{ pfsb } a letter and a meeting

[jaskoleczka]

Time is passing strangely for Ciri; it's difficult to tell if she has slept entire days or only a few hours. There is no way to mark the days aside from weather, and that changes quickly enough that it is wholly unreliable.

(The Bar, in her infinite kindness and usual sympathetic meddling, has in fact created a mild time loop in Ciri's room, giving her time to recover and somewhat ignoring the distressed flurry which has emanated out in ripples from her arrival.)

She comes downstairs, therefore, determined to more fully explore this strange place. There are stables she wishes to visit, and the woods remind her very slightly of those around Kaer Morhen...but her plans are abruptly canceled when, along with the strong hot tea she'd ordered, Lady Bar provides her also with a note.

Anyone watching would see Ciri rub at her forehead as if to quell a sudden headache, then lay a hand on the bartop and request something in a soft voice. Quill and pen appear, and she bends her head to write briskly and neatly:

Reverend Daughter,

I am terribly sorry for the distress I have caused. Please know it was not intentional.
I welcome your request for a meeting. I am at your disposal and shall visit Room 99 within the hour.

- Ciri

Folding the note, she looks for a waitrat to charge with its delivery and watches as the messenger scampers up the stairs before she turns with a sigh back to her tea.

Which she is now wishing was something a good deal stronger.

---

It's about half an hour later that she stands at the door of Room 99 with no idea of what to expect, knocking lightly with gloved knuckles.

Comments

[lightamidchaos]

"Sometimes."

He considers that, then amends,

"Most of the time. It is common for something to at least be offered. Such gifts, or rewards, or payments, are not always accepted, depending. I suppose it may be like the contracts you mentioned?"

He looks the question at her.

[jaskoleczka]

"Witchers are not so selfless," she smiles. "Having no other way to make their way in the world, they depend on payment for services rendered. There are times when whole villages must pass around a hat to collect enough for a witcher's fee.

"I imagine it sounds mercenary, but witchers are shunned by society; hated and feared wherever they go. There are very few options left to them if they wish to live another day without starving."

[lightamidchaos]

He nods.

"Rogue cultivators - those not affiliated with a sect, who may choose to live more freely - often do the same."

"Why are witchers hated and feared?"

[jaskoleczka]

"They're monsters," she says, simply. "At least, that is how they are viewed. People say the mutagens that give the witchers their strength and speed and abilities remove all ability to feel human emotions. They have yellow eyes like a cat, their fees are too dear. People still fear a witcher might steal their children, even though, as I said, they have lost the ability to create new witchers."

She shrugs, slightly. "Is there no myth surrounding the cultivators of your world? Are the people you help always grateful for it?"

[lightamidchaos]

"I am sorry. People do not always accept anything that is different. Or new."

A momentary darkness flickers in his glance.

The Yiling Laozu is dead! Isn't it great?

"Usually. For... traditional cultivation, at least."

[jaskoleczka]

"Not to worry," she says. "To be perfectly honest, even the witchers who raised me at Kaer Morhen, well..."

The thought makes her laugh. "They're a bit rough around the edges. They can take a little getting used to."

Her beer is gone; she pushes the mug aside and crosses both arms on the bartop to lean on them, looking at Lan Wangji with undisguised curiosity. "Traditional? Is that how the sects distinguish themselves? Some use traditional methods and others are more unorthodox?"

[lightamidchaos]

He shakes his head, at that.

"No. Different sects may specialize in different practices, as Gusu Lan does with musical cultivation, but they are generally all traditional."

He takes a careful breath.

"More unorthodox methods... are not approved of. Even when they may be useful, or effective. There are reasons, but they are not -- all well thought out."

[jaskoleczka]

"I see."

This seems an uncomfortable topic for him, and she's sympathetic.

"As you say, people often fear and dislike that which they don't understand."

[lightamidchaos]

"Yes," he says, very simply.

[jaskoleczka]

For a while she only nods and sits in companionable silence, ordering another mug of tea of her own to keep his company.

"I've never seen anything like your musical cultivation, or what you manage with Bichen," she says, at last. "Are all the sects as creative with their methods?"

[lightamidchaos]

"Not all practice musical cultivation," he says, "but cultivating with the sword is usual. Although Qinghe Nie has taken another step, and cultivates with a more warlike, battle-focused blade."

He glances at her.

"I would be happy to spar, some time. If you want."

[jaskoleczka]

"Now that would be a challenge indeed," she says, smiling. "I accept. But in the meantime..."

She glances again at the note, and sighs slightly, pushing away her tea with reluctance. "I must go speak with the Reverend Daughter."

[lightamidchaos]

He nods.

"Do you want me to accompany you?"

[jaskoleczka]

Her smile presses a bare curve into the corners of her mouth. "You're very kind, but no."

Rising, she unbuckles Zireael from around her chest and holds the scabbard loosely in one hand. "I shall make my pilgrimage alone, as befits a penitent." Now her smile grows stronger and a bit rakish; she winks at him.

"If things go badly, remember me well."

[lightamidchaos]

"I will see you later," he says instead, exuding quiet confidence.

Lan Wangji stands up and offers her a proper bow.

"Be well, Ciri."