ourladytrees | the witcher and the goddess

[ He shakes his head. As she ties her boot, he whistles for Roach, then palpates along his side. Two, maybe three broken ribs. Bruising and contusions. Another handful of scars to add to his collection. ]

No one. [ The witcher tips his head toward the fallen monster. ] Anybody who was around here either got out when they could or got eaten.

[ Roach trots into the clearing, and Geralt goes to her to collect a small vial of Swallow and a waterskin from the saddlebag. The Swallow he keeps; the water he holds out to Julia. ] Drink. Looks like you need it.

[ Julia accepts the water, taking a deep drink. It's hard to stop herself from drinking it all down in one go, but she doesn't know how close they are to another clean source and she can't use magic to refill it. So, after another big sip, she replaces the stopper and holds it out for Geralt to take again. ]

How badly are you hurt? Really. I know you'll be fine but that means you aren't right now.

[ She's clearly not fine but she wasn't the one just tossed around by a monster, so they can deal with her shit later. ]

Broke some ribs. They'll heal.

[ He drinks down the Swallow as she's sipping at the water, then stashes the vial for a later use and accepts the waterskin back. Geralt studies her with those yellow cat's eyes, taking in her snarled hair, the dirt and smudges, her scraped up hands. ]

Hold out your hands.

[ He lifts the water to indicate he'll wash out her abrasions, which are clotted with dirt and bark from the tree she'd climbed. ] Swallow won't work on you, but I've got some salve that will.

[ When he looks at her like that, she's pretty certain he's trying to look right down to her soul. Unravel the bullshit and secrets to get to the root of things and there you will find the very fucked up sad story of Julia Wicker. But he doesn't press her for answers yet; she appreciates his focus on more practical matters first.

She also appreciates that they're just ignoring the giant dead monster next to them like it's an everyday occurrence. Though, for him, it probably is.

So she does as instructed, holding her hands out and wincing as the water flows over the scrapes and cuts she'd barely noticed through the rush of adrenaline. Now, however, they sting like hell, sharp bursts of pain that cut through the fog clinging to her mind. ]

Thank you.

[ Does she sound like a scolded child? She feels a bit like one right now even though he's done nothing of the sort. ]

[ Despite his gruffness and the violence she's just seen him enact, his touch is gentle as he washes her cuts and abrasions, carefully coaxing out the dirt. When he's finished, her hands are sore and red and several of the scrapes are bleeding freely once more, but they're clean. Geralt turns to stash what's left of the water and retrieves both salve and a small bundle of clean rags. ]

So.

[ He uncaps the salve and motions her to hold her hands out once more, then gently dabs ointment onto her wounds. ]

Someone's chasing you.

[ Or something. But one thing at a time. Roach, unbothered by any of this, puts her head down to search for anything edible left in the wreckage of the clearing as Geralt continues his ministrations. ]

[ His gentleness might be at odds with his appearance and what she's just witnessed, but it doesn't surprise her in the slightest. She'd experienced his kindness in their first meeting and felt his capacity for so much more. If anything, his actions now make her certain of how good a man he is, and just as certain of how much he doesn't need her problems dropped at his door. ]

Yeah. [ The whispered confirmation feels like a confession. There's more to it, though, and he deserves to know. ] I fucked with their shit and now they want me dead.

[ She isn't looking for sympathy. She'd do it all again, consequences be damned. ]

Hm.

[ It's all the comment he makes as he finishes dabbing ointment over her hands and begins carefully wrapping them in the rags, which are worn but soft and clean.

A girl on the run for breaking the rules, someone else's order. Sounds like somebody else he knows. He ties off the bandages and hands her the tin of salve to pocket, then turns and considers the dead chort before striding over to it, slipping his knife out of its sheath. ]

They deserve it?

[ He asks the question as he crouches next to the chort and begins the arduous process of slicing off a horn, a paw. ]

[ It's been a long time since someone took care of her like this. For a few moments, she almost feels safe, and it's a sensation she wishes she could wrap around herself like a blanket. But she might never be safe again if they can't stop the Library.

Her expression tightens slightly with a cold fury when she thinks of what the McAllistairs had gotten away with for so many years. Power and privilege used in the worst ways. There's venom in her words when she answers, tucking the tin into a pocket and watching him work. ]

They had fairies enslaved and were killing them to crush their bones to snort for magic. So yeah, they deserved it.

[ The vengeful part of her argued they deserved far worse than they'd gotten, but she'd seen the room in the aftermath of the faeries' wrath. It was a fitting end for that despicable family — she looks forward to the last member being clipped from the tree like all the rest. ]

[ He wonders what she'd think of the sorcerers of this world, some of whom would be more than willing to make that very same deal. But there are none in this part of Velen, as far as he knows; certainly none out here in the woods and the wild.

The witcher finishes collecting his trophies and proof of a contract completed, then straightens with a wince and a grunt of pain. The horn he tucks into a saddlebag; the paw he ties to the saddle itself. Task complete, he takes Roach by the bridle and leads the mare over to where Julia's standing.

He hasn't commented on her answer, and he doesn't now, only tips his head at the saddle. ]

Come on. I'll give you a leg up.

[ The worst part of giving up her power is not being able to create those new worlds where people could be safe from that sort of harm. Would any of the other gods bother with such things? They seem to create worlds and then only pay attention when it suits them, not when they're actually needed. Look at the way Our Lady Underground had just ignored all the horrible things her monster of a son was doing, and the way Ember was going to be able to just wipe out Fillory because he was bored. How was any of it right?

Julia reaches out to set a bandaged hand on Roach's neck, giving the creature a gentle pat. When was the last time she'd ridden a horse? It doesn't matter, she shouldn't be riding one now. ]

Geralt, I appreciate you saving me from that thing, but you don't need to be mixed up in my mess. If the Library finds me, they won't care about collateral damage.

[ He exhales through his nose and crosses his arms as he studies her, ignoring the twinge of pain that shoots through his ribs as he does. Brave of her. Foolhardy, but brave. Still trying to do the right thing, even though it's clear whatever had been sustaining her before was no longer at her fingertips.

He nods, once, decisive. ]

Fine.

[ In the next second, he has his hands at her waist and is lifting her up onto Roach's back, heedless of the way his ribs complain. She's tiny and feels as light as a sparrow in his hands.

If the Library finds me. He fends off a sudden desire to bring her to Kaer Morhen, where she'd be safe behind the walls and wards and where Vesemir and Eskel and Lambert could help guard. If it comes to that, it won't be right away. ]

But you may as well ride while we're keeping them from finding you. Can't leave you alone in the woods.

[ He moves faster than she can process in her current condition, lifting her before she even realizes it. Her body moves without thought, swinging her leg over so she's seated properly in the saddle. There are old memories of learning to ride as a child, taking lessons with the other rich kids because it's what families like theirs did. Of course, she'd ditched them as soon as her mother would allow.

The urge to argue rises up inside her but catches in her throat. She's so tired, and she doesn't know the way. If he leaves her out here, she'll probably just get eaten by some other monster lurking in the woods.

So... okay then. For now. ]

Fine. [ Her acquiesence screams of reluctance. She's even more reluctant to say the next part, but it doesn't seem like the sort of thing he'd find a pleasant surprise. ] But fair warning, I might pass out and fall off.

Could always tie you to the saddle.

[ His humor, as always, is buried beneath a gruff voice and unsmiling face. Even less visible is his concern. Angoulême would have thanked him for his help with a kick in the face and a shrill declaration that she was fine to walk, and Julia has no less spirit. Or so it had seemed before.

But now, there's something more to her weariness than simply being lost and tired and hungry and hurt. The witcher mulls it over as he slips Roach's reins over the mare's head and begins leading her back through the trees, walking beside horse and girl. ]

There's food in the saddlebag. More water, too.

[ And plenty more where both came from. The coin from killing the chort will be more than enough to replenish his supplies.

He ignores, for the moment, her protestations about getting him involved. He isn't planning to do anything of the kind. Witchers don't get involved. But he won't leave her here in the middle of the woods with nothing. ]

[ His humor is exactly as she remembers it, which is nothing short of comforting. When everything else in her world has changed irrevocably again, he is the same as the man in her memory. It's only been a few weeks for Julia, but they suddenly feel like years.

She wants to cry. She wants to scream. She wants to climb back into that tree and wait to wake up from this nightmare. But this isn't a dream, it's her life, and she has to figure out the new rules before she gets someone killed.

The offer of food and more water is ignored for now. There are more important things, and she's too tired to feel the pangs of hunger. ]

Does the medallion still work?

[ It should. She hopes it does, but now that her power is gone, the possibility of her gifts being undone sinks sharp claws into her chest. If he's lost that connection to his child again... ]

It does.

[ He doesn't hesitate to reassure her, though the glance he slides her way is thoughtful. She isn't Ciri, running from the Hunt, and she isn't Yennefer, desperately portaling away from Vilgefortz despite her ruined hands.

But she's still running. And with a question like that... ]

Your magic.

[ Despite his bluntness, he's trying to be gentle. She's been through plenty already. That's more than clear. ]

Is it... [ He stops, tries again. ] Are you having trouble with it?

[ The relief she feels at his reassurance is so profound, it's like someone has cut a string of tension within her. Now she can breathe a little easier, and she slumps slightly in the saddle, letting the movement of Roach sway her a bit more. And when he addresses the elephant in the woods, she can't find it within her to feel anything but tired. ]

It's gone. [ She states it bluntly and emotionlessly, staring blankly ahead. ] I gave it up.

[ Despite everything, she doesn't regret that decision. She couldn't have lived with herself if she'd made any other. ]

Mm.

[ He slides another look at her at that. Studying the way she sits. The exhaustion and pain. That sorrow stamped on her features carved a little deeper.

I gave it up. Ciri had given up magic, once, she'd told him. For a long while. She'd touched the power of fire and it almost destroyed her. And she'd give up the power in her blood, he knows, in a second. If she could.

But none of that's likely to mean much to Julia. He's not well-versed in offering comfort, but even he can recognize that. ]

How'd you get back here?

[ A reasonable question, surely. Without magic, she wouldn't have been able to open portals, far less cross from one world to another. And if he knows how she got here, it'll make it that much easier to keep a lookout for anything that might have followed her. ]

[ She's a little surprised he doesn't demand that she elaborate on that. Her friends back home would have. It's not a bad thing, it's just how they are. Geralt isn't that way, though, she's realizing. He's quiet, thoughtful, a man of purposeful words. She's finding she likes that about him.

The question he does ask is a good one. It makes sense, given what she's just told him. The answer isn't a simple one, though, and she has to gather her thoughts for a few moments before she can begin to explain with enough context for him to get the full picture. ]

There's a space between worlds called the Neitherlands where the Library is based. There are portals there, hundreds of them, in the form of fountains. It doesn't take magic to use them, you just jump in. [ She takes a deep breath. ] They were moving us, my friends and me, and I managed to get away. I ran and they followed. I couldn't get to the Earth fountain, so I dove into a random one. I don't know if anyone came in after me, I just kept running.

[ It feels like she hasn't stopped running and she's so very tired. ]

They follow you in?

[ If so, he'll send her ahead on Roach, lie in wait and spring a trap. But he'd prefer to get back to the village and get his coin, first. Not that things ever quite seem to go the way her prefers.

Belatedly, he realizes: his medallion isn't humming. Her magic, as she'd said, really is gone. He looks at that fact sidelong, unsure of what it means. Yen might know. But Yen isn't here. ]

You see any of them since you came into this world?

[ A plane filled with fountains, each one leading to a different world. Like what Ciri can do, but just... there. Built by whom? And waiting for what?

The Hunt can never learn about it. This... Neitherlands. Which means they can never know about Julia. Which suits him just fine. ]

[ Again, Julia is quiet, really thinking over the answer to his question. Had she been followed? It's hard to say, she hasn't exactly been in the best state of mind, but if anyone had come in after her, they probably could have followed her easily enough. ]

No... [ She says it uncertainly, then shakes her head decisively. ] No. It's been... I don't know how long, but I think they would have found me by now.

[ Her memories and perception of time are fragmented, pieces bleeding into each other, and she really doesn't know if she'd arrived only hours ago or days. Either way, it makes sense to assume that she wouldn't have made it as far as she did if her pursuers had come in after her. With that bit of relief sinking in, she's able to crack something almost resembling a joke. ]

Maybe they knew which world this was and figured I'd get eaten by something before long.

Hm. [ There's something almost like gruff amusement in that grunt. ] Sensible thing to figure. You'd have made a nice little snack for that chort.

[ And a chort is far from the worst thing that might find her, here. If he's being honest, getting eaten might not even be the worst thing that could happen to her. At least it would be over reasonably quickly. ] Lucky for you the village ealdorman put a contract out on it. Damn thing destroyed a farm a little ways out from here.

[ The woods are beginning to thin around them, but the world is still dim. It'll be late before they make it back to the village.

No magic. No way back to the world of the fountains. He sets those problems at the back of his mind to worry over like a dog with a bone. ] There's an inn at the village. Can find some shelter there tonight.

[ A chort. What a simple name for something so hideous and capable of such destruction. She wonders vaguely about the other monsters he hunts. Are there any that aren't this dangerous? Are there some that are even worse? Of course, there are. She hopes she never has occasion to face one of them.

Julia's quiet for a moment after he mentions the inn, letting the idea sink in. What happens next is very uncharacteristic of her, and only serves to illustrate just how out of sorts she is. ]

I don't know what I'm going to do, Geralt. [ Her voice is small and lost, like that of a child who is scared and alone. ] Stay at the inn tonight, and then... What? I have to go back, I need to help my friends, but like this, I...

[ What if she doesn't get better? What if she doesn't regain her strength or the ability to do even basic magic? What chance will she have against the Library like this? ]

[ Though his expression doesn't change, that tone – helpless, vulnerable – can't help spearing him straight through. He can almost hear Regis laughing at him. So, the witcher has a heart after all. ]

One thing at a time.

[ It's less advice than necessity. She can't plan while she's shocked and exhausted, hungry and dirty and injured. And anything he might do requires consideration beforehand.

He badly wishes Yen or Triss were here to offer advice. But he doesn't even know where he might write to them. Triss, he thinks, is in Novigrad, but the gods alone know where Yen is. ]

Gotta rest before you can do anything. Can't help anyone if you're falling down exhausted.

[ The magic, that's a harder question. Would she be able to draw from a place of power, or use a talisman? He doesn't know, and he's leery of making an offer until he's sure he can deliver. ]

Besides. Got me to help.

[ Even though she's a grown, capable woman, some part of Julia desperately wants someone to just tell her that everything will be okay. She wants someone to tell her that in a way that will make her believe them. But she can't ask Geralt for that, and he doesn't seem like the type to offer empty words like that. He is offering her something, though, and she's not sure she's worth all that. ]

Are you sure you want to sign up for that? What if it turns out to be more trouble than you bargained for?

[ That's almost certainly true. And he can almost hear Vesemir's scolding, a reminder. Witchers don't meddle in the affairs of the rest of the world.

Their one purpose is to hunt monsters. But that doesn't mean she's out of options. ]

Could hire me.

[ He says it conversationally, as Roach clip-clops alongside. ]

Guess then it would be what I bargained for. So long as I bargain.

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geralt, you precious cinnamonroll

the imprinting is complete, u are now his duckling julia

geralt, your duckling needs a hug

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