#lwiamatka

[korzionarchive]

@lwiamatka liked for a one-liner

"Perhaps I was fated to begin a new life here with you."

[suresaint]

@lwiamatka liked for a starter

By mid-spring, all of the ice had melted from the valley's winding streams and was, after what had felt to the witcher to be a long and desolate winter, overflowing with life once more. She was knelt by the river's edge, watching the rainbow-bellied trout swim upstream, their colourful scales rippling beneath the water's surface in streaks of pale pinks and iridescent purples. 

     Beetroot, her steed, had his white head bowed to the stream, his tongue lapping thirstily at the freshwater. She had risen early so that she could enjoy the morning sunshine alone and was washing the sleep from the corners of her eyes when something strange occurred. It felt like a pulse at first, not unlike a short burst of wind. Then a force rushed her all at once, from seemingly out of thin air, so suddenly and with such potency that she almost toppled head first into the stream. It rushed through the trees. Beetroot gave a high shriek and smacked his front hooves nervously against the ground, disturbed.

     Zelda wasted no time in getting to her feet, her blade in her hand in a flash. The witcher's eyes darted across the thicket, searching, waiting, when she caught sight of something fair in the underbrush. When she looked closer, she saw that it was a young girl with near-white hair. She looked panicked, tears on her cheeks. Zelda could hear her sobbing and trying to talk. Then, faintly, she heard another voice, this one weaker. Cautiously, she approached, calling out once she felt she was close enough. “Ho! Who are you, child? Do you know where you are? And who is that there with you? Show yourself.”

[faestorian]

Queen Calanthe and little Ciri for @lwiamatka 🦁👸🦁 Happy birthday, love!

[xradiant]

@lwiamatka​

she had found the thing among Geralt’s things, had read up on it and the thought had immediately popped into her head. she didn’t actually decide on it until she had saddled Kelpie and gone off riding in the direction of Cintra. she was sure that she wouldn’t be noticed, especially not hooded and during the late night as well. she rode without much thinking, somewhat numb as she thought on everything that had happened between her being forced away from her grandmother’s arms to this moment here. Cintra was so different from how she remembered it as a child and that hurt her in a million different ways. she could remember these streets, could remember the gardens in the palace where she had played with her grandmother, the rooms of the palace where she had played and learned and been raised. but most of all she remembered her grandmother. her kind eyes and firm but caring way that she had taken care of Ciri. it all made her heart ache as she stared around the quiet city. it was hours yet until morning. she had plenty of time. 

once she had Kelpie tied to a tree well away from the spot she grabbed her leather scrip and made her way towards the ruins of the courtyard. she had heard stories of the way that she had died, how she - she cuts herself off with a thick swallow and then makes her way further, drawing out the Lamp from within the scrip. situating herself to sit right there on the ground she sets the Lamp there before her as a soft breeze blew through the area. the Lamp started to really glow now. “well, shit -” she mutters as she stares ahead at the warm glow the thing casts everywhere. “- maybe it does work.” there were likely to be plenty of ghosts here given the place and the history of Cintra. but maybe Calanthe, her grandmother, would be the one to hear her, sense her even. was that how it worked? she should have asked questions although she’s pretty sure that Geralt would have wanted to come along and she wanted to do this on her own. she needed to.

“grandmother?” she calls out after clearing her throat some, her eyes scanning the area and then returning to the warm glow ahead of her. “I hope that I’m not interrupting your rest or whatever it is you’re doing right now.” and she feels like a little girl again, peeking in on her grandmother and watching her speak to her council, only to be allowed in so that they could spend the day together. “I thought that we could talk.”

[chaotiicgoods]

@lwiamatka​ said: send  💬  for  an  angsty  starter . for Ciri? Go ahead and break my heart gdfgdfg STARTER CALL MEME | ACCEPTING

Ciri knows she can’t visit her grandmother; she knows it’s too dangerous. She can’t stay somewhere for a long period, but she needs Calanthe, even if it’s just for one minute. She’s so sick of getting people killed just because she needs to run away from the Wild Hunt instead of fighting them. She wants this to stop. It HURTS way too much.

When she sees her grandmother, she just runs into her arms. “I’m leaving, don’t worry. I just need a hug.” Her voice is shaking. She wants to stay, of course. But she can’t. She just can’t Calanthe get hurt because of her. 

[slipperheiress]

@lwiamatka liked for a starter

"Your Majesty," Marie-Alexandra greeted, her advisors had told her that Calanthe had been made queen of her kingdom at a young age. There was hope there that Marie-Alexandra as a young monarch herself could learn a lot from the Queen of Cintra.

"You are most welcome here, I hope your journey was favorable."

[lwiatkc]

ᴛʜᴇ      ᴇɴᴅ      ᴏꜰ      ᴛʜᴇ      ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ      ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇᴅ      ɪɴ      ʀᴀɢᴇ.                    her heart had been in it  ;  and more than that her heart had needed it.  while a PROPHECY had lead her to take down the ultimate enemy, her journey had never felt complete upon roaming everywhere and nowhere within the confines of the Continent.  there was a singular space she desired    --    nay. . . she NEEDED.  it belonged to her once.  to her family.  to the people most important to her.

so with revenge in mind, she set out on ANOTHER hero’s quest.  this one she knew she had to win to be a heroine of her people more so than the heroine of all the worlds.  perhaps others would say the latter is of much more important, but to ciri?  rescuing cintra from the grasps of a heinous emperor felt much more important.

THE LAST REIGNING LIONESS OF CINTRA would have hated that ciri felt the need to bring her up in some of the towns she gathered back to her side.  but she had to remind them of the strength possessed by the people when they were not united by a dictator.  calanthe was loved.  calanthe was everything to the people    --    a martyr who made the loss of she so much harder to swallow.  ciri is her next of kin    --    ciri is the only one with a rightful claim to the cintran throne.

perhaps emhyr should have thought this through before KILLING pavetta and ransacking the entire cintran kingdom.  no false royal would prove to stand up in the battle that would come.  neither emhyr nor his wife would prove useful at the other side of ZIREAEL.

he underestimated so much, most of all his own daughter.  it was not CALANTHE’S name or the strength of geralt and yennefer that rallied the troops behind her.  it is the grand warrior that ciri had become    --    the lioness in her own right        --        that gave strength to those who fought alongside her.  the many queens of the continent and the islands united as one, easily overthrowing the power that the patriarchal emperor had tried to establish.

when emhyr stormed cintra, he took no prisoners.  he slaughtered her people before she was truly old enough to understand what was happening before her.  but cirilla?  she is not of the same mind.

when the moment came, she offered the false cirilla            (  as others had been calling her, the name of the woman long ago lost to the stories of time  )               an opportunity to renounce her husband and remain banished from ANY of the no longer occupied northern cities.  she chose instead to stand by her husband and for that ciri had pity for her.  it would not change that her fate became the same of her husband, but ciri took no pleasure in her death.

the castle that night. . . was quiet.  the celebration was happening outside but she remained indoors.  at first it had all been in rage.  fingers gripped into the fabric of any evidence that remained of nilfgaard’s takeover.  she pulled, ripped, burned with candles    --    ANYTHING that might remind her of the pain    --  

she only stops when she reaches what no longer looks like her favorite room.  grandmama’s study.  not her bedroom where nightmares ran rampant.  and not her OWN room where she tossed and turned and failed mostly to sleep.  but the room where she spent time when it rained and couldn’t run about the gardens with her friends.  the fireplace    --    for you can’t change a fireplace without ripping it apart brick by brick    --    felt the same.  ciri leans down, pulling off a gauntlet and pressing a hand against the warm stone.  her emerald eyes flutter shut and she thinks, just for a moment, of something else. . .

“  grandmama please i don’t want to go to bed!  ”

“  now, now cirineczka  --  ”

in truly the most dramatic fashion a ten year old can offer, ciri sighs and lays across the entire couch resting just in front of the fire.  no room for anyone to sit on it    --    and absolutely no way anyone will be able to drag her from it.

“  no more nicknames!!!!!  ”

“  don’t sigh at your grandmama.  ”

now there’s a pout, but she sits up just enough for her emerald eyes to shine right over to her favorite person.  she acts like she hates it, but there’s nothing she loves more than moments like right now.  especially when calanthe takes advantage of the moment and takes up space on the couch with her, allowing ciri’s head to fall onto her lap.

“  i’m sorry.  i just    --    ”                 a yawn.                  “  am not tired. . .  ”

she hears a voice in the doorway which pulls her from the trance of the memory.  she vaguely hears the mention of joining the festivities outside and nods, pushing herself back to stand and slipping the gauntlet back over her bare hand.  when she’s alone again, just for a moment, her eyes flutter closed to let a single sentence escape her lips:

ɪ   ᴡɪʟʟ   ᴍᴀᴋᴇ   ʏᴏᴜ   ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ,   ʙᴀʙᴄɪᴜ.

ft. @lwiamatka​ <3

[zrobionywilk]

      𝐚  𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐤  𝐢𝐬  hidden  behind  a  raised  goblet  of  wine  as  geralt  takes  a  small  sip  of  the  wine .     he  liked  being  in  cintra .     even  more  so  in  the  company  of    @lwiamatka​​ .          ❝   if  you  wanted  me  to     stay  ,   all  you  had  to  do  was  ask  ,   ❞          he  said  ,   setting  the  goblet  back  down   &   gaze  moving  over  to  the  queen .     a  softness      —      a  sight  mainly  reserved  for  only  a    SELECT    few      —      crept  across  once  stoic  features .     it  was  like  a  cat     calming  down     after  bristling  up  ,   done  with  time   &   in  a  safe  space .            ❝   you  know  it’s     rather  difficult     to      say  no  to  you .   ❞