[ CATCH-ALL ] i'm allied to the winter

[wiedzminka]

Who: Ciri, Geralt, Rinwell, Jaskier, and others
What: Catch-all for February plans
Where: Cadens, the desert on the road to Aquila, Horizon
When: throughout February
Warnings: will add as needed. probably violence. spoilers for season 2 of the witcher!

Closed headers below, but open for plotting! Hit me up if you'd like a starter. Feel free to PM Ciri's journal or catch me on Plurk at belleteyn

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[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri lingers just inside when the doors swing shut with a heavy thud behind them. She'd glimpsed it once, while Geralt wasn't here; she hasn't come back since. It hadn't felt right, without him.

Now, he leads her in, steps into the ruined hall with its evidence of being patched together bit by bit, and bends to take a bowl in which have been gathered the fallen medallions that had scattered when the tree broke.

The tree. The monolith. Ciri's eyes skirt away from it, down to the contents of the bowl.

It is... too quiet. Firewood crackles softly, and the wind outside gusts through the cracks in the old stone, but it is still too quiet, too heavy, and Geralt's footsteps echo. Ciri hasn't moved. ]

Geralt, I--

[ He'd told her not to apologize. She is tired of apologizing. ]

I want to fix it.

[ She means the tree. And so much more than that, but the rest is impossible. ]

[gynvael]

[ Ever since his memories returned (emerged?), he has focused on putting the furniture back together, cleaning the blood. He has not stopped long by the tree. Or what's left of it—a twisted half of a trunk. The other half is collapsed on the ground.

For a second, he's silent. These walls have held immeasurable loss for centuries, but now it's—it soaks the air, like freshly fallen rain. Nothing will bring them back. And he wonders, not for the first time, if he will be the last to fall. If there will be anyone left to look upon these medallions soon. If it even matters. Were they not always fated to fade from a world that never wanted them?

Ciri's voice slips between his thoughts. I want to fix it. He promised her he would fix so many things and he isn't certain he fixed much at all. He knows he protected her. He doesn't know if doing so made anything better. But maybe it isn't his place to fix what's broken on her behalf. Maybe that's for her to do. Maybe what's more important is that he's there for her, while she does so.

He looks over at Ciri. She seems almost small, and he places a hand on her shoulder. ] I'll help.

[ He bends down to where the split trunk has toppled over and waits for her to join him. The logistics are not especially significant in the Horizon. It only matters that they lift it and fit it back into place. ]

[wiedzminka]

[ They work in silence. At first, it is difficult. To Ciri, each step feels weighed down with sand, each piece of wood -- not even real, remembered, a piece of the past -- seeming so much heavier than it should be. It isn't a physical sensation so much as a drag in the air, a thickness in the emptiness. A tension, coiled in her body like a fight-or-flight response though neither is appropriate.

She picks up pieces of wood, avoiding the shattered stone as much as possible when it's everywhere. The monolith still glints inside. They cover it up, but it will be there the same as it always was-- now that Geralt knows.

Her hands press alongside Geralt's to the trunk, righting bark and branches.

It gets a little easier with each piece. Only a little, but it is a start. ]

[gynvael]

[ They take their time. He's in no hurry to finish, nor to leave. Just picks up the pieces, places them back on the standing half of the tree. What remains of the shattered monolith is covered up, bit by bit.

He isn't looking to change it back to how it was before. Only to fix it. What's done can't be undone. But it can be repaired. Healed.

When they place the final piece together, something seems to shift—the tree righting itself a little on its own. A thick crack down the middle shows where it splintered. Otherwise, it stands. Sturdy as ever. He looks up at it, wondering if Vesemir would have repaired it the same way. He imagines so. Rebuilding is what they do, until they no longer can. Until there's none of them left to do so. ]

It should hold. [ He glances over at Ciri. Only one part left: the medallions, waiting to be hung back up. He takes a nail and offers it to her. A moment passes before he says, ] I remember the Wild Hunt. Stepping into their world with you. [ He takes a nail of his own. ] When we first found each other here, you said they've been pursuing you across every sphere.

[wiedzminka]

[ They right the last piece together, her hands next to his, bracing their combined weight on it to push it into place. Whether or not this is how it would 'really' work doesn't matter in the Horizon; the part that is important is it feels real enough. It feels like effort, like something that needs strength and will because it is in the physicality of the fixing that it actually feels like she is doing something. She doesn't want to stand there and wish it all gone, either. She wants the opportunity to choose to do something to move forward again.

Briefly, when they finish and the tree stands more-or-less whole once again, bearing the scars of the past like the rest of them, Ciri leans her shoulder against Geralt's side. It isn't quite an embrace, might have been mistaken for brushing past except for the way she lingers a moment or two.

Then, she takes the nail and a medallion and begins the difficult work of rebuilding the memorial.

Without looking up from what she is doing, Ciri nods. ]

Now you've seen them too.

[gynvael]

[ He has. He is still not certain what they are. Spectres? No. They are something tangible. From another world. They spoke, they wore armour of a kind. And they knew of her. Daughter of Chaos.

He hangs the medallion up once the nail has been affixed. He tries not to think about what he has left behind back home. There is some guilt, lingering - not regret, because he knows what needs to be done, knows this is the best decision (isn't it?) - but it's not what he would've wanted had there been another way. There simply isn't. ]

You haven't felt them. [ It's both a question and yet not. ] Here, in this world. Not since we arrived.

[ Not even with her magic gone wrong that one time. It had drawn no real attention. Among the Summoned, it remains an incident that only he and Jaskier and Sam are aware of. He just...he wants to be sure. He wants to hear it from her, that she feels safer in this world than she has elsewhere. ]

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri finishes what she is doing, hanging up the medallion, before looking back over at Geralt. A faint crease forms between her brows. She's not sure what he's getting at, and answers tentatively. ]

It's more that I presume they haven't felt me.

They have a habit of... catching up. Finding me.

[ She hesitates. ]

It happens when I use my abilities to open portals. Even if it's within the same sphere. My use of magic is like a beacon to them.

[ But she cannot use that magic here. Mostly. There was that time with Jaskier, when they'd run into the remnants of Geralt's overrun camp-- ]

Sometimes, if I try not to draw attention, it takes months.

[gynvael]

[ He places the medallion in his hand down. Drops the pretence of fixing this tree, because this conversation—it's one he's wanted to have with her. One he's been thinking about for awhile. Even before the memories rushed in, but especially since then.

He doesn't dance around the subject. ] Nothing says we need to return to the Continent, Ciri. If you feel safer in this sphere...your home is with me. With us.

[ What world doesn't matter. The Continent is ravaged by war. There are dozens searching for her, armies who have torn apart villages because of her. If war arrives here, too, so be it. At least it will not be in search of her. To find her and capture her for what they might want. Not if he's got anything to say about it.

Months, she says. It's been nearly a year now here. That's the longest she's gone without having to flee, is it not? ]

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri stops too. She turns to face him fully, and for a moment, there is tension. Her shoulders brace, her mouth opening, the argument trying to coalesce behind her eyes.

But then--

Your home is with me, he says. With us.

The fight rushes out of her like breath after a blow. To Geralt, it might feel like he'd been leading into the subject in a logical way; to her, it feels like he just led her into a hallway and yanked the rug right out from under her to reveal a hidden door they're suddenly falling through, a jarring side-step into territory she never even knew existed, let alone considered. Maybe it's strange, in retrospect. It hadn't crossed her mind.

She'd thought he (everyone) would want to go back. To their proper times and places. Even after the memory-dreams, or perhaps even more because of them. All of this already makes her head hurt; trying to wrap her mind around what Geralt is suggesting is dizzying.

Ciri's voice is small. Confused, more than anything else. ]

...Geralt?

[gynvael]

[ He releases a breath, watching her carefully. He doesn't...it isn't his intention to make her feel as if he's giving anything up. Because he isn't. When he meant to leave Kaer Morhen that day—he'd decided, then, that whatever happens, his place is with her. Keeping her safe.

His hand lands on her shoulder. He peers down at her. ] You said it yourself. We've been pulled from our paths. [ There is no other him. There is no other Ciri, existing out there. Here, this is what they have of each other. And it isn't what they expected; it's cracked and worn, but it's theirs. ] We can't live our lives trying to turn back. We can only move forward.

[ If this sphere is where they can do so, then that's where he'll be. With her. Voleth Meir was right about one thing, if in the wrong way: she is the future. His future, he thinks. Until he found Ciri, he never believed he had one. For any Witcher, their lives leave behind at most an old medallion hung on a tree buried in the mountains. They haven't got futures. They haven't got legacies. For the first time, he has more than the promise of a bloody death, alone in the woods somewhere. ]

[wiedzminka]

But--

[ She stops again, struggling to figure out what to say. And why. Does she want to protest because she thinks he's wrong? Or because she thinks he doesn't mean it? Because she isn't sure it's possible?

Simply because she's... afraid?

In a surge of desperation so shocking in its intensity it leaves her lightheaded, Ciri grabs a fistful of his tunic, gripping tight. Her heart pounds in her head, a tangle of thoughts trying to explode out of her at once, sharp shards of memories and hopes and fears all crashing against each other in a horrible din that won't let her fucking think.

She breathes in sharply, staring up at Geralt's steady eyes. ]

Do you really think it's possible?

[ Geralt has not lived through the parts of his future that brought her here. But he is here. And the way he and Jaskier (and Yennefer) had experienced memories they shouldn't have had yet still leaves her uneasy about it all.

At the same time though, he hadn't actually left. Maybe this is how it will be -- time fractured, having to catch up all at once due to some glitch in the Singularity's (or her) magic. They still don't know what caused it, and Geralt's theory that it's her makes an unfortunate amount of sense. She is the connecting factor. She is bridging their past and their future.

...as long as she is here, it's impossible that Geralt won't suffer the fate he has in her past. And yet, she still desperately wonders if she can protect him from it anyway. If things have already changed. If what he and Jaskier and Yennefer 'remembered' are only echoes.

Ciri leans forward, pressing her forehead to his chest. ]

Are you sure?

[gynvael]

[ She grabs him so abruptly, he doesn't think twice before his arm goes around her. Does he? He takes a moment to reply. This is not a decision to make lightly, and yet, he only feels relief at having made it. Because the thought of returning to the Continent is rife with so much fucking risk. What awaits her there, what has yet to come, if the Wild Hunt will come for her the moment she steps through a portal—

He's lost her before. Twice. Once, when he'd believed she couldn't possibly have survived Nilfgaard on her own. Then in the Horizon: a shadow of her that had felt nonetheless real. He woke up to the understanding that nothing changed, that she was likely lost back home. He can't do it again. He's lost too much already.

If they stay, there's a chance she can live a life where no one is hunting her down. On the Continent, that can't ever be possible. Not as long as kingdoms and entities exist who desire her powers, who know where and what she is. ]

Yes. [ His answer is firm. He knows he will talk to Jaskier. And...perhaps Yennefer. If—if. He doesn't know yet. Yennefer remains a complicated matter, as always. ] I'm sure.

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri presses herself close in his embrace, still trying to figure out how she's feeling, to take control of her racing heart.

All this time, she'd been thinking -- maybe not actively, but somewhere in the back of her mind, ever-present -- that she needs to figure out a way to set things right. That their paths are all wrong and the jumbled mess that has become of the future and the past has to come untangled somehow. That she is the only one with the pieces and the power and that she must, eventually, send them on their way.

She would have to take Geralt somewhere far away once more, unsure if she would ever see him again.

It takes a long time for her to begin to wrap her head around what Geralt is saying instead. Agonizing seconds pass in silence, drawing out into a full minute that crawls by like years. The choice does not have to be hers alone. It does not have to be a choice at all.

There is a chance -- a real chance -- that they can stay like this instead. The decision is to simply... stop. Not to think about trying to get everyone home again, or how the time will right itself. Not to blame herself and wonder if she should have tried harder months ago, if there was some way to reawaken her powers, if she is the reason they're trapped. Not to feel guilty for being content with the life they've built in Cadens, feeling like it is a stolen moment, something that should not exist.

Geralt is right.

We can only move forward.

When Ciri imagines moving forward, all she's seen until now is a convoluted road into darkness, always something ahead, always something chasing behind. And somewhere, in the distance, a hope to see the people she loves again.

She had never imagined Abraxas. She had never imagined a cramped little loft apartment in a desert city worlds beyond any she'd ever seen. She'd never imagined Geralt only ever a thought away, every day. Drinking and swapping stories with Jaskier more evenings than not. Even Yennefer, a continent apart but still more within reach than she's been for far too long.

But Ciri had imagined -- hoped for -- a home. It is a home made of people, of fates bound together and trust kept. It is not a place. It hasn't been for years.

Even after all this time, Geralt's words have stayed with her, a closely-guarded talisman tucked inside her heart. His plea. His promise.

We are your family. It's not perfect, but it is real.

Just as real here as it would be on any other sphere.

Ciri's voice is muffled in Geralt's shirt, thick around the lump in her throat. ]

I have spent half my life... running. Hiding. Being afraid.

I--

[ She chokes. The fear might never go away, not fully. But no matter what happens now, she knows there is something to stand and fight for. Here. Together. ]

I do not want to run anymore.

[gynvael]

[ That's the other thing, too. That Ciri feels responsible for being the one to bring them back. And she shouldn't. That is not her job. It is not her burden, whatever her powers may be. Especially not when they haven't any clue what it might trigger: the Wild Hunt, innumerable gateways, the collapse of the Singularity itself. Ciri, in danger from the Singularity's intense power. Her magic has already been known to backfire over a simple healing spell. He doesn't want to imagine what might happen if she were to try something as powerful and complex as opening a portal into another realm.

Even if he were to want to go back, he would never use Ciri to get there. He would never allow anyone else to, either.

He wraps his arm tightly around her. His heart feels heavy and light all at once. He just. Wants to be with the people he cares about, to know that they are safe, to know that they aren't alone. He's not so naïve to believe that there will be no threats or darkness lurking. There's always risk, danger. He can't always be around to protect her. But it doesn't feel as if the entire world is out to have her, here. ]

Then we'll stay. [ He doesn't know yet, that she's been running alone. That at some point, he was taken from her. ] Together.