#cryowitcher.

an echoing roar hits the back of clenched teeth, glinting silver blade raised high until it's swung down in one powerful, unforgiving swoop. the wyvern at her feet, previously squirming and screeching in its futile attempt to escape, begins to twitch and convulse violently in the throes of its agony. another swing, another grunt, and it stills. an eerie silence follows, ciri's shoulders just barely heaving as her hunched form straightens out, standing tall with her triumph.

one swift flick has the majority of the creatures ghastly blood splattering across the ground, a rag pulled from its placed tucked into her belt to wipe off the silver blade until she deems it clean enough to slip back into its scabbard. footsteps make her head perk, nose twitching with her quiet sniffs until a familiar scent causes her to turn.

previously surly expression faltering, her lips twitch into a smile at the figure approaching from the tree line. much like uncle vesemir, ciri regarded sera in a similar way — the woman having been present during her younger years training at kaer morhen. her boyish nature had made her standoffish at first, but after witnessing firsthand how badass she was? ciri had grown fond soon after.

" sera. " ciri breathes out, surprised, yet no less joyous, at the unexpected appearance. the last time they'd been in one another's company had been some months ago in nilfgaard: during her incredibly short reign as empress. it was a life that didn't suit her. it never would. her destiny had been set in stone even before her birth. a witcher she was born to be, so a witcher she will remain.