HEN ICHAER

𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦.

[crzrl]

𝙲𝚁𝚉𝚁𝙻 ! highly private book & game based ciri of the witcher saga. interpreted by sam. canon divergent & anti-netflix. generally low & fluctuating activity.

CARRD. / PROMPTS. / HEADCANONS. / PINTEREST.

this is a roleplay blog. do not reblog my posts unless you were tagged, do not interact with my posts unless i follow you.

AFFILIATES: WIEDZLAK, MISAENTROPY, PENDDRAIG

[crzrl]

lowkey hoping the dlc will have more "playing as ciri" sequences like the base game did, since it supposedly bridges the gap between iii and iv, but the title is making me less hopeful that that will be the case. poking cdpr with a stick. trailer when?

[kovir]

WITCHER IV REVEAL TRAILER Ciri fighting like Geralt  

[spellheld]

there is a pang, deep in his chest at the young woman's apology, that almost dulls the chill running down his spine. he has heard of the wild hunt, the specter and ill omen whispered on the hushed tongues of drunken sailors or old wives. he shudders to imagine what ciri might've witnessed in her disturbed trance. but more does his heart break at her concern for him.

"do not apologize," he hurries to reassure. "you have done nothing deserving of an apology. i was frightened—but only for you, not of you. i... know something of visions that come uninvited, unannounced, with no regard for time or manner. there is... i must believe there is some reason, some purpose, even if it eludes us. your vision... it warns you, yes? of danger—not of visiting an old friend and keeping him company."

dradeel smiles. his fraying nerves fortified by a surge of protectiveness towards the young woman, whom he has discovered sharing more with him than he thought he knew.

"these... riders. this hunt... is it close?" after the whirlwind of emotions begin to settle, his mind snaps to the most pressing concern. "i would say we should move but... this vision of yours, does it work both ways? you don't think—... would the hunt, or someone among them, see you as you saw them?"

[crzrl]

the sudden taste of blood tells the young woman she's worried her lip too much, dry skin breaking under her teeth. ciri wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "no," she answers to both, but hesitates. "well, sometimes... it depends on who means to speak to me i think. dunno. never quite ... understood it all." she shakes her head. this isn't something she has spoken to many people about.

"don't think they saw me. but they're coming, and soon. if they find out you were with me..." she breaks off, thinking it better to spare him the details of whatever fate might await him. guilt is acidic, eating at her insides. "it's best if i leave alone. they can only sense my magic when i use it. better for you if you're not nearby then." somehow she'd hoped to not have to leave her home world again so soon, not to mention the kind elf's side. she would miss his gentle wit and delicious food.

ciri rubs at her forehead. whatever soft glow the wine had brought her mind has been erased. fatigue weighs on her eyes, but sleep is a lost cause now. she'd rather not dream these words again.

"you said you know something of visions." peering back at dradeel, there is earnest curiousity—and perhaps some hope—in her question. "do you get them too?"

[crzrl]

i just wanna say. this gif makes me feel insane. goodbye

[crzrl]

i've tidied up a bit ... fixed the carrd, cleared most of my drafts bc they were from 2023 and people aren't on those blogs anymore for the most part 💀 wipes the dust off. whoops.

[mizua]

Visit Original Link

[leopardmuffinxo]

The Witcher IV Cinematic Reveal Trailer | The Game Awards 2024

[wiedzlak]

she is undeniably telling the truth.    the witcher's memory may be stripped away,    but his good sense is not.    if he has ever witnessed a more despairing creature then this,    he does not know it now.    there is a shell around his mind,    and something beats incessantly upon it,    silent tapping and clanging ringing as a vibration through his head,    convulsing along his temple and down the side of his jaw.    her heart aches like that of a grieving daughter's :    he can hear it in its beat.

❝    you must have the wrong person.    no one in the hunt consorts with anyone outside of it.    and i would know if i knew you before.    ❞        he wouldn't.    he does not know this.    a great blot of nothingness greets him when he tries to consider how the wild hunt had found him.    or,    rather,    there is nothing he can do to fully comprehend the question in the first place.    he knows to a certain extent.    his time with the red riders is a fact,    a very certain present.    he has always been this.    he has always been this.

SHE IS DOWN,    VULNERABLE.    GERALT'S GRIP TIGHTENS,    LEATHER GLOVES MANAGING A SMALL SOUND IN PROTEST.    NOW IS THE BEST CHANCE TO SLASH HER TENDONS AND MAKE SURE SHE CANNOT RUN AWAY.

his own blade lowers,    feet stopping in a dead halt two arms' lengths away from the woman.    the tip of his sword rests on the ground as he turns to face her.    in a practised motion from a time he doesn't currently know,    he crouches,    sword arm resting at his side while his other forearm rests on his thigh.        ❝    ciri.    ❞        she is unfamiliar to him.    memory strives in frenzied attempts to break through the white front in his mind.        ❝    why does your name sound so familiar   …   ?    ❞

[crzrl]

she aches at how familiar he is. yet the image is disjointed. his voice is as it should be, but his words betray a difference. his movements trace the lines of her recollection, the tide filling the hollows of footprints left in the sand. his appearance is in essence the same and yet—he seems lost. it sets her off balance, more than the blood loss, or the pain. yet the goal has shifted now from survival to retrieving geralt, her geralt, from the riders' icy claws.

"because you do know me," ciri croaks. in a white-knuckle grip she clings to her sword's handle to keep herself from keeling over with exhaustion. there is desperation in the brilliant green of her eyes. anger, too, simmering in her gut. but they have stopped their deadly dance for a moment, and he stays his blade when she is weak. perhaps her geralt remains within him, after all.

the young woman looks up at him. she doesn't remember a time he did not know her. it feels as though he always has. he must still, he must. "because you've saved my life more often than i can count, you taught me how to be a witcher, how to fight. because you are my father... not by blood, but every measure that counts."

she has to leave. any moment she stays risks him changing his mind, risks her injuries growing worse, losing time lest the other riders wonder what's taking so long. there is a terrible certainty within her that she will not pry him from their hands just yet. but just a little longer and he might tell her something, anything, might open his eyes and understand.

"don't you see? they sent you because you know me. deep down under all ... whatever spell they've placed you under, you know me."

[crzrl]

also while i'm here, happy pride, reminder that my ciri is a lesbian and unless plotted otherwise, is madly in love with cerys an craite x

[wiedzlak]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤIN ORDER TO BECOME A WITCHER,    YOU HAVE TO BE BORN IN THE SHADOW OF DESTINY,    AND VERY FEW ARE BORN LIKE THAT.    THAT’S WHY THERE ARE SO FEW OF US.    WE’RE GROWING OLD,    DYING,    WITHOUT ANYONE TO PASS OUR KNOWLEDGE,    OUR GIFTS,    ON TO.    WE LACK SUCCESSORS.    AND THIS WORLD IS FULL OF EVIL WHICH WAITS FOR THE DAY NONE OF US ARE LEFT.

INDEPENDENT, PRIVATE GERALT OF RIVIA [ ... ] THE WHITE WOLF OF THE WITCHER SAGA. BOOKS-BASED, GAMES-COMPLIANT. PREVIOUSLY WILCZMIN. since 2020. by kat, she/her, 29.

read carrd byf. UNAFFILIATED WITH ANDRZEJ SAPKOWSKI OR CD PROJEKT RED. CHARACTERISATION HEAVILY RELIANT UPON OWN HEADCANON. influenced by mixed wiedźmin media & slavic folklore.

[itspapillonnoir]

THE WITCHER 4

[crzrl]

i don't think we acknowledge enough the days ciri spent on fantasy cocaine as a 16 (?) y/o and the damage that most likely did to her developing brain 😭

[spellheld]

dradeel doesn't drink much these days. the taste of wine and rum reminds him of a different time that he would rather preserve in the amber of memory. he indulges in the occasional tavern ale, but it does not keep as well as wine to take on the road. so he remains sober. something dradeel would come to be grateful for when ciri suddenly goes stiff. intuitively, he understands something has gone terribly wrong even before feeling the swelling of magic prickling at his skin.

he springs to his feet, panicked and terrified not for himself but for her. whatever grips her has done so without her control. for all of his prophetic visions, dradeel has not foreseen this rupture, and he has no idea how to repair it.

"ciri!" he calls out, grabbing her arm and putting a hand behind her head lest she topples over or hurts her neck with the way she cranes toward the sky. the way her eyes flash makes his lungs seize.

"ciri- ciri, WHAT DO YOU SEE?!" dradeel does not claim to know much of magic, in its theory or the intricacy of its mechanics, having not received any formal education on the matter. but dradeel knows something about sight, how it could enlighten or distort, guide or invade...

what sound pouring out of ciri's mouth makes his blood run cold. it is her voice but not her words something, someone, some unseen power has taken her, puppeteering her tongue with violence force. dradeel could want nothing more but to shield her, to tear off those invisible strings and rescue her from what terrible machination has gripped her. but he could do nothing of the sort, utterly helpless and useless in the face of her suffering.

ciri's tears cut him like daggers. dradeel takes her face into his callous hands when she finally comes to; his concern overtaking any sense of propriety for a moment as he searches her face desperately for... he isn't sure what he is looking for for a sign of damage, of recovery, or, simply, her.

"you- you were... what happened? your eyes— you looked as though you were seeing things," he stammers, remembering suddenly to back away and allowing her space to breathe. "you were saying... you called out the name zireael. and spoke of the skies... dearg rua—... sorry, my elder speech is...- something red?"

[crzrl]

it had been years. years since last she spoke like this. since she saw, not in a dream that one day became truth, but visions taking over her sight, so real and bright----- helpless to stop it, ciri shudders, trying to shake the chill it left in her body. when her eyes focus on the present again, she sees the fear and concern in dradeel's eyes. the echoes of watching her helplessly. a pang of guilt comes over her then, mixing with fatigue, embarrassment, frustration ...

she turns away and hopes he doesn't see the way her lips press into a line at the name zireael.

"the dearg ruadhri," ciri completes the phrase, looking suddenly older than she had. "you've likely heard of the wild hunt. that is what they call themselves. the red riders." glad to have her space again, ciri pulls her knees up against her chest, and stares into the fire. her fingers pick at her boot, while she feels her heart rate slowly return to normal. the tightness in her throat remains. "sorry," she adds after some silence. "must've freaked you out." a small, apologetic smile on her lips, she looks over at the elf again. the elf who had rushed to her side, bleeding concern for a young woman he'd only just met a day ago.

there is kindness in many corners of many worlds. she must remember it.

"i didn't ... this hasn't happened in a while. it's----sometimes as if someone talks to me. or through me. or ..." she knows who it was, this time. the voice may have been her own, but she can hear his tone in them. avallac'h, the aen saevherne, the aen elle sage who trapped her once. "why is he warning me now?" ciri asks herself quietly, her arms now wrapping around her legs. then, louder: "the riders have been hunting me for a long time. i think he was----what i saw, was a warning. they must be close. i shouldn't have come back here."

she chews at her lip, the images flashing by her mind's eye again and again. were they real prophecy, or merely part of the warning?

"put you in danger. i'll leave in the morning."

[mizua]

Visit Original Link

[crzrl]

my favourite thing the devs have been saying since the trailer is that ciri will always choose. it's so true. geralt says he would rather not choose at all if the choice is between two evils--only to learn that not choosing is a choice in itself. ciri never has to learn that lesson. not even geralt telling her about shaerrawedd is required for her to learn it. she will always choose. she will never turn her back or walk away, it's impossible for her. and i wonder how her time on the path will shape that. i absolutely cannot wait to see what all they throw at her and how they let her react to it and grow with it. and i have full faith in cd projekt to represent her well.

[crzrl]

maybe it was the wine, ciri would later think, and attempt to convince herself of it. did they not say that when she was little, a lion cub in the wolf den, that it was the white gull that made her speak things she couldn't remember? yes, maybe it was the wine, though nothing is ever quite so strong as the alcohol witchers drink, the kind they certainly shouldn't have given an eleven year-old. so maybe it was the wine. that's easier to swallow than the truth of it. that a river leads into her mind, a stream of magic that opens a door for her to receive and be at its mercy all the same. a source is not an endless well to herself, but rather a gateway for voices that aren't her own.

she didn't think it would happen now. here, of all places. the elf has been nothing but gentle and kind to her. the witcher girl doesn't mean to frighten him.

the only thing she feels is a numbness in her hands. pins and needles follow, but still she cannot move. sitting by the fire, the green of her eyes flares with an unnatural flash. her eyes widen slightly, but her gaze stays fixed on the night sky. on the endless stars above, constellations she could name in her sleep. when ciri's lips move, it is her voice that speaks, and yet not hers at all.

" watch the skies, zireael. the dearg ruadhri ride to hunt ... "

she can hear herself say it. feels a chill she hasn't felt in years. like an ice cold hand holding gripping her by the neck. her vision blanks and turns inward to a flash of something. encroaching ice and thundering hooves. the taste of ash in her mouth ... when it fades, ciri wrestles with tears of frustration, blinking them away before she looks at dradeel. and her voice is her own again. forceful, but wavering slightly at the edges. "i didn't what did i just say? did you hear what i just said?"

@spellheld