dragonlady7

riannon, empress ciri, our lady of space and time, the witcher

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so this is the thing that’s been eating my brain for the last few days. the problem is that i am wildly overtired, and so should really just give myself a little break from writing, and had intended to do that, but then my brain was like NO MUST FOLLOW IDEA, and so i am sort of helplessly watching as this random scratch doc which was supposed to be for ideas about a different thing entirely starts filling up with just….. this…… it’s not good, this story, it’s not coherent, i did none of the worldbuilding ahead, and it’s mostly just…. pure unfiltered id.

but the premise (have I mentioned this on here? surely i have) is that, sometime after Fit For Pearls (which will end with Lu and Ciri getting some of their shit together), and after the sequel I’ve mentally outlined in which Ciri and Lu then get the vague outlines of their shit together with Morvran included, Ciri decides to take their relationships to the next level by bringing them instead of Geralt along on one of her world-hopping adventures.

(I’m taking advantage of my decision not to have told any of FFP from Ciri’s POV to retroactively fill in a great deal of nonsense that only she knows about, which will become clear later. Why do you think she’s been so well-behaved, and Geralt so willing to bum around Nilfgaard doing nothing for weeks?)

Her reasoning is that she wants to repay favors to various worlds where people helped her out, but also she wants to have fun there, and some of these cyberpunk dystopias have really good drugs, and Geralt is no fun in places like this. So she brings Morvran and Lu along instead.

And shenanigans ensue.

But mostly this has been my id whumping Morvran because that is how I get through hard times, apparently. I promise he gets a good payoff, especially since the favor Ciri owes on this world is because they have really good modern medical technology, but I tend to linger on the hurt bits because for some horrible reason that’s the only way I get serotonin lately. TWs below mostly for incredible but canon-typical violence.

He planted and swung, cutting a person entirely in half, and then there was no target for his next swing. He looked up. “I hope this is the right hallway,” he said, and swung around to look.

“Yes,” Ciri shouted, “go,” and he took a few steps down it, turned back to look for her, and she flew past him, her grin ghastly through a thick spatter of blood across her face. “That was amazing,” she said.

“What was,” he said, but some of his worry eased as he realized that could not possibly be her blood.

“You,” she said. “That was fucking hot!”

“It was fucking disgusting,” he said. “At least they didn’t have pikes.” The thing about a charge like that on horseback is that you got less sprayback to the face. He was dripping with gore and it was awful. And this floor was particularly unkind as a surface for blood-soaked leather soles, but he did his best, consoling himself that it wouldn’t be any better for horseshoes.

They ran down the hallway, and after a moment Morvran said, “Do you think their doctors can put a person back together who’s been cut in half?”

One of the voices on the device in his ear started to answer, but Ciri said, first and louder, “Probably,” and the ear-voice subsided.

“I promise, they’re bad people,” said the stranger-ear-voice after a moment.

“Well a bunch of them are halves of people now,” Morvran said a little gloomily. “I’m wearing parts of them. Ugh.” He thought, but did not say, that it was better than Temerian peasants. He hadn’t personally worn a lot of Temerian peasant guts during the war but he’d encountered a reasonable share of them. He imagined this would not be terribly well-received by his audience, however.

(Morvran’s in armor and the people on this world keep assuming he’s a robot. He’s got a translator device and it can’t figure out how to render robot into something he understands. It’s a running gag.)

“What is your deal, robot,” asked one of the wounded from the floor, cowering as Morvran turned to step over him.

“I’m not a fucking rabbit,” Morvran said, harried, and switched his sword to the other hand so he could brace himself on the wall so as not to slip in the pool of blood there.

(listen if the game devs can be Horny about ciri’s outfit then so can I)

“Do you think,” he said, a little breathlessly as they sprinted down the hall, “you could do me one favor?”

“What,” Ciri said.

“Do up that chainmail vest,” he said. “It would entirely stop their blades and it’s making me nervous that it’ll do you no good like that.”

She laughed. “If you were anyone else I’d accuse you of staring at my tits,” she said, but she also broke stride to sheathe her sword, and began doing up the fasteners as she ran.

Morvran had, in fact, been finding it quite difficult all day not to look at her breasts, which were rather visibly unrestrained under the single layer of metallic fabric she’d draped over them, but from this angle he was behind her and couldn’t see them, so she was unwittingly correct in this instance. He’d figured it was his problem to cope with, up until now when he couldn’t stop thinking of all the torsos he’d just carved brutal chunks out of, and the way that defender’s sword had just crumpled against his bracer. If she got fucking stabbed because all she was wearing was a thin shirt, with her chain mail right there, he was going to lose his mind. (Your picture was not posted)