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[gynvael]

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Geralt is always reachable by the network. Unless it's an emergency, expect not to hear back for a few hours, if not a few days.

To talk to him in person, you'll need to be in Cadens or go to his domain, a snowy mountain fortress. Yard is open; doors are locked. If he isn't around, leave a delivery with the white wolf.

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[wiedzminka]

I've told her.

[ It comes out more sharply than intended, exasperated. ]

When we first-- met. Here. [ What shouldn't have been a first meeting at all. ]

I'll explain further if that's what she wants. [ Her eyes search Geralt's as she says this, watching his reaction. He's been so distrustful of Yennefer lately, she can't help but be surprised that he's the one suggesting this.

He also doesn't seem nearly as wary of Istredd as Ciri had expected, or feels is warranted. ]

Geralt. He's already a threat. I just don't know how much he really understands.

[gynvael]

[ He doesn't mean that. He means the rest—what they've since concluded about her ability to affect the Singularity, after they fled Thorne. But if Ciri wishes to speak to Yennefer on her own, then that is her choice.

He finds himself more distracted by the question of Istredd than Yennefer. He understands why Ciri sees Istredd as an existing threat solely for what he knows. He does. But for Geralt, how Istredd came about that information is important. He stumbled on it. He didn't go looking deliberately. In the end, the man did help him. Geralt may not like him, but he can acknowledge that.

He sits on a chair so that they're eye level. ] I was sent to Istredd by Triss. He's a friend of hers. I don't wholly trust him, but we did begin as allies.

[ A friend of Yennefer's, too. Triss, though. Triss is—she's always been good to him, to Vesemir. To Ciri.

He studies Ciri for a moment. He knows how he would proceed where Istredd is concerned. But this is not about Istredd entirely. It's about Ciri. Making sure she feels safe; equally making sure she will not do something rash because she's afraid of what lies ahead.

When he asks, it is a genuine question. He wants to know what she needs, but also how she might decide to act if she were to give it some thought, without his input. She's not a child anymore. And he won't always be here to guide her. ]

What would you like to do?

[wiedzminka]

[ He isn't wrong; she'll need to talk to Yennefer, and they'll figure something out, but right now, Ciri just isn't in the mood to think about the best long-term approach. She's clearly agitated, and Geralt's invariable calm is starting to get on her nerves.

So he's a friend of Triss's and Yennefer's, and Geralt's supposed ally, and no one had thought to even mention the mage to her?

Ciri clicks her tongue in annoyance, throwing up her hands. ]

I don't know, Geralt.

I want to make sure he keeps his fucking mouth shut.

I am not planning on leaving here, and if he wants me to go back to the Continent because he thinks I'm some special fucking savior, I'd sooner cut his throat.

[gynvael]

[ Now is possibly not the best time to have this conversation, given. All that's going on. He can't tell how much is Ciri and how much her stems from what may be affecting her. ]

Ciri. [ He's firm, but. Invariable calm is right. Geralt is near impossible to not be calm, even when the situation should warrant otherwise. Often useful; occasionally a failing of his under certain circumstances. ] I will not let him do anything to you. But we cannot act on fear alone. Talk to Yennefer first. She'll have insight I do not. Then we'll speak further.

[ That's all he will do, for now, because despite his general distrust of Istredd and mages alike, despite the fact that he would consider Istredd tripping into his own death a viable solution of no loss, the man has done nothing wrong except open his fucking mouth too wide. He isn't happy about it, but he can't reasonably take Istredd's head for it.

Yet. Time may tell. It depends, frankly, on who else Istredd has spoken to. Something only Yennefer will be able to determine. ]

[wiedzminka]

Fine. I'll talk to her.

[ Not like she can do much else, anyway. Not from all the way over here. Istredd is rather lucky he wasn't summoned by the Free Cities, within reach of Ciri's real life blade. If he'd thought she was difficult to deal with in the Horizon, he hasn't seen the half of it. ]

And I'm not afraid of him.

[gynvael]

[ They're all lucky, in truth. Geralt's concern is not about Istredd. The man can lie in the grave he dug for all he gives a shit. It's about the consequences of hasty action, of choices that haunt you for decades whether they are right or wrong or somewhere in between. A lesson he's learned tenfold. He supposes that isn't something he can always protect Ciri from.

He still wants to try. He sure as fuck doesn't want Ciri to be the first to discover what happens when one of the Summoned is killed by another from an opposing territory.

If it comes down to it, he'll bear that burden. Not her. ]

I know you're not. [ It is not the man she fears. It's what he may do. The layers of unknowns that Istredd represents. Geralt doesn't say it; she knows, he thinks, and he isn't trying to make her feel worse by laying her innermost thoughts bare, true or not. ] I promise what needs to be done, we'll face it together. But protecting our home, our place, in this world—it also means making sure we don't invite the sword of the nations directly upon us. At least not without some sleep and a bit of time chopping up the risen dead first. Hm?

[ Talk, as he well knows, can only resolve so much boiled over tension. Sometimes one simply needs to take off a few limbs, and there are plenty of undead crawling about. She can even imagine Istredd's head on them if it helps. ]

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri narrows her eyes at him, and clicks her tongue loudly. Impatient and annoyed. ]

You think I don't know that? I'm not stupid.

Do not talk to me like I'm a child, Geralt.

[ She snaps, and moves to walk past him. If she bumps his shoulder on the way out, it's entirely on passive-aggressive purpose.

Yes, she will be imagining Istredd's head on some of those undead that need to be chopped into tiny little bits until they stop moving. No, she isn't throwing a tantrum. Why would anyone think that? ]

Don't wait up.