[He’s climbed the stairs, which creak under each footstep. Something wrong about this immediately pings at his nerves and gives him that telltale feeling of unease. If Ciri was here, then why isn’t she responding? Had she already left? He would have seen her go out the front, and he is almost certain he would have heard her exit; the hollowness of this house amplifies every prominent movement.
Instinct has him gripping the hilt of his sword. Maybe it wasn’t her — or maybe she wasn’t alone. The possibilities churn through his mind—maybe the undead got her, maybe she’s dead, maybe you weren’t fast enough, the whisper in his head suggests—but he keeps a steady pace down the upstairs corridor, the brightness of his eyes casting sickly green light against the deepest shadows.
The hallway turns up ahead, his shadows splays across the wall. And then, interrupting the eerie stillness, Ciri lurches out from across the corner with her blade shining in the light spilling through the adjacent window.]
What are you—
[The sentence is cut off by the clang of steel as Sephiroth raises his own blade to catch and cross against hers. Were it not for years of training, she might have actually skewered him, and suddenly his heart is thudding in his chest, the usual shot of adrenaline careening through his veins.
He holds his ground. He doesn’t even push back. She must have thought he was someone else—]
no subject
Instinct has him gripping the hilt of his sword. Maybe it wasn’t her — or maybe she wasn’t alone. The possibilities churn through his mind—maybe the undead got her, maybe she’s dead, maybe you weren’t fast enough, the whisper in his head suggests—but he keeps a steady pace down the upstairs corridor, the brightness of his eyes casting sickly green light against the deepest shadows.
The hallway turns up ahead, his shadows splays across the wall. And then, interrupting the eerie stillness, Ciri lurches out from across the corner with her blade shining in the light spilling through the adjacent window.]
What are you—
[The sentence is cut off by the clang of steel as Sephiroth raises his own blade to catch and cross against hers. Were it not for years of training, she might have actually skewered him, and suddenly his heart is thudding in his chest, the usual shot of adrenaline careening through his veins.
He holds his ground. He doesn’t even push back. She must have thought he was someone else—]
Ciri, stand down! It’s me.