Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ofspaceandtime) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2016-11-29 09:44 am
ofspaceandtime) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2016-11-29 09:44 am
Blown in on an icy wind
WHO: Cirilla
WHERE: The fountain
WHEN: November 29
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None yet
STATUS: Open!
The brutal gust of cold, and the Wild Hunt’s vessel suddenly lurked in the sea off the coast of the Isle of Mists where she and Geralt stood.
“Get us outta here.”
“They’ll know where we’ve gone. They’ll know how to find me.”
“They already do. Ciri, take us home.”
The world turned in a flare of aqua light as it always does in her travels, and in her dreams. She wasn’t dreaming this time though, Geralt was there, had found her, and they were finally going home; finally to face Eredin and his hoard head on and come what may.
Except the world wasn’t turning the way it always did, and Geralt wasn’t there (had he ever really been?).
Instead of the solid ground of the keep Ciri expected to find on the other side, she was abruptly submerged in water and rapidly floating upward. Something had gone very wrong; even if this wasn’t the first time she had portaled into (or above) water, she had never lost anyone in transit before.
In fact, as she kicked herself to the surface, it became apparent how much more she had actually lost. She felt as though she was swimming wrapped in a potato sack, and it grew heavier as she caught her purchase on the edge of the fountain and hauled herself up over the edge in a sodden heap. It took Ciri a few beats to catch her breath and her bearings, enough to discover that when she reached back her sword was gone (sheath and all) and a pack, somewhat less sodden than the rest of her, had taken it’s place.
She had appeared many places before, but this was unequivocally her first fountain.
WHERE: The fountain
WHEN: November 29
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None yet
STATUS: Open!
The brutal gust of cold, and the Wild Hunt’s vessel suddenly lurked in the sea off the coast of the Isle of Mists where she and Geralt stood.
“Get us outta here.”
“They’ll know where we’ve gone. They’ll know how to find me.”
“They already do. Ciri, take us home.”
The world turned in a flare of aqua light as it always does in her travels, and in her dreams. She wasn’t dreaming this time though, Geralt was there, had found her, and they were finally going home; finally to face Eredin and his hoard head on and come what may.
Except the world wasn’t turning the way it always did, and Geralt wasn’t there (had he ever really been?).
Instead of the solid ground of the keep Ciri expected to find on the other side, she was abruptly submerged in water and rapidly floating upward. Something had gone very wrong; even if this wasn’t the first time she had portaled into (or above) water, she had never lost anyone in transit before.
In fact, as she kicked herself to the surface, it became apparent how much more she had actually lost. She felt as though she was swimming wrapped in a potato sack, and it grew heavier as she caught her purchase on the edge of the fountain and hauled herself up over the edge in a sodden heap. It took Ciri a few beats to catch her breath and her bearings, enough to discover that when she reached back her sword was gone (sheath and all) and a pack, somewhat less sodden than the rest of her, had taken it’s place.
She had appeared many places before, but this was unequivocally her first fountain.
no subject
It's another data point.
She looks at the woman as she undoes the backpack, and it's the same as her own. Set supplies.
"There are overalls here, a coat. Take off your wet things and here."
She tosses the backpack back, a gentle lobbing to try and make sure nothing spills out.
"We're all given the same things, I think. By the folks who captured us. And there's an Inn, where they keep a fire going and have rooms. But, get out of your wet things first."
no subject
Bracing herself for the shock of it, Ciri strips off the clinging wet of the dark blue scrub shirt and tosses it to the ground. She hisses a bit from the cold, and finds the coat, heavy enough, in the half-spilled pile of the clothes she's dragged out of the pack. "Captured?" she repeats with some alarm as she drapes the coat around her bare shoulders and pulls out the first set of trousers she finds.
Losing the scrub pants takes longer, forcing Ciri to kick off her boots. She tries not to be terribly put off how even her underwraps and knickers are different. What was happening? The long johns are snug but warm, and her shivers begin to subside somewhat as she stands there, forcing her feet back into the unfamiliar shoes.
"Do we know who these folk are?" That seemed a reasonable question, if anything could be considered reasonable just then. At least she was drying off.
no subject
"We don't. There aren't any good theories. At least, not I've heard, but I don't hang around the village much." There's amusement, there, but directed at herself.
It's not exactly from lack of invitation.
"People are, or, um. Claim to be from all over. Different... places."
no subject
She was putting the pieces together, a bit more easily now that some the feeling was returning to her extremities.
"You're not... from here then, I suppose?" she prodded Annie slightly for more information, not wanting to be rude, but she really still didn't understand how she had gotten here, and apparently she was not the only one.
Ciri was still slightly damp, but this was certainly an improvement. She couldn't stand still for long, already searching around the roots of the nearest tree for a piece of bark she could use to get the fire started. Until she sorted this out, could figure out what happened to Geralt or if he might be somewhere nearby, she really couldn't try to leave. Surely somewhere in this village there would be answers?
no subject
Oh.
Maybe Annie hasn't mentioned all she should have, if the woman's still trying to start a fire. At least (and for once), she hopes it is that. If the woman's so far gone with cold she's behaving oddly, Annie's not sure what she could really do currently.
"Look, um, there's an inn ahead. It's got a fire, and food, and they seem to welcome people. I can show you?"
no subject
"Is it terribly far away?" She bites her lip, and looks back to the fountain. "I'm a bit afraid to leave, you see, in case- my father, I was traveling with him and he should have- well he was right beside me."
Then again, one of the major points of awareness that was convincing Ciri this wasn't at all a dream was exactly how hungry she felt. Food sounded like exactly what she needed. She sighed. "I suppose I should know where it is. Maybe he's gone there too. Thank you, for your help."
no subject
Later.
Not now.
"If he follows," Annie says, slowly, "there'll be our tracks. He can follow 'em."
She doesn't point out that there is a lag in time that Ciri has forgotten. A time enough for their clothes to be taken and changed, to be dressed like this. To have other things done to them. Either the woman will work it out, or she won't.
"I'll show you. Cold people can get confused."
It doesn't snow in District Four - at least, not anywhere they are now allowed to go. But she knows hypothermia from water, and it has the same affect, she figures.
no subject
“Very well,” she finally agrees with a decisive nod, as the cold continues to bite at her. “Please, lead the way, Annie.”