abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] head down, hands up

[ He lets her think it over, for as long as she needs. Frankly, it isn't something he'd have ever proposed were Yennefer here. Yennefer is the one who was to help her, teach her, guide her, because that's the least she could do. But Yennefer is not here, has done the opposite of earn his trust back, and so that leaves it to him to try something else.

He nods. ] You can do it. We train, just like anything else.

[ He doesn't believe the Singularity has inhibited her ability to control her magic. Just given her more of it than she's used to having, on top of what was already overflowing. If they start with something smaller, then in time—perhaps she can do more.

At the very least, he thinks she needs a few spells she can use with confidence. It won't help if she only thinks of her magic as a danger more than not. ]

[ He doesn't even hesitate. He sounds so sure.

And for some reason, it works. It makes her feel better, encouraged to try. Willing to trust him, if nothing else.

Ciri responds with a small smile, the tension easing from her shoulders as she reaches for her cup again. ]

All right. Let's make an attempt. But not here-- if something goes wrong, I'd rather not have to move again.

[ All right. Good. He smiles back as she relaxes. If they're to stay here, it's especially important she find a handle on her magic. ]

Not here. [ Her magic is better practiced away from prying eyes—not because of the risk she poses, but the risk others may pose towards her. If they glimpse even a hint of what she's capable of...he's kept her secret for this long. He doesn't intend to be careless. ] In the morning, we'll go. You should sleep first.

[ And fuck, he should, too. It's a rare thing that he does feel as though he can get some proper sleep for once. He wants to take advantage while it lasts. Before something else rears its ugly head. ]

[ Ciri looks like she might just roll her eyes. But in a fond way. ]

Yes, yes. [ Okay, Dad.

She does sleep, eventually. Presumably, they both do, a rarity for Geralt. More true to form, they are both awake and ready to go at dawn, prepared to ride a couple of hours into the desert and off the main road. It is still cool in the morning; they'll have tolerable temperatures until early afternoon, giving them plenty of time.

Ciri isn't completely without instruction, but she waits patiently to see where Geralt wants to start anyway. She might even be a little... excited? Hopeful? Very tentatively. ]

[ He waits for Ciri in the stables, Roach already set to go. Even for shorter day trips, Geralt has a habit of packing as usual—never a downside to being prepared—and the sky is only beginning to lighten as they ride. (He gives her breakfast along the way.)

He lets Ciri choose the spot, one she's familiar with and feels safe practicing in. He makes sure there are no monsters nearby that might be attracted, no signs of recent travellers or wagons.

Nenneke taught him a long time ago. He has not forgotten her lessons. Aard is the first one he learned. It's the easiest Sign for a Witcher boy to grasp, requiring only a quick burst of magic redirected and no lengthy concentration. For Ciri, though, he thinks it may remind her too much of her scream. He wants to find something that won't echo a power she's always had difficulty controlling. ]

We'll start with Yrden. [ He leads her to a small cave entrance. ] When I first learned this, it would always shatter instantly. Nenneke told me to think of it not as keeping something out, but sealing it in. A containment. [ He lifts his hand and as his fingers close, the magic hums. A faint glow forms over the opening. ]

[ It's an easy, comfortable trip spent mostly in familiar silence. She has an idea of where to go, somewhere she's practiced before, and they tie up their horses nearby to give themselves room. Geralt had suggested somewhere with mixed terrain, but luckily there are plenty of rocks and hills and caves in the desert.

She watches him. The Sign is not unfamiliar, but she pays dutifully close attention anyway, as if she might suddenly be struck by some sort of new revelation. In the end, all she has to do is try it. ]

How long did it take you to learn it?

[ When the glow dissipates, she steps forward to make an attempt of her own. Ciri forms the sign with her hand, at first without any intent behind it, just to see. Then, she tries again, focused on the cave entrance. She imagines the glow Geralt had put there a minute ago, a containment, attempting to replicate it.

There is a flash of light across the entrance of the cave, sharper than the faint glow from before, but it only lasts a moment. ]

Oh, bollocks.

[ Him? Geralt considers. ] A week or two. Longer to use it in combat.

[ That one was a matter of experience—the same way a Witcher learns anything. Being tossed out there to fend for yourself. Nenneke only ever taught them how to form the Signs. The rest, applying it, Vesemir took care of.

He studies Ciri carefully. The last time she tried, she couldn't grasp it at all. Here, a bright glow shines before it sputters out. It isn't perfect, but it's much more than she'd managed in the past.

And nothing's broken. ]

Not bad. [ He settles on a nearby boulder. ] Focus on building it. You can work on how quick you are afterwards.

I wasn't trying to do it quickly. [ She argues, already growing frustrated. ]

It just won't hold.

[ But it hadn't done something it shouldn't, exactly. It hadn't become a force that shook apart the whole cave or anything like that. It was just difficult to maintain -- but practice should help with that, as Geralt said.

Ciri takes a deep breath, rolling her shoulders back, visibly trying to calm down. Don't get frustrated. Just work on it.

She tries again, to the same result, but this time she gives it a moment and then keeps at it. ]

[ He can almost hear Ciri argue before she says it. Geralt lets her get her frustrations out; waits patiently for her to try again.

It is working. She needs practice, but her magic isn't failing the way he's seen it before: either not working at all or exploding with too much power. A small scorpion scurries forward—bounces off the barrier when it flickers on for a brief moment.

Time passes as she continues to work. The opening over the cave glows and wanes in turn. Geralt does not interrupt, watches her and occasionally watches the desert around them to make sure nothing will disrupt. The sun moves steadily higher into the sky, hidden behind a sparse cloud or two.

Only when something changes—a noise or brighter flash—does he look back over at Ciri. ]

[ Ciri is nothing if not stubborn. Despite her frustrations, she keeps at it, a bit encouraged that at least nothing is exploding. Nothing happening at all isn't ideal either, but little by little, she begins to figure out how to hold onto the magic, how to feel it when it tries to escape too fast and hold it in place instead. This is far from the sort of thing she usually does, and that makes it at once much harder but also in a way easier to keep in check. When she uses too much power, all the barrier does is glow brighter and then disappear too fast; she's not risking toppling the whole cave.

Occasionally, it flashes bright and she struggles to hold it. She curses under her breath, or complains aloud to Geralt, but she keeps at it. The morning passes that way, until she's tired and sweaty, but has made some visible progress. Now, the glow -- more moderate, not too bright -- stays in place for three or four seconds in a row without falling apart.

When the sun gets too hot, Ciri takes a break, pressing herself close to the rock outcropping to try to glean some shade as she drinks from her waterskin. ]

Too bad there's no Sign for a cooling breeze. Or a block of ice.

[ The hours tick by, enough of them that Geralt's starting to consider telling Ciri to have a rest, if she doesn't do so on her own soon. She does, and—

He hands over her waterskin while the barest breeze serves only to stir the hot air around. ]

Might be possible to make one. In theory. [ Signs are just harnessing a simplified form of Chaos; this world is full of it. Going by that, Geralt assumes he could, with enough time and effort, functionally use a cooling spell as a Sign of its own. But it's something that's easily done with a cooling tonic bought at the apothecary instead, so he's found little reason to expand his Signs in that manner.

He considers, though, if Ciri might be able to do so. Once she discovers sufficient control over her Signs, she could create others for her own use. It's a budding thought, at least.

For now, though, her steady grasp over one Sign is enough to focus on. ] You nearly have it.

In theory. [ Ciri echoes with a snort. Which means he'll never bother, probably. There are spells that do what Ciri is describing with ease for those who are practiced in such things, but with her luck, she'll form a blizzard and they'll freeze to death. Instead, she just pours a little water in her hands and pats her face and neck with it. ]

You think? [ She grimaces, uncertain, but it's true that there's been some improvement. ]

How about the other one, though? Quen? I'm bored of trying the same thing over and over.

[ And shield Signs are safer bets than attacks. ]

You're a quicker study than Lambert. [ Gently teasing, because everyone was a quicker study than Lambert when it came to magic and Ciri knows that. He means it, though: she's grasped it without the usual...complications. An encouraging sign.

Strictly speaking, focusing on one over and over makes quicker progress. But he understands the monotony. A barrier and a shield—they're both safer to learn and useful for when she travels out.

He glances up at the sun, decides they have a couple more hours before it's best to end the day. ]

It's similar to Yrden. [ He demonstrates: a near-invisible shield that hums and shatters on contact. She can work up to the other, a channeled variation that holds for longer—but Quen is simpler to start with. ]

[ That actually gets a little laugh out of her. ]

At least there's that. Not all hope is lost for me, then.

[ Again, she watches, tries to emulate him. She listens to instruction well when she actually wants to, and right now, she wants to learn; Geralt is right that Ciri will keep practicing and pushing herself, trying to see progress, for as long as it takes, even as the hours pass by. He reminds her every so often to take a minute, have some water, especially when the sun is at its hottest and they seek better shade with the shifting angle of it. Having anticipated being out here for some time, they've brought more food and take some time to eat it, during which Ciri alternates between frustration at not seeing immediate improvement and excitement over not seeing immediate failure either. ]

[ There's a small smile in return. He's learned, maybe, as Ciri continues how much he should prod her not to push too hard and how much he knows pushing is needed. He's been as stubborn as she was once. (Probably still is, in several ways.)

He shows her a few different methods of approaching it, but by and large, he lets her instincts guide her. It surprises him a little, how right it feels, being out here with her. As though he'd been wanting this without realizing it. Because he remembers training her, has that in his past now (or is it his future?), but he'd also accepted that in Abraxas, with Ciri several years older and more skilled than most men, he hasn't much left to teach her.

Which is good. It is. It means he taught her well. But the loss of those memories bothers him deep down. Like he missed a long road. Missed those years of them together that he can't get back.

This is—it fills that space, maybe. Being able to watch her learn anew, frustrations and all.

When the sun grows lower in the sky and their supply of food and water begin to dwindle, he gathers his sword—which he's been oiling while he watches her—and readies to leave.

He walks towards her, waits patiently by the spot under a shaded cliff she's chosen. ] We'll practice some more tomorrow.

[ CLOSED ] head down, hands up

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