Wᴇʟʟ, I'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴜɴ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜɪᴅɪɴ'

[righteously]

Who: Winchester & Co.
When: September
Where: Free Cities, Libertas, & the Horizon
What: Quests, training, or Roadhouse socializing.
Warnings: Suicidal tendencies, alcoholism, other psychological traumas.

Aɴᴅ I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜᴇs I'ᴍ ᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ
Aɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴀᴅ ɢᴏᴇs ᴏɴ ғᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ
Aɴᴅ I'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ sɪʟᴠᴇʀ ᴅᴏʟʟᴀʀ
Bᴜᴛ I'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʟᴇᴛ 'ᴇᴍ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴍᴇ, ɴᴏ
Nᴏᴛ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʟᴇᴛ 'ᴇᴍ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ ʀɪᴅᴇʀ

Comments

[wiedzminka]

What are you talking about?

[ Ciri snaps, and she doesn't mean the marshmallows (yes, she does know what s'mores are by now, and no, understanding the reference doesn't make her appreciate it any more).

Her chin tips up, eyes bright and indignant, as she steps closer into his space, like she might somehow become taller than him just by barging into his personal bubble. ]

Fuck your priorities list. You want to play the hero, it's on your own head.

No one asked you to burn for me, Dean Winchester.

[righteously]

Awesome. ( Answered immediately, unrepentantly, and with a little jerk of his chin. On your own head — yep, he's fine with that. One hundred percent cool with it.

And no, nobody asked him to — but nobody needed to ask him to. At this point, what he promised Geralt in that dream? That's not steering a damn thing anymore, not really, it's completely unnecessary. Ciri's family, that's strong enough to stand on its own. More than enough to get him to burn for her, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Hell, it barely even takes that much to get Dean Winchester throwing his ass in a fire anymore.

Sounds like they're on the same page there (not at all), so: ) Good talk. Glad we hashed that out.

[wiedzminka]

[ To her, it sounds sarcastic at best, a retort to throw in her face, as if she's the one being unreasonable here. Ciri bristles, lips twisting, a grimace just shy of baring her teeth in a snarl or a mirthless laugh. ]

You didn't even call out.

Let me know you didn't get instantly crushed.

You thought I was going to walk away, just like that?

[righteously]

Yes.

( Obviously, of course he did. Anybody with any goddamn sense would have. )

The friggin' house was coming down, the whole thing was practically a goddamn inferno. Nobody ever should've walked back into that death trap once you got out.

( Not even Geralt. The dude's sturdy, but he's not an angel. He's not immortal, he's not indestructible — the fact that so many of his people died in circumstances not wholly dissimilar to that is a testament to that fact. Arguably, that guy should've been the last person rushing into a structure fire. )

[wiedzminka]

With your blood on my hands?

[ Ciri hisses, between clenched teeth.

Then, suddenly, steps back, shaking her head. If Dean values his life and her abilities so little, she doesn't have the patience to force him to care. They're clearly not having the same conversation here. ]

I don't think so.

Throw yourself on the sword for someone else.

[ She's been the cause of enough deaths. She's had enough. ]

[righteously]

Yeah, sure thing.

( Complete, total deadpan. Punchably dismissive, probably, and he makes not even the slightest effort at softening it up in any way.

The reality is, Dean's kind of an asshole. He's an infuriating person to argue with at times, particularly when he's in one of these moods — convinced he's right, an immovable object that can't be reasoned with or dissuaded. No interest in being diplomatic, still amped up on agitation from the fight, from the mark, from the argument with Geralt.

She said her piece. He won't fight her on it, she can say whatever the hell she wants to.

But he's gonna do whatever he thinks he's gotta do later on down the road, and that's all there is to it. )