{ 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]

He frowns at the change in her expression, then glances down at her note.

"Ah."

The look in his eyes is a little rueful when he turns his attention back to her.

"You spoke of death related to her. In your prophecy. I -- she needed to know, if she is to prevent it."

[jaskoleczka]

"It's alright," she assures him, taking the note back again and pocketing it. "I would rather she know than not. Lan Wangji – what did I say? You looked..."

She searches for the right words, lands on: "Upset."

[lightamidchaos]

"Yes. I would have."

He takes the seat beside her, finally, and makes a polite request for white tea of Bar-guniang. He turns the cup around in his fingers when it appears, thinking.

"A second death, for Harrow. Weeping and grief -- 'dry your golden eyes, dear child,' you said, and 'she is gone, you have buried her,' among other things."

"For me--"

Tension threads through him. He cannot help it, even though he is far, far less panicked than he had been that day.

"-- to begin, you said that I would lose Wei Ying. He is the one I mentioned, before."

[jaskoleczka]

She sighs, and places a palm on the Bar. "I am sorry," she says, softly. "I hope he is well."

[lightamidchaos]

“He is,” Lan Wangji says.

“And I intend to see to it that he remains so.”

[jaskoleczka]

"Lan Wangji," she says, gently.

"Please, tell me. What did I say to you? What futures did I see?"

[lightamidchaos]

It is the second time she has asked. How must it feel, to know you have spoken prophecy that turns others' lives upside down, yet not be able to recall it?

He nods, and takes a moment to center himself, as though preparing to meditate. His breathing deepens and his eyes close as he casts his thoughts back, striving to recall as accurately as he can.

"Lan Zhan," he murmurs, hearing Ciri's altered voice echo in his mind. "This is not real. You lost him. You found him. You will lose him again. And when you do, the Shadow will fall upon the Twin Jades of Lan. Wei Ying is not yours to keep."

His voice shakes, very slightly. Hearing it, he makes himself draw another breath, slow and deliberate, as tension steals through him, then keeps going.

"He has fallen into mist and shadow, and his soul will heed the call. His brother comes with the scourge, with lightning, with darkness. This waystation is not your home. Look to your world, Lan Zhan."

He opens his eyes and looks at her. Harrow's part of the prophecy still remains to be told, but first--

"I am Lan Zhan," he explains. "It is my personal name. I had not even told you of it. The Twin Jades of Lan are myself and my older brother, Lan Xichen."

His fingers tighten on the teacup. He makes himself loosen his grip.

"Wei Ying-- he did. Fall. Before. From a cliff. It is how he died, and arrived here. I cannot lose him again. I will not."

[jaskoleczka]

You will, she thinks sadly. She herself has never found someone but lost them again too soon after. She thinks of that day; the farmyard, the witcher who ran to meet her, her small arms around his neck, her soft cheek against his grizzled one.

We'll be together now, won't we? Say it, Geralt! Forever! Say it!

Forever, Ciri.

"I hope you are right," is all she says, gently.

[lightamidchaos]

He nods, determination in every line of him, and makes himself take a sip of tea.

"Of Harrow," he says, next. "You said that the Shadow followed more than just me, and called her name, Harrowhark. You said it was 'the second death,' and that --"

The faintest line appears between his brows as he concentrates on recalling the words.

"'You will build your church on this rock and your eyes will run dry as the desert for your weeping. She is gone. You have buried her. Dry your golden eyes, dear child, blessed daughter. She will never leave you.'"

He shakes his head.

"And then you spoke of a family divided and turned against itself. Children against parents, enemies within a household."

"That was all."

It was more than enough.

[jaskoleczka]

She taps a finger on the bartop, then comes to a decision. "Lady," she says softly, "may I have parchment and pen?"

The requested items materialize in a moment, along with a glass of beer that Ciri can't help but smile at. "Thank you," she says, then looks to Lan Wangji and gestures to the writing utensils.

"You were the only witness, Lan Wangji. I think it might be best if we record what I said now, while your memory is still fresh."

[lightamidchaos]

"Mn."

He has a momentary, instinctive impulse to refuse, as if writing the words will somehow make them more real.

He dismisses the thought as nonsense as quickly as it occurs. It is not as though he will be creating a talisman or an array, not with this.

After that moment's reluctance, he picks up the pen, nods to Ciri, and pulls the paper to him.

His calligraphy is absolutely impeccable.

[jaskoleczka]

It is more than he should be asked to do. This wasn't Triss, purposefully inducing a trance to try and eke out an understanding of Ciri's powers, it wasn't Yennefer making her testify before a council of sorcerers.

He had only been trying to help. And now he carries this weight alone.

"Your writing is beautiful," she says, softly, amazed at how the bar translates as he lifts pen from paper.

[lightamidchaos]

"Thank you. Calligraphy is one of the Six Arts," he says. "It has been part of my studies for as long as I can remember."

He finishes the first copy and sets about making a second, and a third.

[jaskoleczka]

She takes the first copy and tucks it carefully away in her wallet after reading through the contents.

(None of it makes sense to her. And none of it seems especially useful.)

"What are the others?"

[lightamidchaos]

"Music," he says, first. He is not sure whether or not that may need further explanation, given his previous playing.

"Archery. Mathematics. Rites - not only rituals, but proper understanding and practice of all social behavior. Chariotry, although we focus more on riding horses than driving them, and as a cultivation sect, on cultivation with the sword."

He finishes the second copy and moves to the third.

[jaskoleczka]

She turns slightly rueful green eyes on him. "Do all where you are from study music as a method of wielding magic?"

In her mind, what he describes is something like Aretuza: talented young people brought together and taught the ways of controlling Chaos, of bending it to their will.

It was what she was meant for, once.

[lightamidchaos]

"My sect does. Musical cultivation is a specialty of Gusu Lan."

It is not an accident that his family name and the name of the sect are the same, although he does not think to explain that.

"Cultivation with the sword is traditional among all sects."

[jaskoleczka]

So perhaps not like Aretuza. Perhaps more like the schools of the witchers...when such things existed.

"Gusu Lan?" she asks.

"Is your family the head of your sect?"

[lightamidchaos]

He finishes the third copy and sets it aside, then nods.

"Yes. Gusu is the region. My brother is the sect leader."

[jaskoleczka]

"Ah." She nods in wry understanding.

"The Twin Jades of Lan."

[lightamidchaos]

He nods again.

"He is the First Jade. I am the Second Jade."

It does not immediately occur to him to explain why they are called so.

[jaskoleczka]

"The elder and the younger."

She isn't very familiar with jade, but the context seems clear enough.

Cautiously: "Will you tell him, when you see him next? Would he believe you?"

[lightamidchaos]

“No.”

Quiet but firm.

“He does not know about the inn. And in my world, Wei Ying is dead.”

[jaskoleczka]

She nods and looks back to the bartop.

"Forewarned is forearmed, they say," she says, softly. "I have known many who do not believe in the workings of destiny, and as many who swear it rules us all." She turns her head to look at him, expression frank and open.

"But I think they can all agree it is better to have more information and not less."

[lightamidchaos]

“Yes.”

It is as steady as before, and he meets her gaze directly, without hesitation.

“Which is why I thank you for the warning.” A single beat of silence. "I do not blame you, Ciri. In any way."