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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.
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.
end of June, when Ciri/Viktor's empty horses return home
Ciri's horse is here, and she's --
She won't answer --
Where are you? Have you heard from her?
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What is the state of her horse?
When did you last contact her?
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And there he finally is.
Which means Geralt has not heard from her, either.]
She's alive. I don't see injuries on her, but Ciri's sword isn't on her, either. There's a second horse here too. With no rider. I... I don't know, perhaps a week ago? She was busy. Hold on.
[To be honest, Geralt's relative calm has always annoyed him, but it's also pulled him back to think of something else. He returns to the horses, looking them over, his hand running over their flanks, their noses.] They look cared for, however. Recently. Perhaps a day ago they last ate.
[He blinks, removing from the second horse what can only be a cane. And in his time sweeping through the Free Cities, he has only seen one man use this specific aid.] I think Viktor was with her? This looks like his cane. Why the fuck would he be with her on a hunt?
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But then why the fuck isn't Ciri answering? ]
She wasn't hunting.
[ He knows Ciri. She would never allow Viktor to come on a hunt. Or anyone, for that matter, unless they truly proved their capability. More likely, the close proximity and her being with Viktor suggests she was merely accompanying him for a ride. As far as he's aware, the two have a budding friendship after Viktor gifted her the...bladed machine.
No injuries, no blood. Jaskier will have to put up with another extended silence. The more concerned Geralt is, the longer he takes to gather his thoughts before answering. Because the matter here is twofold: that he does not know what may have happened to Ciri and that he needs Jaskier to stay calm about it.
Fuck. His instinct is to rush home. But that will help no one. He's three, four days out. They don't know where Ciri is, if returning to the city might actually take him further away from her trail.
In the end, he winds up telling Sam they can't press onward for the time being. That he might have to turn back to Cadens. ]
Wait three hours.
If you still can't reach her, tell me.
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[It's for the best neither of them have come home now, because Jaskier's rather sure he would have tried to choke them. Why can they not be the least bit helpful in any situation where they are the ones possibly in danger? How the fuck have they kept themselves alive so long? (He knows how, but he's getting progressively more angry mixed with the panic. If Ciri's hurt somewhere --
Three hours? Three hours?!
He takes a deep breath. He knows Geralt. Knows Ciri significantly less, but she is so much like him Jaskier likes to think it's well, too. He rubs his hand over Nixie, double-checking that she isn't spooked. Not terribly so. Whatever had made the horses run could be quite a distance behind them. But they're definitely tired, and this means hauling some water and feed in here. Something to do. Keep his hands busy. (Unfortunately, far too little to keep his mind similarly occupied.)
So when Jaskier answers back, his writing is at least a bit calmer.]
Three hours. Fine. Don't see what a bloody difference three hours makes, but fine.
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He sighs. Tries to think about what he knows rather than what he doesn't know. He needs more information, and more information means time. It's always the thing: knowing that there may not be time, but that hasty actions in blindness will only worsen the situation. ]
Sam is sending Red to scout.
[ And then: ]
I'll take care of it. I promise.
Is Dean in town?
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Take care of it? How? I think you capable of many a thing, Geralt, but you cannot just say something is taken care of and be done with it. I'm not going to sit around and wait. She's my family too.
[In case he needed to be reminded. Which Jaskier is sure he doesn't, but this is him when he's wound tight, stressed. Snappy. Low patience. And unable to sit around. He can get a horse of his own, or borrow Nixie... or, perhaps a better idea, Viktor's horse, before he returns it. He can pay whatever fee shall come up.
A pause before he continues.] Dean? Why? Can that man even ride a horse?
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He understands. He does. But Geralt is someone who clamps fiercely down on any inkling of fear and panic. He can't afford it. And he can't afford to have Jaskier doing the same, even if he gets the inclination.
There is a reason, though, he asked if Dean was available. ]
Because if you absolutely must ride out in the dark, then take him with you.
Or Alucard.
Say you understand.
[ He trusts both. Doesn't care who. He just won't have Jaskier riding off recklessly on his own. He can't fucking worry about both of them. ]
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[There is no heat in it. Jaskier knows well he is not a warrior, and never will be. But he is a formidable magician, if he need be, and self-sufficient, and more obstinate, he thinks, than a Witcher sometimes.
Besides, Alucard is already in the desert, looking for a crypt. And honestly, he doesn't know Dean well enough to find him quick enough to satisfy this raw, ragged energy in his heart.
He's already grabbing saddle and tack, but as Geralt's final message disappears, he gives a sharp sigh into the air. His knuckles turn white with their grip on the saddle.]
I'm going past the gates. I know that land well. If I go further, you'll know.
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He truly hasn't got fucking time for this. Jaskier is not the only one with frayed nerves; perhaps his are more so than he wants to admit.
If Geralt were alone, Jaskier might have received a different answer. But Sam is here and whether or not Sam says anything or if they even talk about this, somehow merely having Sam present is enough. A reminder, perhaps, of. Perspective. It pulls Geralt out of his own stubbornness—one that always rears its head especially where keeping those he cares about safe is concerned.
In the end, he knows he can trust Jaskier will not give up until Ciri is found. ]
If anything happens to you
I'm taking Moglad
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You'd better be nicer to him than you are to me. And feed Mog, even if he loves me more.
[He certainly has changed, if he can joke about the will left behind after his doom. But the land just beyond Cadens's gates is safe enough, and he has his birds, the land ready to come at his call. Though his hands are shaking on the reins as he moves through Cadens, the horse nickering under the pull of the reins, it doesn't stop him from going.
It's hours until his next message, as he and the horse go deeper into the sands. Two mockingbirds fly ahead and behind him, calling to the air gently, almost like spies. To ensure he is not attacked in surprise. It isn't enough to still any fear in his heart. It needn't be.
And suddenly: a message scrawls on the back of the horse's neck, and it isn't Geralt's writing.
Fucking Witchers. As if it was a silly thing to worry over them. To fear for them. As if their likeliness to be hurt makes it some sort of pointless pursuit.]
Ciri. She's awake. Messaged me. She's fine, she's fine. I think... something happened, and she did something to leave the horses behind.
[Geralt's suspicions with this mode of communication have latched onto him, apparently, because he does not mention that he thinks she may have meant her strange, blinking power. The one he thinks only the two -- perhaps Yen, too? -- know of.] I believe her. Said she's a week out, with Viktor. They're coming back from Aquila.
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So he waits. He hunts for their dinner, builds another shelter for them inside a cave this time that he makes sure, for Sam's sake, is cleared of rats and snakes and other things that a Witcher never needs to concern himself of but a human would. Meditates.
When he opens his eyes, a message is scrawled along the dirt.
Fuck. He breathes out for the first time in hours. Weeks, it feels.
Something. Geralt asks no further. ]
I'll speak to her when she's settled.
[ As long as she's unharmed, the rest can wait. He doesn't want to disrupt what she might be doing to find her way back. Especially if she has a companion she's protecting. ]
Thank you.
[ He doesn't mean only for telling him the news. ]
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[It's not his first time being a middleman, but this time it is, at least, relieving. She's safe. She's coming home. It's not often Jaskier worries about Ciri, but a riderless horse --
He hopes this never happens again. Twice is too many times for one bard.]
Just come back in one piece, hmm? And tell Sam he can call Red back home.
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Look after her.
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