ℭ𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 𝔬𝔣 ℭ𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔞 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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abraxaslogs2022-01-31 10:13 pm
wiedzminka) wrote in abraxaslogs2022-01-31 10:13 pm
[ CATCH-ALL ] i'm allied to the winter
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![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
belleteyn
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
no subject
Ah. Right. You're right.
[He hesitates still. The change that came over his Horizon was not, technically, a conscious one, and though he has seen the effects of unconscious change to one's domain in others, it is startling (and a bit unnerving) in his own. The longer he's here, in Oxenfurt, the less... he thinks he wishes to be.
The Horizon won't hurt him. He's being ridiculous. And Moglad is here, after all. He has done a very studious job of keeping this tavern safe.]
Let me think.
[He wants it to be perfect. His memory of it. And after decades, how could it be less than perfect? Filavandrel's lute (for he's always thought of it that way) appears in his hands, all warm, honey wood and the polite sparkle of gold knotted around her belly. The strings play light, the notes coming easily. His playing is immaculate, of course, but if Ciri has heard him practice at home, the sound from this instrument is infinitely warmer than the lute from Thorne.] I carried it for over twenty years. A gift from Geralt and I's first adventure together. [His hands caress her like a lover -- like he would hold his own heart.
His throat tightens. She lay in the Continent now, only splinters. After a breath, he offers it out to her.] I lost her. Or -- rather, she was taken from me. In those memories.
[She knows which ones.]
no subject
[ Ciri agrees with a gentle smile, watching his face, the memories playing across it-- ending in the ones he keeps trying to forget at the bottom of a bottle. No, she doesn't think it will be a good idea to look for something similar. Nothing here can match Elven craftsmanship, and even if it could, Jaskier doesn't want a second lute like this. That is not the point.
But at least here, in the Horizon, he can keep the memory fresh as long as he needs. ]
Thank you for showing me.
no subject
[The lute dissolves in his arms. He's learning, over time, that clinging to those memories is doing him no favors.] Anyway, there's plenty of other beauties out there. There's no need to attach myself to one. It isn't what made me Jaskier.
[He gives her a short lesson, mostly the basics of music -- finding she knows enough that the start will be easier than most. A few lessons, over the weeks, until she sends him a message again -- so formal, she is! -- to wait at home for her. Well, lucky for her, it's not as if he goes out that much, anyway.]
I hope your surprise is another honey cake. I haven't stopped dreaming of the last one.
no subject
So Ciri has been more or less diligent about her lessons. She doesn't put in a lot of practice outside of when she meets with Jaskier for it, but she's not entirely incompetent either. Her ear for music is perhaps a touch better than average, and playing an instrument is a forgotten skill but one she had been trained in growing up in court. (She can theoretically embroider too, but nobody should be brave enough to ask her for it.)
Eventually, though, the real reason Ciri accidentally got herself into music lessons is ready. ]
I assure you, it's even better.
[ She carries the brand-new lute in its case, and the case in a large box she has to finagle up the narrow steps to the apartment. Careful not to bang it even a little bit on the walls or the doorframe, Ciri toes open the door and wedges herself inside. She is windswept, flushed, and triumphant.
The box is held aloft and bestowed upon Jaskier with great solemnity. ]
Open it!
[ No prelude or explanation at all. Naturally. ]
no subject
Just in case it's food -- because his mind is on it now -- he spends his time tidying up the place while he waits for her. The kitchen is routinely rather clean, if only because of late he's been eating plenty of meals alone with the others moving in and out.
It isn't a terrible way to live. There's so many reminders that they are... a strange, disjointed little family.
He perks up when he hears the door, only to laugh at Ciri struggling in with a ridiculously large box.] What on earth is that? A coffin? [Okay, it's like a child's coffin, but --
He opens it. He hardly needs much prompting. A peek in through the box's open lid and he sees a shape as intimately familiar to him as the Countess de Stael's. A shape he coveted, and touched, and loved for years.
Jaskier takes the lute case from the box, speechless. His hand runs over it, the fingers already trembling at the tips. He finds the latches, taking a careful breath before he lifts the lid, as if the instrument may leap out and attack him. He knows, immediately, what this means. What those questions Ciri asked him weeks ago were about. As he should have known.
The lute inside is a work of art, with long, silver strings and a design made of inlaid pearl and gold filigree lining it. Jaskier sucks in a breath through his teeth, fingers laying across the strings. He follows them up to the neck, long and elegant -- longer, actually, than his previous lute. As he told he wanted to try to play one day, when he had the coin.]
Oh, Ciri... [He chokes up.] She's perfection.
no subject
She lets her smile free, beaming from ear to ear, flushed bright. ]
I expect you to break her in good and proper with a string of exciting new performances soon enough.
[ With Geralt and Ciri both relatively well established in the city by now, it's not a matter of Jaskier needing to help keep them afloat. She just wants to see him happy performing again. Really loving it again. He's clearly feeling better week by week, and this is just another step.
Besides. He did need a good lute. ]
Consider it an investment from a patron of the arts.
no subject
He doesn't mean to. A part of him had settled in Kaer Morhen, he realizes now. Settled and accepted that this is it. Destiny had played her hand and decided he would perform no longer. With no lute, with burned fingers that could not pluck a string. But his fingers had healed.
And now he is no longer bare-handed.
He shakes his head. No, he cannot imagine not performing now. He cannot imagine a better messenger for Destiny's message than Ciri herself.
He sets the instrument down carefully, more invested in loving the woman than testing the instrument. Only when it has been safely placed down does he pull her into an embrace, crushingly tight for Jaskier, and that sob he swallowed down does escape, embarrassingly, into her ear.]
You are the finest patron I've ever had the pleasure of having.
no subject
She presses her smile into his shoulder, giving him a squeeze. ]
And you are my very favorite bard.