“Thank you, Lady Philippa,” Ciri said after a few moments, squeezing the head of the sphinxes in her hands. “I also feel honored with the proposal to take the surname de Tansarville. However, it seems to me that my new last name is the only thing that I can choose for myself, I thank the two mistresses. But I want to be called Cirilla of Vengerberg, daughter of Yennefer.”
- Andrjez Sapkowski, Lady of the Lake
“is the monster still around?” yūma questioned the lady in front of him without any hint of caution in his body language, peeking around the nearby tree to scan the surroundings for that wiggling beast. while he could easily defeat one using his black trigger, he would not want to attract attention to him, especially not when his unit is scattered throughout this forest. it would be a disaster.
the gaping hole on his face then started healing just as his stomach made a growling sound and a sheepish laughter bubbled up from his throat, his lips stretching into a wide grin. “do you have any food you can spare for me?”
@xintrea
“You can come out now, it’s safe. The beast is slayed.”
The light shling--! of her blade broke the blanket of silence as it was sheathed, whatever remnants of blood and ghoulish ichor earlier smeared against the creature’s body. She heaved the lightest of breaths -- ghouls were awful creatures, yes, but it was the stench they discharged that was irrevocably the bane of her entire existence. With a light grimace, Ciri raised an eyebrow, hands ‘pon her hips whilst verdigris eyes stared.
“I haven’t got much on me to sate that monstrous rumble of yours, but I’m sure Geralt has some boar rations left -- or maybe a sandwich? Hm.” From the depths of her rucksack she proffered a slice of bred -- the only thing she had on her person. “Nasty wounds. They seem to heal very quickly -- not human, I’d wager? But come along, ghouls gather in groups. Let us not tarry, unless you’ve someplace to be?”
“BONA DEA, I’m getting rather old to keep up with such ‘fun’. Well, Remanon legionnaires are famed for marching. And for Fanalis? Our legs. I’m best suited to keep my feet firmly planted on Gaia’s great earth. I could carry you — shan’t be as impressive as your teleportation, I admit. Magic does dazzle.”
“Is that so? That’s impressive! You’ve the stamina that rivals that of a Witcher. Between you and I, teleportation is ... well, it’s an acquired taste. Especially if you spend all your life using it to run from people who want you dead, ha ha ha...” A nervous titter. “I shan’t tarry us any longer, however. Lead the way, great Fanalis! I’d rather hurry home before the sun sets. The creatures here are not ... they aren’t friendly. And they’re ugly. Very ugly witches.”
‘ yeah, you know, i don’t see how that’s going to help the situation right now. ’
“It’s either you get utterly mauled by the wraith, or we make the proper preparations so that it won’t come back to haunt us. A little preparation goes a long way -- lest your laziness be the death of you.”
❤️ this post for a starter of varying length if we’ve yet to interact. will tend to the rest of my drafts in the meanwhile.
commissioned a little something from @notelitin and my babies are so cute. here they are ... clothes!swapped. aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!! ー( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ
(✿ ♥‿♥)
@xintrea ♥’d
“FORGIVE ME for ever doubting you, my lady. I’ve never had such an intimate experience with magic and I feel quite… light. I think I’d like to walk from here on out.”
“Just a little bit of fun, see? It takes a while to get used to -- I know I had my fair share of experiences as a first-timer ... I wouldn’t mind though -- you look a bit pale. Are you sure you’re well enough to walk? We’re actually, uh, a bit far from home.”
takes samples of ur hair clearly for innocent, not-science related purposes
well ... at least you’re not going after my blood--? as long as it’s not some weird voodoo with bad juju i’d liken you to the crones but the crones aren’t as pretty as you are. -- Is that a doll? HEY!!
“yes. don’t have hearts so, we have holes. ” starrk leaned his head slightly forward and let her sate curiosity. he cares little, dignity be damned. there was nothing. an utter void where the two ought to feel something, the warmth of her living flesh, the movement of air from being ‘ poked ’. “ i don’t know why it’s in my eye instead of my chest, but … you know.”
“Really now?” A depthless abyss ... can I possibly -- ? She risked making a remarkably tremendous fool of herself if she’d gone through with finishing the thought. And as intrigued as she might’ve been, perhaps teleporting through someone’s eyeless-hole was not the brightest idea, no matter what inklings of childish glee surfaced and kindled with the beginnings of never-ending curiousity. She was no longer a ten year old child lost in the forests of Brokilon, where ancient trees were once a thing of wonder. Instead, she merely offered a single finger and thrusts. She half expected something solid to stop her impeding finger, but her finger slid through, through, all the way through ... the hairs on her neck stood. Bad idea. “You aren’t human. Don’t feel warm either. Can’t be a spectre because you’re solid. Too pretty to be a ghoul, too. Most living things need a heart to live -- so dead?” Her finger wiggles once or twice before she removed it completely. “Maybe you do have a heart, just one that doesn’t beat?”
“I meant to say that there’s a wild boar eyeing you down -- your reds are very eye-catching. You might want to head the other way -- !”
child!ciri in the books gives me so much life like have you seen this precious roll of complete and utter sass stomping her foot and kicking shins and literally demanding piggy back rides because she’s my daughter and i love her and damn she will princess you up faster than you can say ‘unicorn’
“Colour me impressed. How do you kill spectres?” Ciri mused aloud. Curiousity claimed her wholly and thus, she smiled. He was no witcher -- he hadn’t the signature eyes they all carried ( but ah -- neither did she, eh? her medallion was her symbol ). She knew little of the ways of hunting of those outside those of her ilk -- but it never did hurt to learn something new everyday.
@noblehell
“Wait -- wait! Shooting at it won’t kill it!” ( But what exactly was she using? )
And no matter what the allure, what the intrigue which claimed her so ( not a bow, not an arrow! a mini-catapult...? ), the treacherous creature, so twisted and vile cared little for childhood fancies. Whatever contraption the stranger held did nothing but pierce air -- the noonwraith shrieked its disgustingly shrill cry before diving towards them both, and Ciri careened dangerously to the left the avoid the swipe from this blasted corporal being whilst simultaneously pushing the other aside. It was high noon, where the noonwraith was at its apex. “We need to find what’s keeping it here -- it won’t die.”
@trapwidow
“I’ve walked through blizzards, dastardly swamps, and plundering seas -- but this?” Her disdain was picture-perfect clear with the frustrated huff of a breath and the decisive wipe of her brow. Sand, sand, and more sand everywhere she turned ... She was completely and utterly lost once again but now in a venue where the sun shone like a never-ending bloody beacon. Wonky teleportation, how fun! A thought she held in contempt. She had enough practice, surely -- little ventures like this shouldn’t have shot her way off her course; this was the complete opposite of Skellige. She gathered as much energy as required to make one more teleport -- a proper one ( hopefully ) this time.
Instead, she was falling. Falling, falling fast -- she fell and fell until “Oomph!” something had wonderfully stopped her fall. But this was not the solace she’d hoped for, she groaned wistfully. It was still ridiculously hot but at least the sun was no longer glaring angrily at her. But oh -- oh. Oh no. This was a first. She’d landed not on something but rather someONE. “Sorry--” she immediately began, willing her panic ( though the embarrassment seemed more apparent ) away. Ciri wasn’t that heavy -- or ... so she’d like to think. Ha, ha, time to slowly quickly move away? The beginnings of a scowl were instantly detected and she sheepishly laughed, all the meanwhile saying, “Hello -- I’m a gift from the skies?”
@girugamesshu
“I’m fine. Just a scratch, nothing major.”
But words, oh yes, words! were merely words when they offered naught but the inklings of fallacy -- veracity seeming utterly obsolete for a moment of pride. Red, red, traitorous red blossoms and stains, you terrible traitor she hissed in contempt at the never-ending wound that seemed to shout: Hey! I exist! But she didn’t want it to exist, oh no. Ciri in fact did not want it to be anything but nothing. She waved a hand, an undeniably poor way to assert the credence of her words when her own body betrayed her. Down she went, tumbling onto her knees and she cursed the contemptible wretch of a wild boar she had thought would be an easy catch. But ah-hah! The hubris of man ( or rather, that of a single woman whose pride reared its ugly head for the exact moment she wanted to wrestle a mighty hog ... ). This was humiliating.
“... really fine. I promise.”
Geralt would surely laugh at her folly.
@grishildr
“--Now. If you really want to kill a werewolf, that scythe won’t do.” And indeed, indeed! Many were none the wiser, for it was only she who spoke with certitude -- the spirited lilt of her voice offering a piece of advice that she knew all too well. ...Perhaps a bit too well.
“You’d need to coat the blade with a special oil.” A pause. “And really good aim.”
@psythe
