[pfsb] "wind's howling..."

[bialy_wilk]

The door opens, and a predator walks inside.

He is tall, broad-shouldered. Every movement is accompanied by the creak of leather and clink of chain; his boots sound steadily on the worn wood floor. Each of the two swords strapped to his back stretches thirty-eight inches from pommel to point, and a deep scar runs across his craggy face. His hair is snow-white. He has a cat's golden eyes, the slit, vertical pupils dilating as they adjust to this new, dimmer light.

This inn looked a lot smaller from the outside.

Smaller and dingier. And less...impossible.

"Hrm," says Geralt of Rivia, and drops his shoulders in a sigh.

Comments

[lightamidchaos]

He is in the common room earlier than usual this evening, enjoying a cup of tea while Wei Ying finishes the archery lesson with A-Tico. Lan Wangji has gotten more or less used to the passage of patrons to and from the inn, and has even come to recognize several of them.

This man he does not recognize, but there is something--

"I saw -- does he have hair like mine? And eyes like a cat?"

His own eyes widen, very slightly, as he stares at the man.

Surely not. Surely not now, when Ciri has so recently left--

[bialy_wilk]

He scans the room and its occupants with a glance, then turns his attention to where a long wooden bar runs the length of the wall.

No innkeeper in sight. No tavern wenches, either.

Strange.

He heads to the bar, moving with the coiled grace of a seasoned fighter – and the slight limp of a fighter who has survived a few too many terrible injuries. He pays little enough attention to the man in white who watches him; stares are a common currency, in his experience.

Reaching the bar, he leans an arm on the bartop, looks over the edge. "Hey."

His voice is rough. "Anyone there?"

(A napkin materializes by his elbow. He doesn't see it.)

[lightamidchaos]

"It is magic."

He leaves his table and moves to the side so that the man - who may be Geralt, the Witcher, or else someone who matches his description to an uncanny degree - can see him clearly as he approaches.

Lan Wangji stops a short distance away and brings his hands together in front of him, offering a proper bow, then straightens, standing tall and at ease in front of him.

"The bar itself."

[bialy_wilk]

He straightens, keeping his arm on the bar, and gives the young man in front of him a considering look. "Magic, huh?"

The newcomer is right. His medallion hasn't stopped shivering since he walked through the door.

There's something by his elbow; a napkin. There's writing on it. He takes it up and studies the words briefly, then puts the napkin back down again. "Must be a hell of a spell. And a hell of a mage to cast it."

Those unnaturally yellow eyes of his settle on the young man again. "Any chance you could tell me where exactly I am?"

[lightamidchaos]

"I do not know the mage, but the spell that has given Bar-guniang her existence must have been powerful indeed," he agrees.

The man's eyes are distinctive, but he is not troubled by them, not after seeing something so similar in Wei Ying's face during the holiday that had happened on his birthday; not after having had warning, such as it was, of the possibility. He holds the man's gaze without hesitation or qualm, calm certitude in manner and expression both.

"This is an inn that lies somehow between worlds," Lan Wangji tells him. "It has been given the name Milliways, as I understand. The door that you have come through serves as a portal, of sorts."

[bialy_wilk]

He listens, cutting his gaze around the room once more as he listens, and when the young man finishes, only looks back at him.

"Hm."

Portals. He hates portals. "Guess that figures, seeing as I went through a portal back where I was."

If this is Keira Metz's idea of a joke...

[lightamidchaos]

"It is not uncommon. From what I have seen."

Including the passage that led him here from Cold Pond Cave, that very first time.

"I am Lan Zhan, courtesy Wangji," he says. "Generally known as Lan Wangji." He leaves his titles aside, as he has become accustomed to doing, but given his suspicions, also adds, "A cultivator, of Gusu Lan."

[bialy_wilk]

"Geralt of Rivia," he responds. "Witcher." The wolf medallion at his chest gleams a mellow silver in the room's light.

"Never heard of a cultivator before. Or Gusu Lan, for that matter."

Not does Lan Wangji look anything like the peoples of the Continent. Hm.

[lightamidchaos]

"I thought you might be," Lan Wangji tells him. "Ciri's description was very clear."

[bialy_wilk]

Geralt's cat eyes narrow and he darts a hard look at the other man, folding his arms across his chest.

"What do you know about Ciri?"

The question is polite enough, but there's something in the set of his shoulders and the gruffness of his tone that suggests he'd be happy to make it a whole lot less so if necessary.

[lightamidchaos]

"She came here. Through a portal, as you did," Lan Wangji tells him.

The other man is suspicious, and in truth he cannot blame him. Strange enough, to find one's self here, but to also be recognized so? Ciri had told him that he was good with people, but it is things like this that would prove her wrong, he thinks. Perhaps it is better to say less, as he is more used to doing anyway.

"And has departed through one as well, although she intends to return."

He hesitates for a moment, not sure whether to mention it, then tells the witcher,

"She calls me friend. I consider her the same."

[bialy_wilk]

The witcher absorbs this new information as he watches the other man.

(The pulse he can hear is steady and calm, not pounding like a liar's.)

After a moment, he nods and looks away, as if he might be able to see her moving among the patrons of this strange place. "So she was here."

Everywhere he goes, he seems to be a few steps behind. Or more. "Was she..."

He isn't accustomed to showing emotion in front of strangers – or friends, for that matter – but there's something intent in those cat's eyes of his when he looks back at Lan Wangji. "How was she?"

[lightamidchaos]

"Injured, when she arrived," he tells him, quietly. Ciri had spoken of this man with great emotion. He suspects it is more than returned. "Healed, and well, by the time she left. She was seeking a friend that she had been separated from."

Carefully, he adds,

"She found... a sanctuary, here."

[bialy_wilk]

"What friend?"

Emhyr had told him Ciri had been seen, but he hadn't mentioned a friend or companion. "Where did she come from, did she say?"

[lightamidchaos]

He considers, but it does not take him long to reach a decision.

"For Ciri's sake, I will tell you what I can," he says, simply, and touches the wooden bartop.

"Madam Bar, do you yet hold the key to Ciri's rooms? Would you be willing to let us borrow it, if you do? We mean no harm, no real intrusion."

While waiting for her to consider, he looks back at Geralt.

"I do not know where. But her friend is called Avallac'h."

[bialy_wilk]

Geralt's eyes narrow. "Avallac'h?"

That pompous, prissy elf? Why is he traveling with Ciri?

But before he can ask, a key materializes near the hand he has on the bartop, and he picks it up to study it.

Just a regular room key. He looks at his new companion, and makes a decision. "Fine. Take me to her rooms."

[lightamidchaos]

"Mn," he assents - to both things, in fact. With no more speech than that, Lan Wangji sets off across the common room to the stairs, assuming that Geralt will follow.

He had not visited beyond the once, but his memory is good. He is able to retrace the hallways without difficulty, especially since Ciri's rooms had turned out to be so close to his and Wei Ying's.

He draws to a stop in the hall and nods to the door marked twenty-three.

[bialy_wilk]

This cultivator is a man of few words, a quality Geralt appreciates and one that is sorely lacking in many of his companions. He follows in silence, moving with lupine grace and memorizing the layout of the halls as they go.

Room twenty-three looks innocuous from the outside, but his medallion is vibrating again. She'd laid some sort of ward on the door; good. Still, it unlocks easily with the key, creaking softly as he pushes it open.

Inside, he studies the small room in silence, looking for a long moment at the banners hung on the wall, at the empty sword stand near the neatly made-up bed. He can just faintly smell the lingering remnants of cedar and elderflower. "How long was she here?"

[lightamidchaos]

"A few weeks."

He stands on the other side of the door, studying the room as well. There, the hangings that had made him think to obtain something of the sort; there, the sword stand she'd had added after they discussed it; there, where he'd sat to play music for her.

If he lets himself, he can almost hear the changed timbre of Ciri's voice speaking prophecy, all unawares. He pushes it away as best he can.

"The Hunt could not reach her here."

[bialy_wilk]

"You must be a friend, if she told you about the Hunt."

He's making his way around the room, peering closely into the chest at the foot of the bed, at the windowsill, at the half-empty carafe of water and glass on the small table.

She was here. And he's missed her.

Damn.

Satisfied with his inspection, he turns to lean against the window, crossing his arms as he looks levelly at the other man. "So, Lan Zhan, courtesy Wangji –

"Tell me everything."

[lightamidchaos]

"Lying is forbidden," Lan Wangji informs him, meeting that level gaze with the cool composure that only Wei Ying has ever been able to rattle with ease.

"And 'everything' is a lot. What is it that you wish to know?"

[bialy_wilk]

"First I've heard of it. Know plenty of liars who'd disagree."

But he gestures easily, shrugging his shoulders. "You said she came here from a portal. She say where she'd come from?"

[lightamidchaos]

"It is one of the rules of Gusu Lan - my sect," he clarifies. "I understand it may be similar in some ways to your Kaer Morhen."

He shakes his head.

"She did not. Nor where she was returning to."

[bialy_wilk]

"Hm."

She'd told him about Kaer Morhen, described Geralt himself. Interesting. "Said she was here for a couple of weeks, right? She talk to anyone besides you?"

[lightamidchaos]

"A few others, that I know of." He considers that, and considers Geralt, then adds,

"I do not know if she was particularly close to any, though."