of_vengerberg | (no subject)

The thing about magic is that it's a matter of practice. Chaos might be in one's blood, might call to a source, but without practice, without teaching and control, a person is as like to go mad as become a mage. Yennefer knows what it is to practice magic, had worked at it for years at Aretuza and then for decades since. She's been wielding magic for nearly a century and yet Yennefer hasn't felt like this much of a novice since she was first taken by Tissaia as a scared and lost little girl.

For days she's been opening and closing portals all over the city, and yet that's the only place they take her. Time and time again she's conjured Kaer Morhen in her mind - crumbling walls and dreadful interior design and all - and created a portal, and time and time again she's stepped through only to find herself on the other side of this godforsaken city.

"Oh for fuck's sake--"

Yennefer closes the latest portal with a sharp flick of her wrist, her frustration brewing to boiling point. She's itching to take it out on someone - anyone will do - but more than that she just wants something to work. She should be able to portal out of here with her damn eyes closed; she's a revered sorceress, not a child playing at floating feathers. She's never wished so badly to see the inside of Kaer Morhen, grumbling witchers and all, but there's none in sight and no one here that's familiar. Hell, at this point she almost wishes to glimpse the Hunt. At least then there'd be some indication that she's not as far from home as she suspects, that despite what she's been told, there might still be a way back.

Yennefer can't think of much that she wouldn't do if it meant getting back to Ciri, and if it comes to it, she'll raze this city to the ground without a twinge of remorse. Even Geralt couldn't judge her for that, though he's as far away as the rest of them right now.

For now though, she needs a new strategy. Portals aren't cutting it and there's no illusion that she can dispel, only the infuriating knowledge of a magic she can't see or feel or reverse. First though, she needs a small break. An hour or so to regain her cool, or she's more like to blast a crater directly into the middle of the city rather than strategise a clear way out.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jim has found himself in intensely dire straits before, there's no question of that. How many times had the Enterprise landed on a planet void of lifeforms on the scanners, only to met with a nasty surprise once transported? How many times have Spock and Bones had to come to his aid because some being or another had deemed his death a necessity? How many years has he traveled through space, eager to explore and to learn, not just for his mission for Starfleet but for himself?

He finds no such excitement here. This place, this planet, whatever it is, makes him more than uneasy. For the first time in what must be decades, Jim feels well and truly helpless. He's tried using his comm to reach the Enterprise dozens of times a day since arriving, though he's come to expect nothing but silence in response. It's lonely here, unusual for him, for a man so typically prone to finding it like second nature to socialize. He's supposed to be able to adapt to his surroundings, that's always been part of his job as Captain; and yet, the question lies there, in the back of his mind, heavy and hindering: is he even a Captain anymore?

Has he lost command of his ship?

Will he ever see his crew again? His friends?

With a sigh heard only to himself, Jim reaches into his pocket for his comm yet again. He weaves through the crowd of people on the sidewalk, paying very little mind at all to his surroundings as he murmurs into the comm. "Kirk to Enterprise. Kirk to Enterprise, is anyone there? Kirk to--"

He manages to stop just short of knocking a woman, a beautiful woman, to the ground, reaching out to catch her by the wrist to keep her from stumbling. "I'm very sorry, miss, forgive me. Are you alright?"

She probably should have felt his presence, but she's blaming the distraction on this goddamn city. Maybe she would have noticed if she hadn't been preoccupied with being stuck in this place with no apparent way out, but as it is the man just narrowly misses knocking her, reaching out to catch her wrist with his fingers.

There are few back home who would dare, she thinks wryly as she turns to look at him. There's a venomous retort on her lips, ready to strike, but she reels it in at the last moment. Yennefer can appreciate a handsome face and for now at least, it's better to exercise a modicum of restraint. This is a strange place, she knows no one, and as much as Yennefer is well used to relying only on herself, even she can admit that occasionally an ally or two doesn't go astray.

At the least, perhaps he'll have information she can use.

"Yes, quite," she replies, flashing him a brief smile. It doesn't quite reach her eyes but she doesn't try very hard, either. She gives him a bit of a once over, hardly subtle about it, and crosses her arms across her chest. "I admit I'd be better if this city weren't so determined to keep me here despite my best efforts, but that's another matter entirely."

"Ah." Jim all but beams, resisting the urge to quirk a playful brow. "Then you're a victim of the city's whims, too. This isn't the first time I've been stranded in an unfamiliar place."

Amerind comes to mind; but then, so does Miramanee. Truth be told, Jim had managed to banish thoughts of her from his mind long ago but he feels an unexpected pang in his chest at the brief thought of her. He forces a smile, forces the memory of Miramanee back to the depths of his mind, and adopts a wry tone. "I will say I'm certain I've never been more eager to leave one."

He wonders now about this stranger's history, what world she's from and what she'd been doing there before finding herself stuck in a place that seems hellbent on keeping them here for a purpose that hasn't yet made itself known. "I'm James Kirk. Jim." Captain of the United Starship Enterprise, he nearly adds, but it hardly seems to matter here. "How long has it been since you arrived, if you don't mind the question?"

He holds himself with an air of confidence that Yennefer can appreciate, even as she wants to needle at it all at the same time. She's always enjoyed a man who knows himself, knows what he wants and has no qualms about making that known, but she enjoys picking them apart nearly as much. Geralt would grunt disapprovingly at her for thinking it, but for all that she's searched, he doesn't seem to be here.

"Yennefer," she introduces herself in turn, lifting her chin a little and returning his smile, less perfunctory this time. If nothing else, she agrees wholeheartedly with his short assessment of this place, though she's sure he has his own reasons for wishing to leave so desperately. "Of Vengerberg."

He won't have heard of it, won't have heard of her. No one she's met has, and it's both frustrating and a little freeing in equal measure. "A few days. Enough to learn that this place has no intention of letting us walk out without a fight, portals be damned."