starless

Slowly she nodded, gripping the seat of the bench the temptation to ask if he considered that kiss a success growing within her but the woman thought better of it- was that answer one she really wanted to know? It was embarrassing enough being her age having only just had her first kiss.

“Of course you’re older than you look, who isn’t?” All the men she had lived with we’re older than her grandparents and looks much younger, Ciri learned quickly not to assume- at least not out loud. “If it helps your ego, you’re probably going to be the only person I’ve kissed in my life. Going to be very hard to forget it when there’s just been one.” But she couldn’t help feeling a soft tug in her heart, sympathy creeping into it and how it must feel to be old enough to outlive those you once cared for.

“We shouldn’t talk about it in public,” Ciri looked around them, she knew Aleksander knew about whatever magic resided in her, he’d be a terrible mage if he didn’t. “I try not to use it, or think about it, unless I have no other choice.” But that kiss, and the rush of power that came with it… Ciri would be lying if she said she hadn’t been attracted to the man before the kiss, he was attractive and she was the furthest thing from blind, “I’m tired- we should find a place to sleep.”

There was much he still didn’t know about Ciri. Or rather, he had gathered quite a lot but needed confirmation. Her noble status obviously left her feeling like she’d never find a suitable man, because the choice must be a very good one, but just how noble was she? Surely there were plenty of lords eager to wed her and at leat one of them had to be suitable. “Never say never. You didn’t think you’d kiss anyone soon before we met, did you? Life is full of surprises.”

He shot the loud patrons around them a dismissive look. “They’re all drunk out of their minds. Nobody is listening. This is how most humans are. They don’t pay attention and they don’t open their eyes.” 

The people who he naturally considers more similar himself are other Grisha. They don’t live as long as he does, but they often live longer than non-Grisha and they understand the very satisfying feeling of the aforementioned power rush. They also understand prosecution by non-Grisha. And while some of them fear him, some of them appreciate him. Even so, they all die too, eventually, and while he has a personal attachment to them, and genuine affection, he doesn’t consider them his equal either.

She watched him silently, hand going to her dagger the moment his vanished, though as he spoke she didn’t move her hand away. Ciri wasn’t stupid enough to use her magic, but she also wasn’t sure if her combat skills would also be enough should the man- her savior, decide to suddenly attack.

Looking at the satchel she slowly loosened her grip, but kept her hand near the hilt of the dagger just in case for a few moments longer as she listened to his request before dropping her hand entirely and nodding. “If we happen to head in the same direction I suppose I cannot help that,” though if she happened to finally find Geralt on that path the man may be in danger, but he was also right. She’d heard about the town they’d be heading into, and she was told to stay away from it. Poor Geralt, she should know by now the girl rarely listened to him.

“I’ve been cut worse, but alright. Make it quick.”

Healing was not exactly his forte. Healing others, that is. He moved closer and sat on the stump of a tree. The familiar scent of the herbs tickled his nose when he opened the satchel and showed the insides to Ciri. “Very crude but effective..for most injuries.” 

He took a few of the leaves and rubbed them between his gloved palms until the scent grew in intensity and they were nothing but a green paste. He reached out to show her the result and to give her a moment to prepare herself. Touching people out of the blue was unwise, especially when they feared and distrusted him. After a moment, he spread some on the cuts on her face and murmured in Elder. 

Though she wouldn’t admit it if ever asked, it was difficult for her to catch her breath. Ciri wasn’t sure if that was from the kiss or what she had felt during it. It felt dangerously close to how she did when she had split the earth and cracked the monoliths- she had to be careful though. That was not something that could ever happen again. “Oh, they’re supposed to be longer? Sorry, I didn’t…” Know

She remembered when Eskel had brought some…women up to Kaer Morhen when she had first arrived there, and they were making out, but those definitely weren’t first kisses. Ciri has never actually witnessed anyone’s first kiss if she thought about it, how was she supposed to know how long it lasted? Was she supposed to ask Geralt? The thought nearly made her laugh. “Was it that long ago?” Aleksander hadn’t seemed much older than Jaskier, maybe even the same age. “Or was it just very unmemorable?”

The corners of his mouth turned up faintly. “You have a talent for worrying about things that truly warrant no worry.” Maybe that was a bit unfair though, it was in everyone’s nature to be uncertain when doing things for the first time. He just hadn’t done many things for the first time in a long while. “They’re not supposed to be ‘anything’, Ciri. They take as long as they take and if both people liked it, then it’s considered a success.” 

Of course in Aleksander’s case, he can never truly tell whether a person is actually attracted to him or just high on the amplified rush his touch bestows them with. He didn’t blame Ciri for the flicker of greed in those green eyes. Aleksander was the same. He had also seen fear and worry replace Ciri’s feeling of appreciation for herself. “Don’t overthink it too much, is all I’m saying.” He took another swig of this awful brew. “It’s both. I’m older than I look and the person I shared my first kiss with was insubstantial.” The person was nothing but dust now, and the memory so faint, the person may as well have never existed.

It wasn’t entirely intentional to get this much attention, in all honestly Ciri had asked one of the women what the plant meant when Aleksander was turned and it seemed like the perfect opportunity for a first kiss- more so to get it done and over with if anything. Having Geralt or even Jaskier, Yennifer or one of the other witchers around her made for few chances for any sort of relationship. She was a few months off of twenty now and her lack of experience was entirely embarrassing.

But now she was drowning in the mess she created, and Ciri never thought she would be so grateful for near giant of a man to take up her space, his darkness cloaking over her as the woman clung to his hand, letting him drag her out of the mess. “Curious, not desperate.” Ciri corrected with a glare in her saviors direction, though her eyes were quick to soften as her brows pulled together in confusion with his next words. Her eyes widened at the unexpected contact, freezing for a moment before the power rush took over and her bright eyes shut, letting it wash over her and tilting her head slightly- she wanted more of this feeling. This feeling that was thanks to Aleksander.

Aleksander. 

Despite wanting to continue their little display, and keep up the rush within in, Ciri’s eyes flew open and she pulled back rather quickly a deep blush working it’s way up her neck and into her cheeks. Clearing her throat, Ciri turned to look around the room, had he been an option from the start Ciri wasn’t sure she would have asked him- a stranger seemed easier. She wouldn’t have to travel with a stranger, she wouldn’t have to see them again. “Not terrible for a first kiss.”

For a moment, he too is drunk on this feeling of power. It felt as if he could move the earth if he wanted to, crack entire cities and turn them to dust. He felt Ciri’s might and her want. It was obvious that she wanted more of this. Understandable, this was her power. Her magic. What she could do to this world if she wanted to. If the stars aligned. It was thanks to centuries of experience and self-restraint that Aleksander had the ability to let Ciri end the contact so elegantly. He couldn’t think of anyone who felt this magnificent and harbored this much power.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had spent winter celebrations in some random tavern of a random human village. There were drunk idiots about, roaring songs, drinking even more. It hadn’t taken Aleksander long to figure out their customs. Whoever passed the mistletoe in close proximity with someone else, kissed them. Of course all these male cowards made sure to only ‘accidentally’ stumble beneath one if a woman was around. The custom was mysteriously absent whenever two men passed beneath one.

Leave it to Ciri to either be completely oblivious to this tradition, or to have some kind of ulterior motive. She stood beneath one of those pesky plants and Aleksander watched in great amusement how many men came skittering like rats. He was interested to see whether she’d actually kiss one of these fools or whether she was going to send them away. However, she probably didn’t expect for so many to come.

When she was swarmed, he decided to be merciful. Precious Ciri was a marvel in battle but she had still only become an adult woman very recently. The sheltered life she must have lived (he had his suspicions), did nothing to teach her how to get rid of men overstepping boundaries because someone must have always protected her. He towered over all of them as he stepped into her personal space. He knew the villagers feared and distrusted him, so they made way. They’d be stupid not to. He took Ciri’s hand into his own gloved one and lead her over to a bench where they could sit.

The Feast of Sankt Nikolai was in full swing in the Little Palace and so far Aleksander had just enjoyed watching his Grisha. They laughed, ate, played together by the fires. Those who came back from their sleigh rides had red noses and cheeks. The air was so full of careless joy that even Aleksander couldn’t help but to feel more relaxed than he had in a long time.

It was this interested observation of his, that distracted him from the mistletoe right above his head. Only when Zoya came to stand in front of him, an amused expression on her face, did he notice. Dark eyes followed her gaze up above. Ah. Of course Zoya would be brave enough to even approach him like this. Surely she hadn’t been the first person to realise that Aleksander was standing right beneath a mistletoe, but she was the first one to seize the opportunity. He wanted to reward her for this courage and display of strength. Beautiful, powerful Zoya. The personification of what a Grisha is supposed to be.