sixthiterationlogs | Blown in on an icy wind

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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.

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It's the first time Annie has seen anyone emerge from the fountain. Not surprising, really, given that she and Finnick have mostly been living in the woods since arriving here. But it means she doesn't know what to do.

It means that she freezes when the white-haired woman pulls herself out of the water, it means she freezes as the woman collapses in a heap. It means that, when the woman grasps behind her for something, Annie just stares. Wide-eyed. Silent.

Finnick's within ear-shot, she could yell. Should yell. Back away.

But the woman's soaked.

So the small, red-haired woman, dressed in dirty white under a black coat, just hovers. Silently. Waiting to see what the newcomer will do.

The shivers are starting to set in. Ciri is used to cold, especially since it's always just at her heels, but soaking wet in loose clothing and biting air is a bit much even for her. Worrying about where she was and what happened to Geralt would have to wait, and for the moment, there was no obvious sign the Hunt had followed ~~them~~ her.

Trembling somewhat visibly she wriggled the pack from her back and sharp emerald eyes darted in all directions, honestly not trusting anything and praying it wasn't a trap... or another nightmare. The shivers grew worse as Ciri stumbled to her feet, fumbling now with the drawstring on the pack. She needed to get indoors, or she needed a fire, and quickly. There appeared to be plenty of trees in this park. Change of plans.

Ciri momentarily abandoned the pack with the odd flame mark beside the fountain and headed toward the base of the nearest tree, snatching up every fallen stick and twig in reach. The slight figure must have been in her blind spot at the fountain, because now knelt beneath the tree with a small handful of sticks, Ciri wasn't sure how she'd missed her. Immediately something about the gaze staring back at her struck Ciri as very raw.

"Hello?" she tried, unable to keep her voice entirely steady, and hoped that wherever she was it wasn't a place where 'hello' meant 'prepare to die'. Ciri had a lot of questions, but as of now, other than the way her fingers were tingling and going numb, her concern for the woman overruled anything else, including her search for kindling. "Are you alright?" Then, because she looked it, "Are you lost?" That would make two of us.

She hesitates, a fact only shown by the way her poise shifts, wavers. There's the faintest sense of her shifting her weight. And then she sighs, as if annoyed with herself, and shoves her hands into her coat pockets.

"There's, um. There's warm clothes in the pack. They'll help? And-

Oh."

Annie smiles, a quirk of an expression that flitters across her face. It's an entertaining thought, even if she's aware that she's speaking too fast and appearing too odd. But nothing to be done, the train can't really stop just right now. "No, not lost. We're in the fountain park in the village in the enclosed canyon. It's like an arena? If that's... Familiar to you.

But there really is a coat in the pack."

There are reasons why Annie Cresta had been booted from the Career Academy, and the main one is this: she doesn't like to see people hurt in front of her.

Edited 2016-11-30 12:04 (UTC)

Ciri frowned watching her hesitate, still not entirely sure she was managing to communicate in the first place until the woman answered. The pack. Ciri had not fully trusted the new item but the advice was enough to spur her back to where she left it, dropping the meager bundle of sticks she gathered beside.

"My fingers have gone a bit numb, I'm afraid," Ciri explained, voice continuing to quake with the shivers of cold that were pricking through her with growing intensity. It wouldn't be nearly so bad if not for the damned wet of it all.

"Could you help me get it open? I was going to make a fire..."

She managed at least to crouch down and yank somewhat fruitlessly at the tangled drawstrings. Her fingers burned to try as though the White Frost were freezing them solid. What arena? she wondered, but decided there were more pressing questions. "Does this village... have a name? What year is it?" Ciri was aware her last question always made her sound mad, but it was a necessary evil sometimes.

Edited 2016-11-30 17:27 (UTC)

Peggy's quick to hurry to the woman as soon as she leaves the inn, striding towards her with a blanket in hand. Lucky, then, that she'd been having lunch and had seen the glance of something just out of the corner of her eye. Unlucky, really, that the temperature continues to bode so poorly for those who have been arriving in such terrible weather. "Here," Peggy offers calmly as she hands the blanket out to her. "I think you're going to need this, lest you like the chilly air." And if she does, then to each their own, but she can't imagine it's remotely healthy.

Dripping rather everywhere, Ciri didn't hesitate to surround herself in the blanket being presented to her as quickly as possible, draping it over her head and shoulders for maximum coverage and heat retention. "Thank you very much," Ciri offered in return as at least some of the chill was buffered. It was hard for the confusion not to make itself heard in her tone.

She wanted to get back, as soon as possible, not sure what had happened to Geralt, and expecting still that the Wild Hunt could arrive here at any second. However, there were some more pressing priorities first. "I... had a sword with me. It may have fallen into the fountain." Not that that explained at all where the bag came from, or the baggy clothes, but sword first, everything else after.

Her eyebrows pull together, the thought, but fire highlights your location going through her head. It sounds like her teachers at the Academy: it sounds like Finnick, here.

Her teachers had been right, but frankly, Finnick can go now fuck himself, because it's cold.

So Annie shrugs, nods.

"All right. Kick the bag over."

The woman's cold, yes, sure, of course she is. But she's also just come from the fountain and who knows what she came from. What her mind is saying is a right and logical course of action.

"And, um. Village's not got a name that anyone here knows, and the year's kinda a subject of debate? It's. It's complicated."

Edited 2016-12-02 04:42 (UTC)

Peggy's wondering whether this winter is going to get worse, because on the off chance that it does, they're going to be in quite a lot of trouble when people come out of the fountain with some very severe, very nasty cases of hypothermia. She looks at the woman cautiously, offering her a sympathetic look. "We should talk inside," she says calmly, thinking that the news that her sword is gone is best done in the warmth of a place that can offer food.

The feast has left just enough that there might even be some alcohol to help dull the arrival pain.

Complicated. Well, Ciri understood complicated. A debatable year and a village with no name was a mystery but not the strangest thing she had ever encountered by a long shot. She gives Annie a searching look before giving the bag a pushing kick in her direction. It is then she notices why her feet feel so much heavier, her boots are different, thick soles and no heels. So strange.

"I'm sorry, my name is Ciri," she says after a moment, managing a faint smile through the cold and going again for the bits of kindling in an attempt to form them into some semblance of a pile several feet from the fountain. She wishes not for the first time in her life she hadn't given up completely on sorcery. A well placed Igni spell would have worked wonders just now, but the steps to make a fire never changed. She just had to get her hands working. Warm clothes would certainly help. "What's your name?"

Inside sounded just wonderful to Ciri right at that moment. However she was worried, worried for herself, this new blanket-providing woman, and whoever else might be nearby. She hoped desperately that she had the time to spare, but she really never knew. Something big was going on here though, and it sounded like the woman might have some answers.

"Alright," she agrees cautiously, pulling the blanket tighter around herself, some part of her saying a silent prayer that wherever 'inside' is it doesn't involve a trap. "You lead. Where are we going?"

"I'm Annie." Annie Cresta, Victor of the 70th Hunger Games. Not that anyone here reacts as if they know her at all. Certainly, not one reacts as if they'd seen her mental breakdown in her arena, on her victory tour.

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."

Edited 2016-12-02 06:07 (UTC)

She's not sure what overalls are, but Ciri catches the bag easily and starts to dig through it. "Thank you," she says gratefully.

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.

Annie doesn't leer, doesn't stare. She watches Ciri carefully, yes, but she's also still, habitually, scanning their surroundings, too. Not attraction in her dark, sea-green eyes, but wariness and threat-assessment.

"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."

"There's an inn not too far from here, it's where I was." In fact, she thinks there might still be a bit of stew waiting for her. "I can promise it's much warmer, given the fire that's been going regularly." She can only imagine how warm that would make someone feel if they've got icy water that's just been doused over them.

"I'm Peggy," she introduces herself, her careful eyes on the woman. "Tell me if you start feeling even colder."

The more she learned the more questions she had, but it didn't seem there were many answers to be had in return. Ciri located the shirt that was the same soft warm material as the 'pants' she had on, losing the coat only long enough to pull it over her head. She gave up on the buttons after a moment, her fingers were still too cold.

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?

Thor checked the fountain occasionally, mostly to see whether or not Annie had decided to crawl back into it in a vain attempt to find the bottom of it and today, it was not Annie who came back out of it.

It was a different woman, although still blonde, and he drew up close to be able to offer his assistance in helping her out of it.

"We have to get you out of the chill," he said, motioning her close. "Come, please?"

"A fire sounds lovely," Ciri admitted with a slight sigh, trying to shake off at least some of her anxiety. The woman, Peggy, seemed calm enough she could nearly forget the strangeness of the whole affair. Not quite, however.

"I think I'll be fine, once we get indoors." Ciri tried to take in as much of her surroundings as she could of the park and the eerily innocent looking fountain from which she had emerged. "I'm Ciri. Sorry to trouble you like this... I'll admit I am a little lost."

Ciri was indeed quite cold, but she still hesitated at the man who appeared to help her from the fountain. She felt as though she should protest, but he looked very determined, and the edge of the fountain was fairly slippery.

Still, it couldn't hurt to be cautious. "How do I know you're not out to harm me?" The longer she stood out of the water and in the biting breeze however, Ciri found herself shivering. Maybe now wasn't the time to argue.

"You don't," Thor said. It was a valid concern, really, and he could understand someone being wary. He had been greeted at this fountain by others a few months ago but had been in possession of strength and height advantage over them all; this woman had neither.

"But I assure you, I'm not going to hurt you. If you don't want to trust me, will you at least take directions? There is a place you can get warm and find something to eat. It would be a lot better than staying here."

Her concern would be somewhat less if she knew what had happened to her sword. The loss of it was causing her serious pause, even if the idea of a meal and a place to dry off was incredibly tempting.

"I don't suppose you noticed a sword fall down in did you?" Ciri peered hesitantly back into the water. "Or... saw a tall older man with white hair pass by?"

She was starting to shiver harder, and her shoulders slumped slightly in resignation. "Oh alright, where is this place, then?"

"This place has no name that I know of. We have just been referring to it as a village. As far as weapons, it seems that however we're brought here - our weapons don't come along with us."

Thor wanted, dearly, to have Mjolnir by his side so he had some measure of protection in case this place did have some sort of sinister bent; his wish had not yet been granted in spite of his own fervent thoughts.

"Come, I'll take you to the Inn?"

No weapons. That was a concerning thought. Ciri could probably turn anything into a weapon if need be, but nevertheless, she felt naked without her sword.

"How many of...us, are there?" she found herself asking, finally moving closer to follow him. An inn was at least familiar, and Ciri wouldn't exactly turn down a warm bed.

He was actually...a bit charming, Ciri found, as the broad-shouldered man urged her forward. She definitely wasn't blushing. It was just the cold. "Very well. I could use a strong drink."

Luckily, the inn isn't too far away. She wonders if that's by design, as well, the inn being so close to the fountain. It had certainly come in handy the first day that she'd arrived, though she still wonders at how the wind could have pushed them all so easily towards it, like it had wanted to be found.

"Don't worry, we're all lost," she says, not meaning to sound so dire, though it comes out that way. "Unfortunately, no one I've met yet has the map to become found."

For once, it was nice not to be the only lost one. Always new places, new people to meet and to leave, and never really knowing where she would end up next. Never like this though, with the eerie confusion leftover from whatever spit her out of that fountain, nothing familiar at hand.

Peggy's words strike her enough to draw out a wry smile. "At least you know where to go," she points out over the squishing of her boots as they walked. "Have you been here very long?"

"Two dozen, perhaps? Possibly more. There aren't many in the village but enough for it to be of concern."

If it were only he and his friends, for example, Thor would feel more confident it had something to do with Loki or another mutual enemy. But the fact that this place seemed to pull people from various places, places outside the Nine Realms? That made it much less likely that someone like Loki could be involved.

"I don't know how we were all chosen, what we have in common."

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