf's head, carved of silver. Shining like tears.

On the tables sit baskets of bread, a few jugs of something to drink. One of them is occupied by a palm-sized horse made of vines and flowers, grazing on an empty patch of unvarnished wood. ]

[ Well, he had been there for several days. They couldn't spend every moment discussing what happened, and being that it's Geralt and Julie, neither of them felt particularly inclined to discuss it at all past what she pried out of him that first night. They talked about horses, and the known history of the planet Earth. You know, basic, easy conversation topics.

The looming size of the keep is actually fairly intimidating to Julie, who has spent most of her life surrounded by buildings that were three stories high, max. The skyscrapers in Vegas, though taller, had lacked the imposing width and solidity of an ancient stone castle, and she looks up at the huge doors and masonry with a sense of wonder.

And then the room illuminates, and it honestly feels like she's been transported onto a fucking movie set.

She has never seen anything even remotely close to this in real life. Fuck, she's pretty sure she's never even seen anything like it in pictures or movies, either. Her steps slow and it's just because she's so amazed that she's forgetting to move her feet. For the first time, she really understands how people from this world feel in her domain, because she barely knows where to look first. It's all so unfamiliar. Her voice is hardly a whisper. ]

Jesus H. Christ.

[ When she does walk forward, she drags her fingertips on the table like she needs to feel that they're actually real. She stops and crouches to look at this weird little horse thing (she's pretty sure this is a Horizon Original™, but then again, who knows anymore?) at eyelevel. She's still watching it when she finally speaks up. ] This is just... this is where y'all live?

[ Ciri watches her, looking as displaced in the halls of Kaer Morhen as Ciri felt in Julie's domain. Thinking of how strange and new this place had been to her at first too, when she'd been small and Geralt had brought her to his home -- his family -- for protection. There are just as many horrible memories here as there are good ones, etched into the stone and the wood like the bones that have become as one with the ground outside.

It's not really hers to share; it's Geralt's. But Ciri doesn't think he'd be upset that she'd brought Julie here.

She swings a leg over the bench where the horse has taken up residence on the table, sitting down and inviting Julie with a pat to join her. ]

That's Roach the Second. Jaskier made her when he was drunk. Geralt was drunk too. Heard it was your fault, actually. The drink, not the horse.

[ Rather than answer the question immediately, Ciri pulls closer the jug of whatever drink is on the table, deciding as she lifts it to her lips that it is mead. In the Horizon, it can be anything at all. A couple of goblets appear. She pours. ]

This is where the Witchers of the School of the Wolf return in winter to rest and wait out the most brutal snows.

[ She takes the seat with only a second of hesitation, because she really does want to look at everything, but it's not like she expects it to disappear. Snorting, she peers at the little horse still. It reminds her of the dragon and t. rex she has on a shelf, both also animated and linked to Geralt. (Part of the history lesson was dinosaurs. It makes sense.) ]

Roach the Second, huh? Guess I wasn't too far off when I was callin' that horse Roach Two after he left it. And I was not responsible for Jaskier that night. I mean, he probably did drink my punch, but I didn't talk him into tryin' it. And I didn't keep Geralt's cup full. He did that all on his own. [ There's a self-satisfied pause. ] I did warn him that I make the best jungle juice in the world, though.

[ Accepting the mead, she raises the goblet to Ciri before taking a sip. God, she never would have thought that she'd get used to drinking mead, of all things. What Ciri says does make Julie's brow knit. ] School of the Wolf?

Both horses can't be Roach, but if one is Roach and the other is Roach Two, that seems reasonable to me. [ She remembers fondly Geralt's insistence that night on how silly Jaskier had been for trying to name the little flower-horse Roach also, when Roach is already Roach. Ciri laughs, tapping her goblet against the side of Julie's when she raises it, careless of the mead that sloshes slightly over the edge. ]

In other words: you were entirely on the mark.

[ She drinks too, feeling the warmth settle. Hoping Julie enjoys it too. It's not like her bar, but the mead is passable, the fire is warm, and Julie has shared much already; it's time to repay it in kind, at least a little bit. ]

Mmh. It's the type of training he-- we received. Just what it's called. You notice the wolf's head on his medallion? That's why.

Well, sure, that makes sense. Like when your dog dies, you maybe get another dog looks like it, name it the same thing, it's like nothin' changed. But you wouldn't have two dogs at the same time with the same name. [ Geralt is not crazy, it also makes perfect sense to Julie, at least inasmuch as naming anything Roach at all does.

She nods; of course she's seen the medallion. She had simply never asked what it meant, past the fact that the Horizon version bears his arcana on the back side. Look, she's known plenty of men who wear jewelry styled after dangerous animals in some way. She didn't think to question it. ]

How is there more than one type of trainin'? Isn't it just... see monster, kill monster?

Precisely. You understand. [ It makes sense! Jaskier is the one who is ridiculous, clearly.

Julie might have noticed Ciri herself has a medallion in the Horizon; sometimes, it is around her neck and sometimes it hangs off her belt, unlike Geralt's, but it is also a wolf (with the sign of The Devil on the back of it). It had been a wolf when she'd come to in this place without memories, an instinct that had shaped it without her even knowing, and Ciri had left it that way, clinging to that sense of belonging. Wanting to match Geralt, perhaps.

Back home, it'd been a cat, but she won't bring that up to anyone. The circumstances surrounding her taking of that medallion. Not even Geralt.

Ciri arches a brow at the question, though, cocking her head. ]

Same way there are different styles of swordsmanship and even hand to hand combat. And in none of these schools would such training be described as "see monster, kill monster." We are not starved hounds let loose on meat.

A Witcher kills to protect.

[ Julie shakes her head, holds up her hand. She'd only been oversimplifying, hadn't meant to make it sound desperate. Though she would argue that hunting anything can be boiled down to "see, then kill". ] I didn't mean it like that. I mean, like... like okay, at least where I'm from, monsters have specific ways you gotta kill 'em, right? So, no matter what fightin' style you have, vampires have to get staked in the heart, werewolves die by silver, that kinda thing. There's plenty of ways to get 'em to that point, but it's always the same endin'.

[ And, if she's honest, she just has trouble accepting that the fucked up practice of making witchers is large enough for there to be different schools. Their population sounds so small, how can that many children be forced into this life?

But her nose does wrinkle with a separate thought. ] I thought witchers kill for money.

[ Ciri shrugs, and takes a big swig from her cup. ]

Didn't say it had to be for free.

[ There is the distinct possibility that other witcher schools don't hold the same values Vesemir does, but Ciri doesn't feel like getting into that, especially when the other schools are entirely irrelevant. There are only a handful of witchers left in the world, after all. If there are even those from other schools still out there -- and honestly, Ciri doesn't know at this point.

She wipes her mouth on the back of her hand, letting the cup hit the table with a clatter. ]

Lots of things die by silver. And a stake through the heart will kill pretty much anything.

If your costumes ideas were anything to go by, I'm not sure the monsters in your world make a very good example.

[ She smirks and rolls her eyes, good-naturedly, poking Ciri in the shoulder. ]

Oh my god, those are just costumes, Ciri! I swear, y'all's world is so literal. We have scary stories and legends, y'know, ones that go back like, thousands of years. It's just a modern thing to make monsters sexy, so they can put 'em in movies and TV shows. And it's really only vampires and werewolves they do that with, monsters who look like humans. I guess the idea is that it's scarier to think that someone you're attracted to, who seems normal, could secretly be a monster by night or whatever. [ Taking another sip of mead, she waves her hand again, thinking about how to explain. ] Anyway, what I mean is that most of our monsters only have a few ways to kill 'em, and they ain't the same between 'em. So a silver bullet or sword is the only way to kill a werewolf, but it won't kill a vampire. Might hurt 'em, but they won't die. Or like, a hydra, you hafta to chop its heads off with a flamin' sword or they just keep growin' more heads. Medusas and, oh, the big snake ones, those you gotta get 'em to look in a mirror. Stuff like that.

[ So, to Julie, having different "styles" of killing monsters makes almost no sense. Like having different "styles" of adding two and two. The answer is always the same.

She finishes her drink and sets the goblet back on the table, then stands to wander closer to the tree. From a distance, it almost reminds her of a Christmas tree draped in tinsel, minus the part where the tree is barren. Closer, she can see that they're actually more medallions, hanging like prizes. ]

What is this?

Fair enough. [ Ciri waves a hand, shaking her head at Julie's insistence with an amused smirk. She's not sure what some of the things Julie mentions are (something about a mirror?) but she understands the point well enough. She doesn't need to be 'so literal,' as Julie complains. She gets it. She just thinks it's kind of ridiculous. ]

Yes, there are certain creatures that are difficult to kill except by very specific methods. And most have weaknesses it's best to target if you want to do the job quicker. The legends may have embellished a bit, but that's what legends do.

[ Ciri turns on the bench, putting one leg up while she watches Julie approach the tree. Her jaw tenses slightly. Ciri takes another drink, then reaches for the bottle again to replenish her cup. ]

A memorial. For the fallen.

Those are their medallions.

[ At least, Geralt's memory of them. ]

Edited 2021-12-26 01:55 (UTC)

[ Julie lets it go. She's not sure if it's just the difference between worlds or what, but there's no point in continuing to hammer in an explanation that won't be listened to. If you have to stake a vampire in the heart to kill it, then what does it matter if you're using judo vs kung fu in the fight? It's all the same at the end. But it's also completely irrelevant, especially here, where Julie doesn't foresee gorgons and wendigos and whatever else to start cropping up like daisies.

Ciri's tension is also unnecessary, since Julie does not do more than approach the tree to look at it. It was clear from the start that it was something important, although she had pegged it as being a bit more celebratory -- picking a medallion off the tree for witcher school graduation, maybe. Something along those lines.

She tilts her head and studies all the different designs (Why different? Who makes all of them, each so intricate but completely unique?), then looks back over her shoulder. ]

It's nice, that they're here. At home.

[ Ciri's tension had nothing to do with Julie approaching the tree, or with Julie at all, but the reaction seems to soften her. She smiles, faintly. Raises her glass in a toast toward the tree. ]

Yeah. Where they can finally rest.

[ After all, Witchers don't retire. They get killed, or they eventually get slow -- and the result is the same. She drinks, then sets her cup down with a thud and moves to stand as well. ]

Want to see the armory?

[ It's not that Julie isn't welcome to keep looking around the hall, or that Ciri is trying to hurry her somewhere else. She just figures there's not much else to look at here. It's all pretty visible already. ]

[ Honestly, Julie could spend several hours just poring over every little aspect of this room; not only has she never actually been anywhere like it before, it feels like even just absorbing the space would help her better understand this world. She is also someone who can be incredibly nosy. But she's also not about to turn down the opportunity to see other rooms. Her only information of places like this stems directly from Hollywood, so she can't fathom what such a large building could actually house.

She turns and beams, bouncing on the balls of her feet. An armory sounds cool as hell, even by her limited knowledge of weapons available in this world. Swords, bows and arrows, spiky balls on chains? Maybe long sticks with pointy stuff. ]

Sure! How many people live here? In the real one, I mean.

Edited 2021-12-29 23:41 (UTC)

[ Ciri smiles at Julie's reaction; she'd thought Julie might like that. She leads the way out of the hall, taking her through the familiar corridors toward one of the rooms where weapons are kept, avoiding the stairs leading down toward the labs.

The question is innocent. Julie doesn't... understand. Or maybe she does, and Ciri's not giving her enough credit. She'd seen the tree, after all. How many medallions are on it. ]

About a dozen. [ She answers after a beat. ]

That was years ago. Now, probably less.

I don't know.

[ Julie's impression of what to expect was pretty much spot-on as they enter. Swords hang on the walls, axes, even a few maces and a polearm or two. Some crossbows. There are also materials with which to make armor, leather and rivets and tools lined up on worktables. Containers of oils for weapons and leather maintenance. The usual. ]

Nadine asked me about learning how to use a weapon, since the ones she's used to don't exist in Abraxas.

[ N O P E. Guess what Witcher never clarified numbers when he told her about where witchers come from? In fact, he hadn't told her anything more than the fact that witchers are made from unwilling children. She doesn't know how long they've been around, how many there were, or that they can't be made anymore. Your dad is not a thorough storyteller, Ciri.

Julie follows Ciri down the hall, though she pauses and glances back at the tree with a thoughtful tilt to her head. ] Huh. I guess I thought there'd be more.

[ But she doesn't dwell, turning back and keeping up with Ciri. In the armory, she looks around with genuine interest, examining the weapons closely. It's only when Nadine is mentioned that she focuses on the conversation. ]

Oh, yeah. I think she's only ever used a pistol before. Most people where I'm from don't know how to use this kind of stuff. Guns are just too good at killin' to bother with swords and shit. People only do that as a hobby now.

Edited (i didn't hit post by mistake) 2021-12-30 04:06 (UTC)

Too good at killing?

[ Ciri sounds skeptical. The pistols she's seen around Cadens and the outpost -- and they are rare to begin with -- hardly seem more reliable than a bow. And she's under the impression they're actually slower. Nadine explained that what exists in her and Julie's world is a more advanced version of that, but Ciri still doesn't think it could beat out the weapons she's used to. Not when it comes to warfare. ]

A projectile weapon and a close-combat one are different tools for different situations.

[ The whole bit about people only using swords as a hobby is faintly baffling, but Ciri doesn't question it. She wouldn't call training a hobby, exactly, but she understands well enough that Julie might. She does spend a lot of time on it. ]

Speaking of-- If I'm giving Nadine some advice anyway, I may as well extend the invitation to you. Interested?

Sure. Sniper can take someone out from a thousand yards, if they're good enough. Point-blank range on a handgun, like Nadine knows how to use, that's still about twenty-five yards. We make bullets that explode, send a bunch of smaller bullets, basically. Buckshot. Imagine I fire a gun at you once, but you get hit ten times from it. And that's just guns. With missiles and bombs, there's barely ever a reason to be in close combat.

[ Julie happens to be from somewhere that hunting in general is popular and even children often have experience with. She'd learned to aim a bow by the time she started school; she could take out a boar at fifty yards with a rifle before she could drive. It was the only activity her father really engaged in with her, because he was the kind of man who had wanted sons and instead got a single unruly daughter. But she had an uncanny eye, and he'd latched onto that, buying her tiny compound bows and gifting her a modified shotgun before she was even big enough to really handle the recoil. But no one had ever worked under the assumption that she would need to learn how to swing a claymore or whatever.

Running her fingers over the blade of an axe, she rolls one shoulder with a shrug. Honestly, she's never had much interest in swords, and she is beginning to feel stretched thin under her various commitments. The magic in particular is incredibly draining. ] I think I'm okay. Nadine's got it in her head that I'll be better at magic than her, plus I've been usin' a bow since I was a little kid. So she figures she'll learn swords.

[ There is perhaps a note of dryness in her tone. She has doubts about how well Nadine Cross will be able to wield any kind of blade. ]

[ dec / open ] what even is the point of december without christmas presents?

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