#yennefer:threads

[burnnouts]

@osculumabmor liked this for a starter! (Geralt) Based on The Last Wish Quest - Witcher 3

On their search to find a Djinn, Yennefer had dragged them from the city to a tiny little boat out to sea and, for the first time in a long time, they were alone. It was quiet, peaceful almost--if she didn't stop to think about the reason they were here. She had dragged Geralt on this expedition the way she'd dragged him into most of her "projects"--by simply telling him what she planned to do and expecting him to follow along. That he had not denied her was, at least, a good sign that the years that had stretched between them and all that time away had not broken them completely.

They had had little time to talk since they'd reunited, what with the search for Ciri and the all-consuming threat of the Wild Hunt. Now, Yennefer leaned back against the bow of the fishing boat, her long legs stretched out in front of her, clad in black leather as always, black boots crossed at the ankle. She eyed Geralt silently, searching for new scars, searching his thoughts--though she knew by now how much he detested when she did that. She was far too proud to simply ask if he'd missed her, if he still loved her. While everything inside her ached, her outward expression remained haughty and unruffled.

"So," she prompted instead. "How was your time in the city? You survived the Novigrad guards, I see. And how was our dear Triss?"

[lcstorfound]

Location: Wellness World Closed Starter for @bcttcrthanrcvcnge (Yennefer and Kate)

"Welcome to Wellness World, where all of your ailments and petty problems can be cured with a simple bottle if you actually bother to read the label." Yennefer's word came out in monotone, and she did not bother to look up from the magazine she was reading. Sitting behind the cash register, she flipped the page with one hand, while with the other, she used a lazy momentum spell to close the door behind the customer, shutting off the annoying trill of the bell in the process.

[burnnouts]

No one can do everything.

Rationally, Yennefer understood the sentiment. She even believed it. That did not mean she had to like it. Asked once--in the midst of a terrible fight with a Djinn that had nearly leveled an entire city--what it was she wanted, what was so important that she would risk everything, Yen had replied, simply: everything. That had not changed. Over the years, she had learned to refine her wish list, to be more selective, more determined with what mattered the most. Becoming a mother had risen up that list until nothing else mattered quite as much. But that did not mean the other desires simply vanished. Yennefer still wanted everything, wanted to be capable of anything. The old wisdom that no one could be perfect at everything seemed to her the words of people who had not yet tried every avenue.

"We are all just trying to make it," she agreed. "Some--like you--simply do it better than others." Yen would not be shy about what she saw in front of her: a beautiful, capable, incredibly powerful woman. "I hope so." She was nervous; that she could admit to herself. Meeting Kings and Rulers meant little to her now--been there, done that--but meeting the grandmother of her child's mother? The grandmother of her--more than likely--wife to be? That was a very different risk, a different world waiting for on the other side of this boat trip.

Their relationship and the wellbeing of their future child was going to force a change in Yennefer. She was very used to getting what she wanted, when she wanted. She bossed Geralt around like it was her job--and sometimes, she thought it was. She believed, at times, that he--and everyone else--was better off when she told them exactly what to do. Because she knew better. Because her plans had a tendency of working--and a bad side effect of not being trusted. So she kept secrets. She worked silently behind the scenes. She gave orders and expected them to be obeyed without question.

But that was no way to raise a child.

Still, there was time left, months to ponder that dillema, to find a better way of...coping. Making it, as Beck had said.

"My, my, well aren't you impressive?" Yennefer's tone was both sultry, flirty, and genuinely impressed as she listened to the lore of shape shifting, how Beck could--yet again--do more than all the rest. She leaned back against the edge of the boat. She had noted Beck's reaction to being offered help of any sort but decided now was not the time to comment on it. Instead, she said, "I don't know how I'd feel. I can't imagine it: shape-shifting. My body has changed, yes,..." She let her voice trail away. Beck had not known her before the magic had shaped her, turned her into this inhumane, magical version of beautiful. "Yet, it has always been mine. Always this human form. You talk of shifting, and I think of werewolves and harpies, but you make it sound so graceful. Beautiful even." Would their child be a shifter too?

Yennefer glanced out over the water, at the banks beyond. Then she looked back to Beck. "What will your family think? Of you marrying a non-shifter? Has it happened before?"

It wasn't that she had a poor opinion of herself. On the contrary, she was prone toward vanity. It had been necessary to survive a youth filled with her mother's loathing and the whispers of her teachers and peers and priests whenever they glanced her way. Most people didn't matter; they didn't care about her, and in turn she didn't care about them (or at least she tried very hard not to). At the very least she certainly didn't care what they said.

No. It wasn't humility or an inability to accept her own prowess that made her uncomfortable. The concept itself just sat poorly with her. As a rule of thumb she was convinced that she wasn't any better than anyone, and they weren't any better than her. There were exceptions for truly despicable folk.

"I guess." She shrugged. "I can do things they can't. They can do things I can't. And no one can do everything. At the end of the day, we're all just people, and---misguided as they are---they are just trying to make it. Same as me. "

Her grandmother might have hit her for saying something like that out loud.

She let out a soft sigh, "You'll see eye to eye with my Mormor, I'm sure."

Maybe there was a time when the Fox Queen had been humble and warm, but life had stripped that from her. A war had cost her all of the family she'd had, and when she married and rebuilt that family, it had been ripped away from her as well. The death of her son by her husband's hand, the death of her daughter by her own, though for entirely different reasons, both incidents had scarred her. She held herself apart from people, and above them, as far as Beck could tell.

"It'll be fine. I'm sure." There was a little tick in her expression, easy to miss for the less observant. A slight wince that betrayed her discomfort. She trusted Yennefer, but she had never trusted medicine nor healers. Being sick was bad enough, but being seen while she was sick--accepting anyone's help--set her off terribly. Even the smell of medicinal potions sent her back to being a little girl on the edge of her dying father's bed.

"I hope you do... " She shook her head, mumbling quietly. "He's in need of a friend."

Beck leaned back and closed her eyes, listening to the gentle sound of water rushing against the boat. It really was a beautiful day. There was much to love in this place. She'd been fortunate enough to avoid the worst of this land across the sea. To her, this place was freedom. It was a shame her time here had been cut so short.

"We can all shift. It's the mark of our people. There are twenty one different clans of witches, all named after their sacred animal. My parents were married in an alliance between the Fox Clan and the Wolf Clan. I took the Fox upon my first shift. Fenris, the Wolf. You don't get to choose. It's passed down through the blood, and then one day, usually right after you turn six, you shift... but most witches only ever take the one other form. My ability to shift into many different creatures is fairly unique."

[burnnouts]

@fallesto continued from here

HOME WAS WHERE THE HEART WAS - It was a famed expression, one that maybe at one point in his time in this world held meaning and sense to him - but now - it meant little. He had no heart, he had no home, he had nothing now. Foolish wishes had brought him the wildest dreams beyond a mortal reach, but each one had come at a price - a price he had thought he was more than willing to pay. His brother’s life for riches beyond his wildest dreams, it was a heavy price, but one he paid and thus his brother had perished. It was always bound to happen, he was young and reckless and took too many chances, he was always destined to die young - why not benefit from it at least. Yet his second wish, that for immortality for him and his beloved - it was that wish that had made him what he was today and it was that wish that he cursed himself for ever making. “It is not as I remember --”  He cast his eyes on his home. It once was the talk of all kingdoms for its beauty and for the man that once lived there, but now it was nothing more than a ruin. At least the walls still remained high and the gate sealed. He walked around, viewing it with his own eyes for the first time in years as he spotted a breach in the wall - a heavy sigh escaped him, no matter what - there were always fools out there who lusted for wealth and gold - not knowing that this place - was locked for a reason. He climbed through, with ease - this was his home after all, he knew each stone as if it were his own child. His merry band of bandits remained behind, to bring them with him beyond this wall would be to doom them all to there graves. He jumped down, his feet hitting the ground with a light thud as he walked forward - the gardens - they were kept it seemed, well maintained - it seemed the spirits still did the tasks they were commanded to do as he looked down at the soil - freshly turned as well and more than that - near the flowers and bushes - freshly laid graves of foolish bandits - it was the sign he needed to see - there was darkness still here and with that darkness the woman he had doomed to this fate no doubt lingered. “I believe I have already overstayed my welcome.”

"If the doom of this place is your doing, surely you can be its resurrection." Yennefer looked quite unbothered as she stepped through the hole in the fence--more concerned about the mud on her boots than the prospect of angry spirits and cursed manors. Nor did she look back at the men Olgierd had left behind. That he wished to spare them what lie ahead was surely a poor omen, and yet, Yennefer simply thought it wise: humans were, after all, so terribly clumsy and difficult to keep alive.

She had heard stories of this place, of course. Anyone who'd been through the area had heard the rumors, the ghostly tales and the warnings. And Yennefer made it her business to know what was happening in every corner of the land, to seek out dangers before they found her, and to stay one step ahead of whatever local chaos might be brewing. Of course, she did not usually take the time to stop and fix these problems either. That was Geralt's job, not hers: to rid the world of curses and monsters in exchange for petty coin.

This place, however, had caught her attention for another reason. Perhaps she was a romantic underneath it all, swept up in the tale of an old love gone so wrong, or maybe she simply wished to set free the woman that was said to be stuck here. Or maybe she just saw it as a challenge.

"Come along." She snapped her fingers, gesturing Olgierd to follow as she strode forward, toward the front door of his old home. "Let's get this over with."

[burnnouts]

@aigisthosia liked this for a starter!

Yennefer was not in the habit of helping strangers. The way she saw it, you did what you had to in this dangerous and dark world, and that was that; survival often required sacrifice. She was on the hunt for her daughter, yet do to a reckless overuse of trackable magic, she was now being hunted herself by some of the most dangerous beings in all the land: hoards of elven warriors on skeleton horses, the ground turning to frost wherever their feet touched the ground. The Wild Hunt.

Not so long ago, Yen had lived in castles, serving kings and collecting fine jewels and gowns. Now, she was camped out under a willow tree, using her own black and white cloak as a sort of tent before the rain began. And the Wild Hunt was not the only threat to her, nor the only reason she was now on the run. She watched from the shade of the tree as the Witch Hunters went by, some on horseback, some walking in heavy armor. They had a look to them, each and every one, as if they smelled blood and wanted nothing more than to sink their teeth into their next victim. They were not likely to be real vampires, but they were just as ruthless, just as cruel.

Yen sighed and leaned her head back against the tree. There went any of her plans to make a fire by magic or summon food from the nearest village. Gritting her teeth, she was just about to rise and find some firewood the old fashioned way when her eyes caught on another traveler: a woman looking very out of place, and one that Yen could sense almost immediately what, luckily, the human witch hunters could not: an aura of magic--strong magic--surrounding her.

[burnnouts]

@maggicktouched said "Did you hear about the kidnapping in Belhaven?" Beck @ Yennefer

"Hmm?" Yennefer placed her bookmark within the long tome she'd been studying and looked up. "No, I did not. What's happened?"

[lcstorfound]

"Fathers do have a frustrating way of ruining everything, don't they?" Yennefer smiled darkly, thinking of her own father--something she rarely allowed herself to do. The man had been cruel and as far as Yennefer was concerned, did not deserve any of her time or energy. "It seems you are more powerful than you give yourself credit for. To have a voice in this world--or any--is very powerful indeed. To make people listen is no easy feat." She leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs. "And this first love, where are they now? Time lost means very little, in the end. I've gone decades without seeing my love, and when we're back together, it's like no time at all has passed."

a small smile graced her lips. "once upon a time i was." alicent replied. "i'm not so powerful here - all i have is my voice and the ability to help others who might not have the ability to share their struggles." the brunette replied, shrugging. "i think there is power in being there for others who cannot advocate for themselves." she swallowed thickly. "i think i want the chance to see myself how i wish to be seen first - in a weird way i wish i was but a young adult again, that without my father influence that i might have the ability to chase my first love rather than being forced to run in the opposite direction."

[burnnouts]

@starwrittenfates liked this for a starter! (Ciri)

"Keep your hood up." Yennefer spoke with a mother's bark, her voice weary and on edge as she pulled the hood of Ciri's cloak up and over her tell-tale ashen hair. She herself was dressed--as always--in black but with a hood to shield her own raven locks, violet eyes kept low so as not to raise suspicion. They had finally found Ciri--she and Geralt working in harmony--and, most fortunately, located her before the Wild Hunt could. Yet, the danger was far from over.

They were exposed in Novigrad. A hundred pairs of eyes in every direction, potential spies and enemies all of them. Yet, Yennefer needed to meet a source, one who might help her to free the other sorceress imprisoned in the city. With all that magic at their command, they might actually stand a chance when the Wild Hunt next attacked. "Stay by my side. Do not talk to anyone. Do you understand me?"

[burnnouts]

@fereldensheroes liked this post for a starter from Yennefer

"So this is the place." Yennefer clicked her tongue as she stepped further inside, her hand sliding over the newly painted walls. "My, my, Our little bard, an entrepreneur. You really are all grown up now, aren't you?" Yen had never been the type to dole out compliments--her praise was rare and shelled out in small doses, as if too much joy and fuzzy feelings might strip the words of all meaning. But she was proud of Jaskier, and her deep violet eyes shone with something that might have been affection. The Chameleon was thriving--and, what was more, it was classy. There was a feeling of true culture about it, a place where she could imagine artists thriving, rather than simply a place of carnal pleasures--not that Yennefer would have taken issue with such a place either. She was no blushing bride, after all.

"So when does the show begin? I have been itching to see what you've come up with."

[burnnouts]

It was unlikely that Geralt would be able to stand by and watch Ciri fight a beast on her own. Yennefer was sure he would try, of course. He believed in her skill--he was the one who trained her, after all. He wanted as much as she did to see their daughter defend herself, to encourage her independence and strength. Yet, he hardly knew how to stand by and let others do the fighting for him. Yennefer was, perhaps, more practiced in this regard. She had frequently let Geralt deal with whatever monster or curse lay in front of them. She could interfere, of course, could cast a spell to aid him, but she had enjoyed watching him work and knew he liked to feel useful. That, and she trusted he could deal with it without her interference.

Yet, Ciri was a different matter all together. Yennefer trusted her, yes. Believed in her, absolutely. But could she truly stand by while the girl was in danger, no matter how equipped she might be to handle it?

At the idea of Geralt knowing about the plan, Yennfer gave a dismissive wave of her hand. In other words: no, she had not asked him. "Geralt is always prepared for an adventure. Besides, it will be good for him to get out and about. All he's done for weeks is clear giant, spitting bugs from caves."

A smile came to the witcheress face at seeing how much her mother missed her and how right she had been with realizing that Yennefer was starting to get restless. Ciri thought on the matter, just imagining her parents standing off to the side while she battled against a beast, cheering her on or trying to tell her how to defeat it.

It would be a bit strange, but at the same time she couldn't just ignore the request if it was what they wanted. Besides, she did miss them.

"I'm sure it would be okay as long as it's for moral support. Is Geralt alright with this? Does he even know?"

[burnnouts]

“And that frightened child became a strong warrior because of you, Geralt.” Yennefer squeezed his arm. She understood how he felt; her own feelings toward their adopted daughter were anything but rational. The girl drew from her a fierce protective instinct that was difficult to contain, and no matter how logical she attempted to approach a situation, where Ciri was concerned she would burn the world down to protect her. “We’ve taught her well.” Yennefer with magic, Geralt in the ways of the Witchers. “I, too, wish I could wrap her in my arms and protect her from all harm. I would if I could.” It was hard not to think of Ciri as the young, scared child she’d once been. “But you taught her to defend herself, to fight fiercely. And with that comes a certain…temperament she gets from us both, I’m afraid.” Yennefer, after all, was hardly known for being warm and polite.

“Of course not,” she agreed. Just a few days ago, Geralt himself had caught her with her ear to the door, spying on Ciri in a meeting, desperate as she had been to make sure everything went well and that Ciri was protected. Worry would be with them forever now. That was the lot of being a parent, she supposed. “But come.” She took his hand. “Let’s get your mind off it. I have other ideas of what we might do to pass the time.”

young  woman,  geralt  silently  mused.  the  words  felt  strange,  even  traveling  through  his  mind,  unsaid.  yennefer  was  right,  per  usual  —  he  had  to  admit  —  ciri  was  a  young  woman,  by  every  definition  of  the  word,  but  could  he  ever  truly  think  of  her  that  way?   ❝   seems  like  yesterday  she  was  just  a  frightened  child,  clinging  to  my  cloak  as  we  rode  up  to  kaer  morhen  all  those  years  ago.   ❞   he  shook  his  head,  a  wave  of  nostalgia  washing  over  him.   ❝   time  flies,  yen.  they  grow  up  faster  than  we'd  like.   ❞

he  remembered  ciri  as  a  mischievous  child,  a  whirlwind  of  energy  and  curiosity.  now  …  she  was  a  young  woman,  forging  her  own  path,  facing  her  own  challenges. it  filled  him  with  a  strange  mix  of  pride  and  apprehension.  pride  in  the  woman  she  was  becoming,  apprehension  at  the  dangers  that  lurked  in  the  shadows.

❝   you're  right,   ❞   geralt  said  then,  his  voice  softening.   ❝   she's  strong,  ciri.  independent.  she'll  find  her  way.   ❞   he  reached  out,  his  hand  gently  brushing  against  yennefer's  arm.   ❝   but  that  doesn't  mean  we  shouldn't worry."

[lcstorfound]

"My power?" Yennefer repeated. Geralt really had gone mad. Half in anger--but mostly just to prove her point--Yennefer let out a blast of magic, a wave of purple thrust into the air and pushing a space between them. She did not mean it to hurt him, did not even mean it to frighten him--if she had wanted that, she had far more dangerous spells at her disposal, never having been particularly bothered with things like magical 'rules' or 'decorum.' If it would help her to her ends--and that end being the protection of her family--Yennefer would gladly pursue any means of dark magic. For Ciri. "Does it appear that I need my powers back? If they are missing, that is news to me, Geralt." She clucked her tongue, annoyed. This was getting them nowhere. According to his own logic, she would simply have her powers back because she had traded Ciri in exchange for them.

"Well at least now we're getting somewhere," she mumbled as he accused her of being another Yennefer. Perhaps of this he was right. She searched through his mind, seeing familiar moments: the djinn, the wish, the dragon egg. But there were other moments she did not recognize, interactions between them that made no sense, recollections he held that she could not recall. "It appears you are right. I am not. We are not from the same timeline." She spoke very calmly, given that what she was saying should have been mad. "Ciri has opened portals to different realms and worlds before. Perhaps this is one of them. Perhaps we both exist in worlds nearly identical--except for a few key details. Somehow, we have crossed in this place." Her heart leapt with hope: did that mean Ciri was nearby, that she had opened this portal that led them both here?

Geralt's eyes narrowed as Yennefer began to tell him the last time she saw Ciri - none of it made sense. Who was The Wild Hunt, was that who Yennefer promised Ciri to? "Why should I believe you? You need her for the exchange of your power back. For all I know you have already traded her in, sent her to her death all for your own selfish gain." Anger raged back through the Witcher as the thought of being too late. Not protecting those he cared about wasn't something that Geralt dealt with easily. His fingers twitched around the hilt of the long sword, gripping the fabric tightly once again. Geralt so badly wanted to believe her, to believe that the woman he loved wouldn't ever hurt the one other person he cared about. Prior to this, Yennefer had no idea that Ciri was even with him, but the White Wolf that was no excuse.

The more that Geralt looked at Yennefer the more he began to sense that something was off. She was his Yennefer, but there was a gut feeling that in reality, she wasn't. All his senses were now screaming at him that this wasn't what he thought, that something wasn't right. "You are not my Yen, who are you?" Geralt questioned randomly with yet another low growl. While he kept the sword away from her neck, he held it up almost like a threat.

[lcstorfound]

"I was not aware you were dying, Dear. Would you have liked me to hold your hand and walk you through the process of finding a cramp reliever? I simply thought you could handle it yourself." Despite her words, Yennefer's mouth twitched in a sort of smile. The woman had spunk; she had to give her that. Nodding at the request, Yennefer bagged up both bottles. "Thirty dollars," she said, still getting used to the sound of that currency--dollars--on her lips. "Customer service is not my speciality," she admitted, frowning. She did not like to admit that she was ill-skilled at anything--even when it was abundantly obvious. "I...apologize if I have come across as brash. I have been told I could due to be nicer to customers. And you are not completely terrible. In fact, you seem quiet intelligent." It was as much a compliment as Yennefer knew how to give.

"And here I was thinking that my bedside manner was poor," Kate muttered, "Not a single aspect of my question implied that I thought it was nefarious. I am not from a place that has magic, forgive me for being wary of it," she replied with equal sarcasm that the other had sent her way, "I will take both, I suppose. It is better than having nothing."

[burnnouts]

There was something more here, something unspoken that flowed between the family lines, a heavy sort of sorrow burrowed deep into the roots of Beck's ancestry. Perhaps one day, such things would concern Yennefer--if it brought into question the health of her child, for instance, or when she became, at least by marriage, a part of this kin. But for now, it was not her business, and she saw no purpose in poking old wounds when there were more important matters at hand. Yennefer was a curious woman--often to a fault, her appreciation of knowledge often outweighing her care for social etiquette--but she also knew when to hold her tongue.

She did, however, wait to see if there would be fallout from her answer. Of course, the wisest option would be to lie, to say all the pretty little words people--and especially parents--wanted to hear. But what use were those lies? Yennefer wanted very much for Beck's family to like her, but she would not make it so by sacrificing her true character. When, instead, the woman simply thanked her for her honesty and continued with her speech, Yennefer carefully hid the relief from her own expression.

She listened carefully, but it was a moment before she realized who the woman was talking about. Context clues made it easy enough to decipher, but that did not answer why Alma had called Beck by another name. "Dolly?" she repeated. "I have not heard her use this name. But very well, I am listening." Her tongue pressed between her lips. She was on the verge of insisting that Beck would be taken care of, of protesting the very idea that she, Yennefer, would not be able to spot Beck's suffering. But she knew the truth before she could speak it: she did not know Beck well enough yet to see through her masks, and if the cost of Yennefer's ignorance was the life of her child and its mother, she was better to keep quiet and listen.

"I will do everything in my power to make sure Beck makes it safely back home and that she and the child are cared for. If there is anything you can tell me to aid her, I welcome the advice," she said, diplomatically. The words did not fit her lips particularly well, as if she was trying to speak a language she was not fluent in, but for once, she meant the sentiment.

Alma smiled and resisted the urge to flinch at those harmless words. They were idle flattery, she knew, not an attempt to stick a knife into a painful subject. Was she responsible for the woman her granddaughter had become? If she had been, she was blind to that influence. The way her devotion, her kindness, her gentle understanding had embedded itself into the mind of her sweet Dolly was lost on her. She could only remember her own grief, and how falling prey to it had left her grandchildren defenseless and alone in the clutches of a monster.

"I appreciate your honesty." It was the nicest thing she could think to say to Yennefer given her response. Alma had been born a highborn lady and upon her marriage, she was named a queen. It wasn't often she was denied anything. Especially not when she deemed it important.

"I'm a bit worried, you see. Dolly is awfully far from home, and women in our family have a history of fragile health during pregnancy. She's got a smile brighter than a phoenix feather, but she wears it like a suit of armor. I worry she might not be entirely---honest if she's experiencing discomfort. I thought I might offer some insight on her--hm--condition, and how it might affect her during pregnancy, and you might be able to help me keep an eye out for her until she can get home."

[lcstorfound]

Yennefer sighed wearily. "Very well," she agreed. "How many people die, daily, do you think, while you wait to ask people in your little chain of command?" She sounded calm enough, simply curious as she looked around the hospital and at all the full beds and talkers running frantically to and fro. "What is your position exactly?"

jo paused as she watched the purple light swirl from the others finger towards the bed, a shocked expression on her face. "even if i knew what you just did - which i dont." she swallowed nervously, shaking her head. "the decision is not mine to make - you would need to book a meeting with the head of surgery, a position way above mine."

[burnnouts]

For several moments, Yennefer was silent. Occasionally, she would tap her wand against her thigh, causing it to spark in shades of violet and blue. Otherwise, she crossed her arms and stayed still as a statue, staring off into the dark shadows of the approaching hallways, listening intently for sounds of Peeve’s tell-tale laugh or annoying sing-song voice, waiting for the whiff of a stink bomb or flash of a firework bought from the Weasley Twins’ infernal shop. But all remained quiet, still.

At Theo’s words, something almost like a smile flickered across Yennefer’s haughty expression. When it had come to her attention that she would never be loved in this school—that her crooked spine and muggle heritage made her a piranha to all Slytherins, and her Slytherin-ness made her a piranha to the rest of the school—she had decided she would be feared instead. And the first step in being feared, beside amounting as much magical power as she possibly could, was to become unknowable. If no one knew her secrets, if no one knew what she held dear—and if she, in fact, held nothing dear at all—then they could not use this information against her, could not control her. It was a lonely life, hiding behind this wall of mystery, but it was her easiest path to survival.

“I do hate everyone in this wretched place,” she replied simply. “Well, almost everyone.” She did, indeed, hate most of them, detested several more, disliked a handful, and tolerated the rest. Theodora came in the last category. They had never been friends. She did not think they likely ever would be, nor did she believe she even wanted any friends. But they were not enemies, and it seemed that counted for more than she’d realized.

She took the handkerchief back, folded it, and placed it in the pocket of her robes. “Well, I suppose that’s that.” She turned, ready to leave—after all, the ‘threat’ (or worry of it) was over, and Theo seemed to have gotten herself together. But she paused. “For what it’s worth, for better or worse, you are more than you father’s daughter. Take it from someone whose father’s reputation…” Her lips pressed together. How could she possibly put into words the complicated nature of her parentage? How her father’s muggle blood had damned her in this school, and his violent nature had damned her in his home? “…is far from impeccable. Take from him what makes you strong, and create the rest for yourself. What anyone else has to say about the matter is none of their damn business.”

When Yennefer uttered the words, You are one of the few people in this foresaken hell hole I do not detest, Theo found herself caught even more off-guard that she had been by the other girl's initial presence. And when Yennefer followed up her statement by taking up the position of watchwitch with an explicit offer to hex anyone who intruded, Theo wasn't sure she'd ever been so thrown before in her entire life. Even that time back in her first year at Hogwarts, when Greg Goyle -- whom she'd barely even known but had internally dismissed as being in the same mold as Vincent Crabbe -- had asked her if she would help him with his homework and had then proceeded to actually make an effort rather than simply try to sponge off her, hadn't been as much of a surprise as Yennefer's words and actions today.

Because the thing was that, while Theo and Yennefer were always polite to each other and held no grudge between them, they had never been anything close to actual friends. They simply left each other alone, which, at least to Theo, wasn't any sort of particularly notable behavior; frankly, it was the dynamic Theo preferred with most of her fellow students. And yet Yennefer apparently found it notable enough that she was willing not only to confess to 'not detesting' Theo -- which Theo was perceptive enough to realize was probably as close to any sort of declaration of affection as Yennefer would ever come with anyone -- but also to defend Theo when she'd been found in a moment of vulnerability.

A faint pang of guilt managed to make itself heard through Theo's current frustration and misery, probably the the first real bit of empathy Theo had felt for anyone following her father's arrest and the miserable summer she'd spent with her estranged maternal relatives. And that was because, if Theo were to be truthful with herself, which she generally tried to be, she would have to admit that had their positions been reversed, she probably would have passed on by and pretended not to have seen Yennefer. Not out of malice, of course, but simply because she would have assumed that that was the best way to leave Yennefer's pride intact, and Yennefer had always seemed like a person who greatly valued her pride.

After another moment's hesitation, Theo picked up the handkerchief that had thus far lain ignored in her lap and made use of it, dabbing at her eyes, blowing her nose, and taking deep, careful breaths until her tears were under control. Once she'd reached something resembling an equilibrium, she cast the same sanitizing spell on the hanky that Yennefer had performed a few minutes prior; giving it back soiled, after all, would have been a poor repayment for Yennefer's unexpected...well, kindness, Theo supposed she should call it.

"I don't understand you," she said quietly, looking up at Yennefer's straight, stiff back, so different than it had looked five years ago when they'd met on their first night in the castle. "I thought you hated everyone in this wretched place. I mean, you're not the last person I would have expected to do this," -- that honor went jointly to the Weasley twins -- "but I'd still have put you in the lower fifty percent before today."