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lothlaer https://lothlaer.tumblr.com/post/636446530341158912/not-quite-something-like-gen-yennefer-and-ciri :

Not quite, something like

Gen, Yennefer and Ciri, 1k words. *A haircut. *

Her hair’s gotten long again. A little past her shoulders, at least, and messy.

She grips her little blade tight in a strong fist, gaze to the ground. There’s mud up her trousers, filth under her nails, and her bottom lip’s red and swollen on one side where she’s torn through the flesh with her teeth. She heaves in a great breath, shoulders tensing up closer to her ears, and sighs it out. Her hand drops with it.

The blade – silver and scratched – turned towards herself. The leather hilt offered out and forward, a gift of trust.

Yennefer takes it slowly. The metal slips from Ciri’s grip, sliding dangerously across the meat of her palm as she uneasily lets it go. She looks up from the forest floor, eyes glacier-sharp, eyebrows tight.

“Neater than Geralt,” she says – demands. “And no magic.”

Yennefer forces her own gaze to soften in reply.

“No magic,” she agrees, swallowing the sparks on her tongue.

Ciri nods, short, and turns away to sit at the sorceresses’ feet. Yennefer adjusts her position on the felled tree, spreading her knees, making room for the child to sit in the empty space between them.

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