[ CLOSED ] let these bones be the giver

[gynvael]

Who: Geralt + Various
When: Mid-January
Where: Cadens, Horizon
What: Dealing with a sudden onslaught of new memories
Warnings: Spoilers for The Witcher S2, trauma, discussion of torture, etc. NSFW marked.



placing starters in the comments below. find me at discontinued or at Noa#1979 to plot stuff!

since geralt has been officially canon updated to the end of s2, just let me know directly if you want to have a zero spoiler interaction and i can set the threads pre-canon update for these cases.

Comments

[wiedzminka]

...in a situation like that again?

[ Ciri finishes for him, quiet. She doesn't sound angry or even upset, voice flat. Tired. ]

I've followed that same train of thought so many times myself, Geralt. When you were gone. When I heard from Julie it was someone in Thorne.

I didn't want to. I hated thinking it.

But--

[ She swallows, looking down at her knees as she wraps her arms around them and folds herself up close. ]

You're right. She is the same person, and she isn't. Just as you are. And I to you. Even Jaskier.

What are we supposed to do? We only have each other.

[gynvael]

[ What he expected to hear. It makes it no easier. He had his doubts, too. For different reasons, but he had them. In the end, he's always known Yennefer too well. Seems they both do. He'd wanted to believe, before all this, that he was the one who must've sent Ciri Yennefer's way. That they'd first met at the temple because he'd arranged it so for the girl. That Yennefer must've agreed to see him, despite everything between them, for Ciri's sake.

Now he realizes how wrong he was.

Sometimes we assume the worst because we fear to hope.

What is he to do when the worst is precisely what he found? ]

Let me speak to her first. [ The last thing he wants is to make a decision while the memories are too fresh. More than that, he's simply...unsure. Who the Yennefer he will find here will be. Herself and yet not. If she remembers the sacrifice she made for Ciri, then he thinks they may be all right. That's the best he can hope for. That they can move forward together, despite what broken pieces might lay between them. ]

Until then— [ He doesn't need to say it. He thinks Ciri knows, to take care of what she says to Yennefer. ] If she contacts you, tell me.

[wiedzminka]

[ She understands.

That's the worst part. She really does understand, far too well. In the end, she can't even defend Yennefer; Ciri swallows down whatever half-formed attempt she might have made, the guilt bitter on the back of her tongue. She nods. ]

I will.

[ The words land heavy. She hates how they taste.

Ciri moves to unfold herself from where she sits, reaching over to grab her blades and get up suddenly. It had hurt knowing they didn't remember, but this hurts too, and she doesn't even know how to begin to unravel how she feels right now. Knowing what it is that Geralt remembers suddenly, what Jaskier had told her, the fact Yennefer isn't answering--

The memories still crawl up in her nightmares, and now they feel sharper than ever. Geralt hadn't said a word about what she'd done. What Voleth Mier had done with her body. He doesn't need to.

Ciri turns away, stepping down onto the overhang. ]

I'm going out.

You should check on Jaskier.

[gynvael]

[ He remains where he is while Ciri gathers her weapons, steps off the roof. The need to get away for awhile is one he's often felt himself.

He hasn't brought it up, no. It is not the first time he's lost too much in one instant, and it doesn't make it easier to bear. He also does not regret it. What he did. His decision, to protect Ciri, because he knew that he could. That they all could.

The loss of his brothers hurts. But they have, from the start, known that a Witcher's time on this earth is not one of peace and quiet. They will fall, eventually, each one of them. That's the simple reality of their existence. They've lived their lives after a hundred, two hundred years, trudging onward in a world that no longer wants them in it. Ciri is more. She is so much more than any of them ever was. And for all that he remains uncertain of his choices elsewhere, in this, he is sure: she will always be worth saving. ]

Ciri. [ He looks over. He isn't stopping her from leaving. If she wants time to herself, he more than understands. He just wants her to know that she needn't stay away for his sake, or for Jaskier's. ] We'll be here. When you come home.

[wiedzminka]

[ When he calls her name, Ciri pauses. She glances over her shoulder, lets herself meet his eyes briefly. They're steady as ever. There is no uncertainty there, no judgement, no rancor.

She smiles, faint and short-lived as the dew in the desert. ]

I know, Geralt.

[ And then she jumps down, with the faint rustle of leather and cloth, the twitch of the curtains, the soft thud of boots. A minute later, Geralt will hear the front door downstairs open and shut, and she is gone.

She's gone until the gray haze of the hour before morning, when the homes are quiet and only the most industrious shops are just beginning to stir. The window is still open. Ciri foregoes the front door this time, climbing up onto the ledge with the help of a cart parked in the alley and slinking inside like a stray cat, windswept and damp from the condensation in the air as the cold begins to break with sunrise nearing. She drops off her swords in the main room, kicks off her boots. Rinwell is asleep in their room, and she wouldn't disturb the girl.

The door to Jaskier's room is cracked open, the heavy breathing of one sleeping man and the silence of one not-quite-asleep Witcher beyond it. She glances at the couch, which would have been fine, and deems the cushions unappealing.

When you come home.

Wrapping herself in her cloak, Ciri slips quietly into the room where Geralt shares a bed with Jaskier and curls up in the bard's reading chair, closing her eyes. ]