treehousing | VOICETESTING.

[ they've made camp for the night — if it can be called camp, the little clearing they've stopped at. geralt has left her alone for a moment there, to get them something to eat, and ciri, though hating being alone again (even if for such a short while), has promised to stay put, wait and hide if she should see anyone else.

it's unlikely, though — the woods seem devoid of people, now.

she sits down. she stands up. she walks a circle one way, then the other.

eventually, she stops next to the horse they're traveling with. ]

You have no problem just standing there and waiting, do you?

[ the horse neighs.

ciri sighs. ]

Right, great conversation. Which stops here, because I'm not crazy. [ ugh. ]

[ The wind sighs. His nose still smells of the corpses and flame in Cintra, slowly being cleared away by the sense of the present moment. The woods are empty — not the stench of a monster or the sound of a person for miles. ]

[ There is him, but Geralt is quiet as a cat as he finds the rabbit. It dies quickly — he would prefer deer, but this will have to do. He appears out of the forest, eyes lit strange by the glow of the fire, then sits. ]

Roach is an excellent choice for conversation.

[ Says the man who talks to her every day, having no other companion. Despite what Jaskier may insist, Geralt is perfectly capable of not brooding. ]

Appropriately enough, it is a dark and stormy night - such cliches are fitting, Sebastian thinks, seeing as how humans are all terribly predictable. Of course the most dreadful night in such a long time would be the night he finally spots something interesting. Dark. Cold. Consuming.

Even in this sorry, dark, shabby inn, with its clientele of lowlife scum, she stands out as she enters, like a spark of fire amidst dying embers. Through all the filth around them, he can practically smell the blood on her. Underneath his black, human cloak he watches her, his burning eyes hidden beneath the hood, before waving the attention of a waitress. A drink to the lady, courtesy of the, ah, gentleman in the corner. When in Rome, do as the humans do, after all.

[ooc: "Sebastian" is an ~exotic demon name~ in this AU, idk.]

[ she runs.

it is still dark, the early hours of the morning, and the leaves crunch below her boots as she tries to keep her pace, running towards —

something that she is meant to find, she is sure. someone. she saw geralt in the dream, she knows it must have been him, for why else would she dream of something if not her destiny? but she'd seen others, too. a woman, shouting for...

yennefer.

who was yennefer? grandmother had never said anything about her. she'd never heard the name before. but whoever it was, she seemed to mean much to the woman who was looking for her... and geralt, too. he'd yelled out her name as well.

well, ciri thinks, when I find him I will know.

she doesn't know how long she has run when she must stop, gasping for breath. it is dawn, now, and there is smoke near. the battle, she thinks with dread, and starts to turn back — she cannot go near it, near where nilfgaard's army must have been.

only, as she turns, she finds herself face to face with someone else. ]

Oh!

[ gasping, eyes wide, staring at the woman in front of her. where did she come from? ]

[ This is the sight she makes: dress singed, hair disheveled, and blood dried along her upper lip and down her chin. There's little to warrant a reaction from Yennefer so soon after unleashing her chaos, for in its wake she's left feeling like one of the empty glass bottles Tissaia gave each of them in earlier years. Catch the lightning. The lightning's abandoned her in the wake of the flames.

And in the wake of the flames, she stumbles away from the clearing. It's empty, anyway. No point in searching when so many were silent in her mind. How long since she'd come to? She wobbles along like a drunkard, aimless in her steps but following some inkling drawing her away from the battle and into the forest.

It's probably delirium. She might be dead and imagining this all in her last moments. Strange that she doesn't think of Geralt. Hmm'ing and grunting Geralt, who played with her feelings with a single wish.

No! She won't think of that ape (even if she misses him). If he'd been at the battle, if he'd witnessed what she'd just done... of course he would have something to say of it. Something good. Something neutral? Even he couldn't stand aside in a battle like this. It wasn't selfish, it was —

A girl. She chirps a noise of surprise, and Yen's left standing there, mute, staring. Where did she come from? She looks like a little bird, frightened enough to abandon an instinct to fly away. ]

You're running the wrong way.

[ It's raspy, ash on her tongue and smoke in her throat. But that mental itch seems to have lessened. ]

The battle's that way. There's nothing left.

VOICETESTING.

LEAVES THISAND RUNS OK BYE

BYE THEN IG

LATER!!

Renfri

Ciri | halp me

IN THE WOODS MEETINGS.

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