abraxaslogs | [ CATCH-ALL ] the wishes I've made are too vicious to tell

(( backdated to Event #10 - Affliction; continued from here ))

[ They fall. Her hand slips out of Geralt's, and the next thing she knows is darkness, the stomach-dropping horror of nothing beneath her feet -- then cold. She lands in snow, rolls, and comes up gasping and coughing in front of the stables at Kaer Morhen. Exactly where she'd started what feels like a whole day ago.

Upon the realization that she's within the normal purview of the Horizon, Ciri does what she was unable to all that time within the maze. She leaves, as quickly and uneventfully as possible.

It's almost strange, when she wakes up, that her body doesn't hurt. Her throat isn't raw from screaming. Her knees aren't bruised. Hands devoid of blood.

She scrambles to her feet inside her own room, in the safety of the apartment where the smell of baking bread wafts in through the cracked-open window and the late afternoon light pours in golden across the floral patterns of her rug. It had been morning when she left, but nothing else has changed.

Heart pounding, Ciri shoves on some nearby boots on her way out the door, and lurches breathlessly into the living room beyond. ]

Jaskier?

[ She hopes he's home. Geralt hadn't been, earlier, but-- ]

Geralt?

[ She tries anyway, just needing someone to be here right now. ]

[ Geralt is not home, no, but he makes his way there quickly. As soon as he's out of the Horizon, that's where he goes. His head is clearer out here, he realizes. Less full of noise, fewer bubbling emotions threatening to spill over. Part of him is afraid he might not find her out here, though, but he swallows it down. Until he doesn't, there's no point in fretting.

Still. Immense relief floods him when he opens the door and sees her inside. ]

Ciri! [ He strides towards her, gathering her up in his arms. She's unharmed, of course. As is he. None of the injuries followed him out, and the only blood on him, stained under his nails, is that of a deer recently butchered. Feels like lifetimes ago. And yet. He's fairly certain not even a day has passed. The sun has only started to sink below the horizon.

It's good to hold her in the physical world. Where she's solid, where he knows she will not disappear from his sight. ] You're all right?

[ Just her luck. No Geralt, and no Jaskier either -- but Mog is home. The little beast chirps inquisitively and waddles over when he senses her distress, and Ciri scoops him up with an almost-sob catching in her throat. She sinks into a chair in front of the cold hearth, burying her face into his feathers, and trying to understand what just happened.

If she'd been thinking straight, she might have tried to send a message to Jaskier or Geralt, but for a few minutes, Ciri doesn't think of it. Mog is a fine distraction; by the time Geralt actually opens the door, she's calmed down significantly.

Releasing the small gryphon, Ciri moves to stand as soon as he steps closer. She hugs him back, and her shoulders start shaking again. ]

Yes. I think so.

[ Even after he releases her, he doesn't step far away, his hands still on her arm. She looks shaken, and the truth is, so is he. He feels as though he hasn't had a chance to breathe for days. In some ways, he's grateful that he can at least focus on Ciri. It takes his mind off his own troubles. ]

Good. [ He leans down to light the hearth; the night is settling in, and temperatures will fall quickly. Then he hangs a small pot of last night's supper over the fire. Not all things can be fixed with a warm meal, but it won't hurt. ] Would you like to tell me what happened?

[ It can wait, if she wants. But he isn't actually sure what happened, and perhaps it might help to get it off her chest. All he knows is that she had looked at him without any recognition, and then—she'd attacked him. Those two things can't be related; Ciri would not strike someone simply because they appeared a stranger to her. It must've...something about the way he looked in her eyes. She'd been afraid of him, almost. ]

[ She knows it is a genuine question, not an expectation that she'll simply tell him. Ciri takes a moment, takes a breath, and nods. But she doesn't say anything for a few minutes.

Instead, she watches him light the fire, get the pot, and she sits on the sofa to warm her hands while he works.

Even after taking some time to gather her thoughts, and considering what had happened while she'd been waiting for someone to come home, she still has no clear answers. But she has... an inkling, slowly coalescing into an idea. ]

I think it had to do with Jo. I remember thinking she was important to me, that I needed to protect her. After I spoke with her-- touched her, I think. Everything else seemed strange, and I couldn't...

[ Her voice catches. Ciri pauses to take a shaky breath before she can continue. ]

I couldn't remember you. But you didn't look... like you, either.

You looked like one of those undead. I didn't know what you were.

It sounds insane, saying it now, but I just remember how it felt. It was awful, Geralt.

...I'm sorry.

[ He's patient while lets her think, going about his task without seeming as though he's waiting on her reply. The gryphon crawls forth, scenting food as a bloodhound on a hunt. Geralt firmly removes the creature before it can dive into the pot.

Not until she's ready does he join on her the couch. The stew begins to bubble gently. Her explanation should be hard to swallow, but it isn't. What happened that day, that week. He wishes he could have protected her from it, but he knows wishes are futile.

He lays his hand over hers. She sounds lost, and something in his chest tightens. She has nothing to apologize for. ]

That place. It toyed with all of us. [ He doesn't need to ask to understand what it really means, for Ciri to have...forgotten him. And he remembers, too, a time he did not know her, genuinely. The painful way she looked at him. ] Jo and I weren't spared, either.

[ She isn't alone, he means. Something in there consumed all of them. ]

Before we met—the labyrinth. Did it do anything else to you?

Edited 2022-11-30 03:52 (UTC)

[ Ciri nudges Mog with her foot automatically, poking him until he gives up on the pot and lays down by her feet instead.

She squeezes Geralt's hand in silence for a few long seconds. There is more she wants to say, but she can't find the words to put to the feelings, the lingering unease, the hole of that emptiness where everything good in her life had been ripped away and left her feeling the ache even now that it's all mended. Maybe it wouldn't have affected her so badly if it was something entirely from some effect of the Singularity or the maze or whatever had caused it. But it all felt too familiar, in the aftermath. Brought up too many bad memories.

Reminded her how utterly terrified she is of losing the tentative happiness they've built here.

Ciri swallows, fighting down the lump in her throat. ]

U-um... it turned my sword into a snake?

[ She manages after a moment, a little distracted. ]

...what happened with you and Jo?

[ He squeezes her hand in turn, reassurance that he's here, that he isn't leaving her. Is it enough? Is he enough? Geralt no longer doubts his place in Ciri's life as he had at the start, but there are times when this world makes him feel as though he is clinging so fucking desperately to keep what he's found. With the distance between he and Yennefer, even with the steps they've made in recent weeks—

He thinks of Nenneke saying balance, and he isn't sure if he's provided that for her. Perhaps it's simply lingering fears and uncertainties, expanded as they were inside those long, twisting corridors.

He releases a breath, relieved and bemused. A snake. That's all then? That's some comfort, that her time was not...as fucked as his. ]

No snakes. There were wolves, though. [ He pauses, then adds with typical frankness, ] Revisited pleasant memories.

[ He's exhausted. She must be, too. But he suspects sleep will be elusive for both of them right now. For him, he feels...unmoored. As though closing his eyes might send him falling back into the Horizon. ]

Jaskier will be home soon. [ Unless something were to go awry. He refuses to entertain the thought. ] We could get a head start on the wine.

[ Throw dice. Fuss with that feathery nuisance. It matters little, the precise nature. He just wants to steadily put the Horizon's nightmares behind them, piece by piece. Find their footing in the real world again. And maybe remind Ciri she is home, that nothing's actually been lost as she feared. ]

Mm. [ Pleasant, indeed. She lets out a huff of a breath that isn't exactly a laugh, but close enough, at his wry humor. Her head drops on his shoulder, and for a few moments, she just closes her eyes. Mog is warm against her ankle. ]

...that sounds nice.

[ She realizes she'll feel better with Jaskier home too. It's not rare that they're all here together, but it's not that frequent either. Enough that it still feels like an occasion, almost. Right now, after getting lost in that utter sense of loneliness even for however briefly it had been, the idea of all of them spending the evening together sounds like exactly the sort of thing that might finally chase the lingering discomfort away. ]

And you'll stay here tonight?

[ He slips his arm around her. They really could use a night with the three of them. ]

I'm not going anywhere. I promise.

[ Of course he's staying. He leaves only to retrieve the wine, a set of cards and dice, some fruit and cheese. Mog ambles over to join them, and he lays the spread on the ground. It's quiet, a little somber, but that's to be expected.

Geralt ends up staying more than just the night. He's there for the rest of the week, returning home in the evenings or in the mornings—making effort to see Ciri at least once in the day. ]

[ CATCH-ALL ] the wishes I've made are too vicious to tell

for geralt; late october.

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sorry for delay!!

<3

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covers timestamp as i finally wrap this.