abraxaslogs | INTRO LOG #2

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INTRO LOG #2

Intro Log #2

It has been two months now since the initial group of summonings first took place. Castle Thorne, or at least the part above ground, is buzzing with a vibrant air of hope following the 'success' at the Singularity. Eager smiles and excited chattering are to be found in nearly every corner of the castle and surrounding town. The honored guests may find grateful looks turned their way more often than not. A new and brighter day seems to be dawning on the kingdom.

In the dungeons it's a different story entirely. The mood is somber and uneasy. The prisoner taken for trial has yet to return, and no word has come regarding her or her fate. There has been no mention of any further trials as of yet and guards seem to have little patience for unruly behavior or even conversation. Some seem to not even look at or acknowledge the prisoners at all.

[ Feel free to continue threads from the TDM here or start your own! As cell and room assignments will be short-lived due to this month's event, you're free to assume whichever cellmates and roommates you like instead of officially signing up as long as there are ICly no more than four people in a cell or room at once. ]

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So that's a 'yes,' then. How bad?

[ She remembers suddenly the way he'd lurched under her weight when she rushed at him earlier to hug him. She'd thought it was shock. Maybe it was more. ]

What happened?

[ No, she's not ready to change the subject back. ]

[ There's a brief moment where Geralt only frowns at her. It's occurring to him, if she's met him, even if he doesn't remember. Was it in those woods? Or later? It can't be too much later. Instinct tells him it was then. It had to be. Didn't it?

He ignores her first question, because she might not be ready to move on, but he's not here to discuss a bite that no longer matters. It's a mild inconvenience at best.

But there is something he realizes will answer his questions more than anything else. ]

Shouldn't you know that? If we met as we did?

[ She couldn't be sure. Not until he said that. After all, a Witcher's job is dangerous, and there'd been plenty of time between Cintra's fall and the day they'd met in the woods; Ciri couldn't come to that conclusion immediately. But now that she's there, she understands. ]

You were bitten. Defending a merchant. Yurga.

[ Ciri answers quietly, but confidently, all the while watching Geralt's expression. ]

And lucky for you, Yurga was an honorable man. He did not leave you there, but helped you with your wounds and took you home in his wagon.

[ This is where her voice falters. ]

But you said we'd never met.

[ He's watching her in return, just as carefully. Unsettling, to stare into the eyes of a young woman and not the child he expected to see. Is he waiting for her to tell him she doesn't remember? That there's even more wrong with what Ambrose has done? (What would that even prove?)

But she does know. For a moment, he's quiet. He still doesn't understand what it means. If she's here and yet...isn't. Then what remains of them within their world? ]

I wasn't certain. [ He shifts his weight. ] I was taken before I laid eyes on you. But I'd heard—I could've sworn I heard.

[ Footsteps. In the disorienting trip out of the well, he'd thought...maybe he was wrong. But she's here, telling him he'd been right. Only she holds memories far beyond that moment. How the fuck? It'd been less difficult to accept, when it'd been Jaskier and Yennefer. They weren't near each other. Hadn't seen each other in a year. The princess, though—

She'd been steps away. ]

Cirilla. [ His push towards the topic is gentler this time. ] If you know something about this here, you need to tell me.

Ciri. [ She corrects immediately, shaking her head. ]

Please. Call me Ciri.

[ The rage has left her, leaving only the confusion and a nagging, insistent discomfort in the pit of her stomach. An improvement from the sharp panic of earlier, at least. Finally giving her a little room to breathe, and think. ]

Why don't we sit down?

[ She gestures at one of the benches. It's not much, but it looks sturdy enough. If Geralt's leg is bothering him, it'll be better. And besides, she feels like she's just run a marathon herself with the sudden surge and fading of adrenaline from the cold shock. ]

[ Ciri. The name sits strangely to him, where she no doubt believes it shouldn't. The intensity of her emotion earlier had almost been simpler to handle. Now she's calmer, and he has time to think. He has time to realize he isn't certain he wants to hear what she's about to tell him. Even if he's the one who asked for it in the first place.

He sits. If they're both out of time...has anyone else experienced the same? With friends from their own spheres? Not that he's heard of. He's spoken to a handful. So has Jaskier. Not once has it come up. A few pieces do slot in further, though: the fact that more than a handful here refer to inventions, equipment, that Geralt's never heard of. The unrecognizable kitchen he'd stepped into in Sam's home.

He keeps his thoughts to himself, for now. Instead, he simply waits for Cirilla to say what she intends to say. ]

[ Ciri is glad that at least he doesn't argue with this. She sinks down onto the bench beside him, though not as close as she'd have liked to be. Not with the awkwardness between them.

With a sigh, she takes a few moments to collect herself, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. Her eyes watch the floor a few feet in front of them, without really registering it.

The disappointment and uncertainty feel like physical weights on her chest that she has to fight to lift with each breath. ]

I don't know how they brought us here. I certainly don't know how they managed to bring you here from so many years past.

This isn't simply a matter of being transported across worlds. You have to understand, from my point of view... this can't happen. You're not supposed to be here. You're supposed to be in Yurga's wagon, on your way to me. If you aren't there when you should be--

[ This is all so confusing. Ciri leans down, pressing her palms over her eyes.

Again, in desperation though without any real hope, she reaches for the void of power missing inside of her and comes up empty.

How could they even do this? What have they done to her? To Geralt? To her past?

None of this is right. ]

[ Even sitting down, the ground continues to fall away underneath. He plants his feet on the grass and remembers to breathe.

She doesn't need to explain further. Realization crosses his features. His eyes grow sharper. He understands. He understands what she's saying. Why this aura of fear and confusion surrounds her. He's beginning to feel it, too. It seeps into his bones, as what she means dawns on him. It should've occurred to him sooner, really, if he hadn't had so much shit to pull apart. ]

You think they've disrupted our paths. [ He says it quietly. He'd feared losing her again. Had been caught up in what he could do to return her to the place she should be. Now he's starting to grasp that there may no longer be a place for her to return to. For any of them. Because they're here instead. And whatever force that caused this—it might've diverted their roads in directions unknown.

From my point of view. He watches her steadily. ] You speak as if you have experience traversing worlds.

[ It scares here more that she knows. Her experience training with Avallac'h and trying to understand how to use her abilities only makes her more keenly aware of how powerful and dangerous crossing the borders between worlds can be. And the idea that someone can pull her and Geralt and who knows how many others out of their own timelines is yet another level to that sort of power that she's never experienced or fully been able to grasp. There's no one who can answer her questions here.

Without looking up, Ciri replies in a tired, quiet voice. ]

That's right. I do.

[ Of course he doesn't know. Yet. ]

[ His fingers run over the rough wood of the bench. Pavetta's magic had been powerful, but nothing wildly unusual. Nothing extraordinary. It stands to reason Cirilla might've inherited something from her mother. But if what she's implying is true, then this goes far beyond a little magic in her bloodline. It goes beyond anything the entire Continent has known.

Then again. So does this. This sphere, with its mages who wield magic with an ease and power that's unsettling. And. Fuck. She doesn't even know that Jaskier is now capable of it, too. That the chaos here runs through everyone who touches it.

He wants to ask how. How it's possible she's traveled between spheres before now. He doesn't. It isn't important, not in this moment. She sounds lost and defeated. And he hasn't a fucking clue what he means to her, so far removed from the man she's seemingly known her whole life. What it means for him. Still. They're here. He can't unravel every complication in one sitting. But there are still problems he can solve. Immediate ones. The rest—the rest he'll sort out when he gets there. ]

We need to get out of here first. Before anything else. [ He pauses, considering. ] They retrieved one of the prisoners not too long ago. Hasn't been back since. I suspect they're beginning to move their pieces into place.

[ Which means opportunity. When plans are put in motion, when changes are made: that's when things fall through the cracks. It's only a matter of time. ]

[ There's silence for a little while, the discomfort between them settling like a dense fog. She can feel the distance in the space from one side to the other of the bench as though it were a chasm, and can only wish that Geralt would reach across it-- but she doesn't want to ask.

Finally, Ciri lifts her head, rubbing her eyes and pushing back her hair. ]

How long have you been imprisoned here?

[ Moving towards more practical matters is a better plan. Geralt looks back. It's... he's not certain if glad is the right word. But it means something, doesn't it? That she grew up? Seems to have grown up all right? He's trying not to think of his part in it—what his part was, what it had been. What it might never be now. It's more than he wants to dwell on. ]

Nine weeks. Little over. [ He sits forward, elbows resting on his knees. A hell of a lot has happened in that time.

He turns what he's learned over in his head. Jon had not been lying about that book. He knows that much. As absurd as its ability sounds, he has no reason to scoff at what he's been told when he can see the evidence of it scattered around. And if it's true, then Cirilla— ]

It's possible they know. What you've done before. Your...travelling. [ He studies her. The question there is clear, but he's careful not to push for too much all at once. Shit. Him, Jaskier, even Yen: it'd been concerning, what the High Mage was seeking from them. But Geralt had presumed it was no different than the rest. That they were to be used in a similar manner. But her. If she's passed through doors before, would the High Mage have a particular interest? Or is that something that, even to him, is not unusual?

It does not occur to him that she might've travelled entirely through her own power. Only that she's experienced this phenomenon before, somehow, through another source. ]

Thorne believes an ancient power resides within this sphere, that connects untold worlds. They mean to harness it through us to prevent a calamity from befalling. Or so they say.

Edited (words.) 2021-08-11 14:02 (UTC)

[ Ciri stiffens visibly. Her head jerks up, turning fully to face Geralt now, green eyes wide and cheeks pale.

Of course she's thought of it. She's been trying to figure out why she was brought here since the first hour, with the potential answers only growing murkier the more people she's met in her short stay within the dungeon so far. But she's been treated the same as all the other prisoners, and no one else she's met has powers that relate to interdimensional travel; the mages hadn't mentioned it to her at all after dragging her out of the abyss and shuffling her off down here. In fact, she'd been told she was summoned unintentionally, and for this reason is to be kept imprisoned. Besides, it's not like she's tried to ask the High Mage or any of his assistants why she can't feel the core of the power that would allow her to go home. Thus, she assumed -- tentatively, but with a little bit of hope -- that they do not know.

Not having been given much information by their keepers initially, and also considering she's only been here about a day, this is the first that Ciri's heard of what Geralt is saying regarding the Singularity or Thorne's intentions for it.

For Ciri, it all lands far too close to home. ]

Wh-what? [ Her voice shakes for a moment. Her lungs feel cold. ] That's not-- They can't know.

[ Without thinking, Ciri reaches across to grab Geralt's arm, leaning closer urgently, the fear in her eyes unmistakable. ]

They are searching for this power now? Within those they've summoned?

[ The information is disquieting. He's aware of that, when he said it. Her reaction is far more than that. Geralt doesn't move when she grabs hold of him. His fingers twitch. ]

Not searching. They have it. They call it the Singularity. It's that they haven't yet found a way to access it without their own self-destruction.

[ The details of the Singularity are on the tip of his tongue. The Horizon. The fact that the thread of it that connects them now hums inside him in a way that's nearly alarming. But there's a more urgent matter he can't shake. He's still, more than he usually is -- searching her face, her eyes. He's missing something. A piece of the puzzle that, throughout this entire conversation, continues to sit just out of his reach. And truth be told, he's only been making half-hearted attempts to grasp it, afraid of what he'll uncover. Busying himself with other equally pressing concerns about their situation. Now he finds he can't put it off any longer. ]

Cirilla. [ He hesitates. ] Ciri. What aren't you telling me? What are you so afraid of?

I... don't understand.

[ The term Singularity sounds slightly familiar; she thinks she heard the mages muttering to each other about it when she was first brought here, but there was only so little time for questions, and she's still forming a full picture in her mind about what this place and their captors even are.

Despite Geralt's answer, she does not relax. Nor does she release her grip on Geralt's forearm.

Ciri swallows hard, looking away, struggling to figure out where to start. ]

Have you... heard of Ithlinne's Prophecy?

[ No. Neither does he. He's finding he understands less and less, the more he speaks to her. The more he learns about this place, this world. Grasping at broken strings.

—Wait. Geralt's brows draw into a deeper furrow. What does that have to do with anything? He remembers, though, suddenly. In Cintra, inside the princess' room. The mutterings of a Nilfgaardian soldier. He hadn't paid it any mind at the time. Why would he? The Continent is full of bullshit prophecies. If she's bringing it up now, though...

He tugs at the recesses of his memories, into the old writings he's flipped through here and there. ]

What. The elf? 'Blood of Aen Seidhe'? [ He shakes his head. Of course he's heard. He knows of it in the same way one might know of the Curse of the Black Sun. Stories. Some truth to it or no, it makes no difference in the end. None of these harbingers of doom have ever come to pass in all of his years. ] What about it?

[ Her shoulders rise as Ciri takes a deep, bracing breath. She nods, letting it out in a sigh, and finally lets go of Geralt to press her hands into her lap, folded between her thighs. One knee bounces slightly with the tap of her foot, restless and clearly uncomfortable. ]

Yes. You probably know the part about The White Frost and how it's to be the end of the world. There's more.

There's someone, so it says -- a descendant of the Elder Blood, who is meant to lead the Elves to safety. To a new home. Someone with powers that can transcend from one sphere to the next, and open the door between worlds.

[ She looks at him again then, meeting Geralt's eyes with heavy meaning, and no small amount of misery. ]

Powers such as mine.

[ More. His skin is cold where her hand leaves him. For a long moment, he's silent. He hears what she's saying. He hears that she's telling him this prophecy is about her. That she possesses Elder Blood. He hears it and none of it makes any fucking sense. ]

I... [ Fuck. Fuck. This isn't right. This can't be right. The idea that she was his, what. His Child of Destiny? That some calamity would befall the world if she were not claimed by him? That had been impossible enough. (It was not Destiny that had driven him back to Cintra to find her.) But this, he's.

He wants to tell her she must be mistaken. He knows she isn't. He can see it in her eyes. See that she not only believes what she's saying, she's lived it already. This is why she's told him in no uncertain terms he can't be here. ]

You can't leave. [ That realization sinks in. If she could have escaped that easily, she'd have done so already. Whatever has sealed his mutations has sealed her Elder Blood, too. How? Is the magic drawn from the Singularity that powerful? Another beat goes by. Is it possible? That the High Mage would know this much? Then why lock her away as one of the so-called mistakes? Perhaps—he doesn't know the whole truth. Nothing says that book of his is correctly interpreted at all times.

He nearly tells her that Jaskier and Yennefer are here, too. He stops himself. He's no idea if Cirilla's ever met them. They'd been long from speaking terms by the time he'd returned to Cintra, by the time he'd stepped into those woods—and Geralt doesn't want to know either way. Not right now. So he keeps their names to himself. It isn't important. The only important thing is to get her as far away from Thorne as possible. ]

You can't stay here. [ He leans forward. His nails dig into the soft rotting wood of the bench. ] If they've deemed your summoning an accident—they don't know the full story. They can't learn any of this.

[ Ciri watches his expression change, the gears turning, until he understands. The conclusion he's come to is bolstered by her silent, solemn nod.

And then he catches up the rest of the way, and Ciri almost flinches back in surprise when he's the one who suddenly leans closer to her. Now he gets why she was so panicked to learn this is what the mages of Thorne are after. And he doesn't even know the half of it. ]

No. They cannot. [ Ciri agrees, voice low. ] You will keep my secret. [ It's not a question; she knows he will. ] But now you understand.

The problem is, I don't understand how they could have-- Or whatever method they used for this summoning, perhaps it caused this... this absence. That's what it feels like.

[ Her lips twist in a wry smile, holding no mirth. ]

At least it means I cannot draw the Wild Hunt down upon us by using my abilities. They're after me too, you see.

Edited (wording...) 2021-08-12 05:58 (UTC)

[ What? ] The Red Riders are a tale.

[ Even as the words leave his mouth, he knows that's not true. Not any longer. Prophecies and omens of war. What else? He absorbs it all quietly. An absence, she calls it. In a way, he understands. He feels that same absence with so much of himself stripped away.

He realizes, too, even if they escape, even if she can regain this power of hers—he can't ask her to use it, can he? Not without risking her life. ]

They've found a way to suppress all of our...abilities. At least while the enchantment holds. [ He takes a deep breath. ] We need to get you past these walls first. There's nothing more we can solve until then.

[ One problem at a time. It's how he's always operated, and the magnitude of this entire mess doesn't change that. ]

They are not. [ But she doesn't speak further on the matter; if Geralt asks further, she will answer, but for now, the Hunt isn't their problem. The fact there there are apparently equally powerful (or even more powerful?) forces in this sphere messing with all of their lives is far more pressing. They're pulling dozens of people in from all manner of worlds, and Ciri can't be sure whether or not her appearance here was truly an accident on their part.

Either way, she and Geralt both agree: no one can know the true extent of her powers. ]

I am not certain it will make a difference. I don't think any mere enchantment can be enough to remove... that. But you're right. First things first.

We both get out of here.

[ That. It may be so. He doesn't know enough to draw conclusions either way. His mind backtracks, considering who he's met here that might be useful, might be a threat -- might be both. He's aware he's not...who she knew, back home, and that he doesn't know her, either. Not like that. Not in the way she would want, in the way that she'd so clearly hoped when she'd first laid eyes on him. But she's still important to him, if only because he'd made a promise to himself he hadn't been able to keep back then. And if what she's said is true, he might be all she has now, too.

So he doesn't argue when she says we. If she needs him along, then he'll make certain he is. ]

We. [ How he'll manage it is another story. Still, the tension grows by the day between the guards. Something is stirring, and he's willing to take advantage if the chance arises. The urgency of the situation has shifted. Where he'd largely only had himself to be concerned about, with Jaskier safer within the court, things have changed now. ]

I know it isn't as you expected. [ That he is not as she expected. He glances up at her. ] But you can trust me.

[ She stops fidgeting, the tension in her shoulders loosening just a bit. Ciri lifts a hand to push some of her messy hair behind her ear. It's loose around her shoulders, since she arrived here without so much as a pin to put it up, a bit tangled and in need of a wash. The breath she lets out feels like a weight lifting.

When she looks at him again, she's smiling, reassured. ]

I know.

[ Ciri scoots a little closer. ]

Thanks.

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INTRO LOG #2

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