The Flight of the Swallow: Reconciliation
CHAPTER 1
Revelation
That afternoon in the port began to empty of people, merchants, boatmen and fishermen. The smell of fish and humidity, prevailed before the hours of trade had already ended. By the time Ciri finished his contract with one of the man who live in that port, it had already gotten dark. Although the port was a busy place, it looked calm, Ciri calmly walked around the place and decided to sit down to rest and put her feet in the water.
She spent a long time watching how the full moon was reflected in the water, how the waves made it formed with the movement of his feet; she played with the water and smiled at having finally finished her day as a Witcheress. That moment of peace and tranquility flooded her inside, with satisfaction and quiet joy. Despite the fact that sometimes she missed the presence of some of her friends or Geralt. She knew that walking the path was lonely and even boring sometimes. But there she was, alone and serene, enjoying her solitude.
In recent weeks she had strange thoughts and feelings, Ciri began to ask herself questions that she had not asked before. Questions that sometimes did not let her sleep, because of the anxiety of finding that answer and thus finding peace. She was a twenty-year-old girl, with questions that she kept inside her chest and that were waiting to be answered, maybe not the moment, maybe not even in those days or months. She longed to know what she would continue after finishing her contracts, go see her parents, visit her friends ... or put the swords aside for a while and settle down or have a boyfriend. On her travels she looked jealousy at the embraced and cramped women of their boyfriends or lovers. She began to wonder if that fate would be granted it too; or it was only for those "normal" people who did not possess talents or extraordinary magic, often this thought made Ciri very nostalgic and sad.
The silence of the port and Ciri's thoughts were interrupted when a barrel crashed to the ground. Ciri turned around and saw how a tiny woman, dealt with the little accident; she took her feet out of the water and drying them and put on her boots. She approached to the woman.
As she approached, she saw that it was a small hunchback old woman, carrying more barrels of wine on a mule and other trinkets. She was struck by the size of the old woman and her clothes, she looked ragged and black, disheveled and in a hurry. Its size made it more difficult to perform her task: if it was to load those barrels full of some valuable merchandise, it could take all night to place them on her cart.
"Hi, Can I help you old lady,? I see you need a good hand" - Ciri said with a kind and curious voice
The old woman kept cursing, she was trying to pick up the mess herself, and reacted awkwardly to the young woman's request.
"Oh! ... look what I've done, now I'ill have to charge less for such valuable merchandise." - The old woman answered without looking at Ciri.
"All right, creature, please help me to place the three remaining barrels into my cart, I cannot afford to lose more money for my clumsiness. "
Ciri helped and realized that those barrels were too heavy even for her, the damaged barrel smelled of wine and beer, a strange mixture that she could not recognize. Ciri thought that this old woman was a very unusual merchant to be able to transport such weight and merchandise. Ciri barely got two barrels into the cart, with one remaining on the ground. The old woman finished cleaning the remains of that barrel, and began to look at the young woman who had helped her. When the old woman looked at Ciri, her eyes lit up in the moonlight and she revealed her tired face and a big smile, a peculiar and unusual smile.
"Ahhh!… But if you are Zirae… .. Emm" the old woman cut off suddenly without finishing the sentence.
"You are the Witcheress Cirilla, right? ... "It's an Honor to have your precious help my Lady".
"Of course old woman, don't worry, I won't charge you for this" Ciri answered the old woman, somewhat intrigued because she was about to call her by one of her nicknames.
"No little creature, you deserve a reward and I will not miss your kind gesture, in helping this poor and clumsy old woman" the little old woman smiled, she looks a bit sinister. Ciri thought.
"Come creature, and uncover this last barrel and what you find inside, is your reward."
Ciri raised her eyebrow and wondered what she would do with all the wine or beer in the barrel. "I can't drag all this alone, by god and why do I want so much wine?" She thought. She opened the barrel and looked at the precious and expensive wine. She saw the reflection of the moon.
"Creature ... what's inside is your reward, look very well, little Creature, because there await your answers, the peace that your heart yearns for. " The old woman commented firmly
Ciri thought that the old woman had lost her composure over the situation; "What happens? She must be crazy or something." She told herself. But surprisingly, strange images began to appear on the surface of the wine, and the moonlight took the form of landscapes and people: A monolith was clearly formed, and a herd of unicorns, strange creatures, a black unicorn, a huge castle, rivers and bridges, the image changed abruptly and now formed people that she recognized immediately: Avallac'h, Auberon Muircetach, The Red Riders and the servants of elves.
"Tir ná Lia … Tir ná Lia and it's them!… But what does this mean?"… Ciri thought in amazement at what she was observing. Between the images of the elves and the places she recognized, in that instant the surface began to change again; Now images were shown with naked shapes and strange screams and moans, that was a dance of merely sexual images, she could not see the faces of those lovers, Ciri blushes when she sees a woman's hands caress someone's back.
That woman was passing with the tips of her fingers some strange tattoos, along the arms and well-formed pectorals of her lover, the lips of both were biting each other with great force, the hands and fingers were intertwined between them, her knees moved to his shoulders and those hips swaying in search of rhythm. The witcheress Cirilla put her hands to her face, so as not to see what made her red like a tomato, and she couldn't contain her curiosity to continue watching that act, which was reflected in the strange wine.
Those images made her more nervous because she was also listening to all that, it was as if she had sneaked into a brothel and looked from the other side of the lock, but it was clear that the images and sounds were too exaggerated to see from the window itself. Ciri's heart was beating a lot and she felt it was going out of place. For an instant, she wished she were in the bedroom with some local from her world, with some noble man from Toussaint, or a frenzied warrior from Skellige, she thought briefly and wistfully of Young Hjalmar an Craite, though not with much enthusiasm.
The images and exaggerated moans kept appearing, forming strange naked and obscene postures, like those found in books that offered reading in the same brothel, in well-detailed posters or pictures, or on the shelves that jealously guarded the most vain readers and hungry erotic.
Apparently those lovers had reached the climax since those images, became caresses, and subtle kisses and whispers ... the situation has already cooled down she thought. The surface of the enchanted wine began to shape those faces. She recognized the scars on the body, those ashen hair, breasts and hips… that scar on the face.
"It's me! ... Impossible! " - She finally exclaimed after having remained silent.
She saw herself, naked on a bed with some beautiful fabrics and very striking cushions with golden details and embroidery in fine threads. Perhaps a real bedroom ...She looked like one of those models painted by the masters of the canvas and the easel. A muse, prostrate with her arms above her head, and the ashen hair on her sweaty breasts, with a lost look of satisfaction and glory staring at her lover. This is how they are painted in Toussaint.
What would happen next would leave her stunned and frozen. Because the charm that so far had left her with that sexual act would end. From another perspective the image changed again.
She began to recognize her lover ... when he approached her, and let him see that he was huge compared to her, she looked tiny; the black locks began to brush over her agitated face, and the pointed ears came out, the triumphant smile of the elf lover, allowed to show along with those very white and small teeth.
That "sinister" smile she had seen before; but there was something different this time, he bit his lower lip wetting it, with the attitude of a hunter heading towards her prey. Those deep and cold green eyes threw a strong, seductive and challenging look, it was possible to distinguish a small light in that look and in those eyes. That in the past, they had caused her a strange fascination, excitement and fear when she saw them up close. The elf's features in this heated situation were intimidating and stood out in absolute beauty.
Ciri watched the inside of the barrel incredulously, she took her hands to her mouth, she began to vibrate like an extreme cold that penetrated to the marrow. Even her pink lips were also trembling, with fear or nervousness.
But there was no fear in that image, that revelation, that false Ciri also invited with a mischievous smile, pushing the black locks away from the elf's face and wrapping her arms around her lover's neck, and both were lost in a deep and warm kiss. Ironically the swallow and the sparrow-hawk flying together, devouring each other.
Suddenly the image disappears when the barrel fell to the ground. It spilled the wine along with a strange object that came out of its interior.
"Eredin! ... No ... No ... Not him! " She screamed terrified and shocked.
Ciri did not know how she could overturn that barrel wine, but her survival instinct did it, thing or perhaps the force of will gave her the necessary power to achieve it. She almost stumbled but managed to regain her balance. Started to cry.
"Oh creature, it's a destiny that if you want, you can take it ... people's hearts are like a canvas, they can be painted in such beautiful colors and shapes. If one wants there to be death, death will rule, if one wants there to be sadness, sadness will contemplate, if one wants to paint fear, fear will prevail. " The old woman said in a calm tone
"But ... Why doesn't anyone paint love anymore? " The old woman asked and also demanding.
"Instead of that ... The damned ignorant have in their palaces and estates! their stupid faces who proudly pose the flag they boast!, or worse still those obscene photos of them eating until they explode!, or of naked whores or shaking hands with his supposed allies or wives!. Bullshit! " the old woman said annoyed.
Ciri tried to calm herself by wiping her tears, watching as the old woman picked up the wine barrel from the floor.
"Don't cry little one, love is painted by the brave and with a big heart. Why don't you paint your own canvas Creature? asked the old woman.
"Sometimes you have to paint the hearts of stubborn and degenerates and sons of bitches and believe me, trash like them, they have a heart that needs to be painted". The little old woman finished.
Ciri watched as the old woman picked up the object, that had also come out of the wine barrel from the ground. She managed to see that it was a small round stone, it was divided into two parts in the shape of drops ... in one half the black color prevailed and the other half a white color, and within them the opposite colors on each side. It seemed that both colors were devouring each other.
The light and the dark ... the dark in the light. Ciri thought curiously.
The old woman turned to Ciri, stretched out her fragile hand, and handed the strange stone to Ciri as a gift.
"This yīnyáng will help you choose the color of your canvas, take it Creature. This symbol represents two opposite and complementary fundamental forces, it is attributed to everything that exists in the universes. The yin is the feminine principle, the earth, the darkness. Yang is the masculine principle, the sky, the light. Each being, object or thought has a complement on which it depends for its existence and which in turn exists within itself. Nothing exists in a pure state or in absolute stillness, but in a continuous transformation. Any idea can be seen as it's opposite if it is looked at from another point of view of course. Explain in detail the little old woman smiling at the end.
Ciri took the stone and her eyes shone as she observed the majesty of the stone, something inside her it's fascinated with the device. The old woman smiled and got on the cart, slowly walked away. By the time Ciri regained consciousness, she turned to see the old woman leave, but instead watched a herd of crows scatter across the night sky. Ciri was afraid of what that old woman might have actually been, since her wolf medallion did not react at all to the strange magic. The ashen-haired witcheress put the gadget in her back pocket and headed for town.
That night left her confused and melancholy. She just wanted to find a place to rest and hide her wet face in a pillow. And she was preparing for it.