[ His brows furrow a hint. He catches it. He does, the way her face shifts. Scar fading, a youthfulness to her face and yet the same look in her eyes. He says nothing. It is not the first time this has happened, but...
He leads the way inside. He's sure. The place needs to be cleaned up. And it has been, piece by piece: the last time Sam came, they put a table back together. It now sits next to another, and the braziers are lit again alongside the hearth at the center where the cooking pot hangs. The tree is still broken, but the medallions have all been picked up off the floor. Most of the blood has been scrubbed clean. The broken benches remain, dust and debris and the shattered bits of the monolith. Like blackened glass shards scattered over the floor.
The door shuts heavily behind them. It echoes in the hall. He wonders what she must've thought, coming here when it was whole. Knowing that it was not as she would have left it. Not as he would have left it, had he remembered.
He remembers now. But he supposes, it was never whole. Kaer Morhen has been broken since he was a boy. It doesn't make it any less of a home. He sees it as he walks, the ghost of a girl and her training sword in hand, practicing in the middle of the hall.
He's not altogether sure where to start. In the end, he picks up the bowl of medallions. It only feels right Ciri helps him hang them back up. She's the only one who truly understands what they mean. ]
no subject
He leads the way inside. He's sure. The place needs to be cleaned up. And it has been, piece by piece: the last time Sam came, they put a table back together. It now sits next to another, and the braziers are lit again alongside the hearth at the center where the cooking pot hangs. The tree is still broken, but the medallions have all been picked up off the floor. Most of the blood has been scrubbed clean. The broken benches remain, dust and debris and the shattered bits of the monolith. Like blackened glass shards scattered over the floor.
The door shuts heavily behind them. It echoes in the hall. He wonders what she must've thought, coming here when it was whole. Knowing that it was not as she would have left it. Not as he would have left it, had he remembered.
He remembers now. But he supposes, it was never whole. Kaer Morhen has been broken since he was a boy. It doesn't make it any less of a home. He sees it as he walks, the ghost of a girl and her training sword in hand, practicing in the middle of the hall.
He's not altogether sure where to start. In the end, he picks up the bowl of medallions. It only feels right Ciri helps him hang them back up. She's the only one who truly understands what they mean. ]