[ Ciri doesn't actually respond, but that is not unlike her; she is like Geralt that way, especially after what had happened to him in Thorne, using the magic only infrequently, if not for something that qualifies as an emergency then only out of necessity to set up a meeting in the Horizon should the person she wants to reach be too far for a letter. It is enough to know that Jaskier has gotten the note.
On the way home, Ciri stops by the market for fresh milk and cream. She grabs some more butter too, and a few other things they're running low on. Despite having no particular excitement for the city's ongoing celebration this week -- and more than a little lingering peripheral anxiety about whatever's going on around the Singularity in the days to come -- today, Ciri is in a good mood. When a girl selling lit-up wire and cloth flowers tries to persuade Ciri to take a look at her wares as she passes, she stops.
They are simple things at first glance, a wire stem wrapped in ribbon and petals shaped with thinner wires, across which, like tiny sails, are stretched bits of cloth. Hand-crafted as they are, some are a little bent and uneven, but their imperfection lends them a somehow more realistic quality, a charming sort of personality to them that makes her smile. What really sets them apart is the faint but persistent glow in the approaching dusk-- and the colors, vibrant as a garden in spring. When Ciri shows interest, the girl lights up nearly as bright. As it happens, she is an apprentice at some apparently well-known inventor's workshop, and these little flowers are her creation, practicing with technology the workshop is trying out. Some sort of chemical reaction in the wires, Ciri's told. She doesn't really understand it, but the girl assures her they should glow for at least until the end Enlightenment in a few days' time.
Ciri chooses a small bundle of yellow flowers, and the girl wraps a green ribbon around their stems before exchanging them for Ciri's coin. And a few extra, with instructions for the young inventor to treat herself to something nice rather than giving them over to her workshop's master. The girl blushes, Ciri grins, and they part ways with lighter hearts.
It's dark by the time Ciri makes it back, but it was worth the extra time. The flowers glow like little stars now that the sun is gone.
She juggles bags and bouquet to fiddle with the keys, then shoulders her way in calling out for Jaskier. ]
Evening! You wouldn't believe how quickly the chill sets in after sundown. Brr! I think I've grown coddled by these nonsense temperatures.
no subject
On the way home, Ciri stops by the market for fresh milk and cream. She grabs some more butter too, and a few other things they're running low on. Despite having no particular excitement for the city's ongoing celebration this week -- and more than a little lingering peripheral anxiety about whatever's going on around the Singularity in the days to come -- today, Ciri is in a good mood. When a girl selling lit-up wire and cloth flowers tries to persuade Ciri to take a look at her wares as she passes, she stops.
They are simple things at first glance, a wire stem wrapped in ribbon and petals shaped with thinner wires, across which, like tiny sails, are stretched bits of cloth. Hand-crafted as they are, some are a little bent and uneven, but their imperfection lends them a somehow more realistic quality, a charming sort of personality to them that makes her smile. What really sets them apart is the faint but persistent glow in the approaching dusk-- and the colors, vibrant as a garden in spring. When Ciri shows interest, the girl lights up nearly as bright. As it happens, she is an apprentice at some apparently well-known inventor's workshop, and these little flowers are her creation, practicing with technology the workshop is trying out. Some sort of chemical reaction in the wires, Ciri's told. She doesn't really understand it, but the girl assures her they should glow for at least until the end Enlightenment in a few days' time.
Ciri chooses a small bundle of yellow flowers, and the girl wraps a green ribbon around their stems before exchanging them for Ciri's coin. And a few extra, with instructions for the young inventor to treat herself to something nice rather than giving them over to her workshop's master. The girl blushes, Ciri grins, and they part ways with lighter hearts.
It's dark by the time Ciri makes it back, but it was worth the extra time. The flowers glow like little stars now that the sun is gone.
She juggles bags and bouquet to fiddle with the keys, then shoulders her way in calling out for Jaskier. ]
Evening! You wouldn't believe how quickly the chill sets in after sundown. Brr! I think I've grown coddled by these nonsense temperatures.