Chapter Text
Yen would most certainly call her a sap, or worse, but Triss likes all the other sorceresses. – Maybe her relationship with Yen is a little strained at times. But not because of Geralt thing. Stop implying that! – Yennefer is her best friend, has been for a long time, and Keira is fun, Margarita and Tissaia are wise, and they all are powerful, but somehow Philippa of all the sorceresses in the world is the one that somehow manages to always be there; To always come back. Triss has for the longest time tried to figure out why. Sure, they are kind of friends, sometimes even good ones, and sure, she is by virtue of being a sorceress, also exceptionally beautiful, if she may say so herself, but that’s not it. There is nothing between them. Why would there be? She’s pretty sure Philippa is incapable of seeing her that way. And why would she, through the myriad women –And Dijkstra. The thought makes her shudder the most.– coming and going in her champers?
No. There is nothing between them. Yet, sometimes she is just there. Inexplicably, mysteriously.
They know each other for a while, and Philippa must really like her, because she is the only one she ever bothers to share a room with when space is at a premium, instead of getting into a screaming match with Yen about it. Hence Triss knows for a fact there is nothing between them. Because Pippa is Pippa, always straight forward, loud, waspish at times. She certainly never beats around the bush, even as she hides her most grim thoughts behind perfectly deadly smiles.
Triss always likes spending these evenings with the other sorceress. – Lodged in a corner of a courtyard or a bench in a pleasance, Philippa running her newest plan for world domination by Triss. You would be forgiven to think it hyperbole, but believe her it isn’t.
And that’s fine; Totally fine. At times it feels like Philippa is the only person to not patronize her. And more strangely, she is the only person Philippa isn’t condescending towards every other sentence. And that makes her feel kind of good about herself. Well, she does in general, obviously, but sorceresses are by necessity transactional beings, so it also makes her feel a little special.
But then Sodden happens. Many lives lost, including her own, for a time. Or at least that’s what they think.
She wakes up in an infirmary, and Philippa is there, sitting by her bedside, all day long, every day, for many days, the dark abyss of her eyes patiently watching over her, until she eventually recognizes herself in a mirror again, with curly hair and freckled cheek. Yet the scar stays, and her eyes lose their fire for a while though. So she is told.
And that’s where it begins, truly.
She is in Vizima, in her tenement in the Royal Quarter. It’s two stories of a small building, wedged in between two luxurious shops. It borders a small park, if you could call it that, more like a very well maintained flower bed with a small square and a bench in the middle. But it’s open and has a balcony. Besides attending Foltest’s council, which she gladly does, if only for the distraction, she spends her days reading in seclusion, or taking a nightly walk around town. She knows this kind of trauma can in one way or another play tricks on the mind, letting her feel things she is not supposed to. But she does regardless, and it’s wearing her down. Slowly, deliberately, almost. Keira is there, of course, but she fades in and out of court to wander the world. At first Sabrina and Yen come to visit, but they have important business to attend to too, –She is not faulting them.– so they come less and less often, till it’s been a year since Sodden and no one comes.
– Until it knocks on her door. Triss, suddenly pulled from her slumber, throws an empty wine bottle to the ground as she jerks awake. It’s not good. She knows. But oftentimes it helps to sooth her mind, if only for a good night's almost undisturbed sleep. She almost trips and falls over a box of her own possessions she didn’t get around to unpack after taking up quarters here, has to steady herself on the door fitting, before pulling it open ajar.
“Hello.” Philippa says, like it’s the most natural thing for her to just be there in the middle of the night, in a country not her own, in front of Triss’ door.
Triss looks around, frowning a little, on the other side of the street someone extinguishes a light, the sudden change of brightness behind the other woman setting her off for a moment. At first, drowsy glance, she almost doesn’t recognize her. The raven haired woman isn’t wearing a dress or the likes, but a pair of ankle banded trousers, streaked in red and black like her favorite dress, a pair of half-boots, and what looks like the top half of one of her dresses, raven black, open shouldered, with elegant sleeves, long enough to almost cover her thighs, slit on both sides and adorned with the feathers of an owl. A large belt around her waist holds a large leather saddle pouch half way around her back, and she has done the thing with her hair, that makes it look a good measure shorter than it actually is, gathered in a messy updo. Triss forgets to breathe for a moment.
Philippa’s brilliant dark eyes fix Triss with a challenging look as the golden shine of magic dances along the edges her pupils, an eyebrow raised, as the brunette sorceress blinks slowly at the sight, but gives in to the unwitting urge to adjust the collar of her blouse the better cover the scar clearly visible under the fabric.
“ Uh . Hello...” she says eventually, and somehow has the presence of mind to take a step aside, because she is unsure whether Philippa would actually have shoved her out of the way if she didn’t, as she steps inside, an unreadable expression on her face, completely self-possessed as usual.
“You didn’t answer my last letter, so I thought I would come visit. See how you are doing in your new accommodations.” she simply states, taking a look around the room. If she takes offense in the messiness she doesn’t show it. Instead she turns towards Triss again after a few steps, regarding her with a neutral look that misses even the slightest hint of the overt pity the others look at her with when they found the state the space was in.
“I… have been quite busy.” She lies, flimsily, still trying to figure out the reason for Philippa's visit. After all there is always a reason. Purpose. Philippa does nothing without purpose. The more self-serving the better.
“Yes.” Philippa strangely agrees with a certain sense of wisdom in her voice that’s completely beyond Triss, seeing as it was but a self-serving declaration, without so much as an ounce of truth to it.
“Do you need help getting settled then?” The taller woman follows up almost warmly, and there is strangely no sarcasm in her voice, prompting Triss to tilt her head questioningly.
“I suppose, I do?” she replies, briefly considering that she has gone completely mad and is hallucinating all of this, because if she didn’t knew better, Philippa Eilhart just offered to help her clean her quarters and unpack her library late at night, all while apparently having discovered the concept of comfortable clothes all of the sudden. – And looking absolutely, positively, perfectly stunning in them. “But surely you have more important matters to attend to.”
At that Philippa shoots her an offended look, like the statement was the most profound insult that has ever been directed at her. A moment later she makes a dismissive gesture with her hand and her features soften again.
“Nonsense.” she iterates, picking up a book from one of the boxes and demonstratively raffling through the pages, for emphasis. “Let me help you.”
Triss frowns at that, taking a look around the room. Even in the half dark it is a mess of empty bottles on empty shelves, and scattered books and tools she has left where she used them. She supposes she actually needs a little help.
In an unexpected, yet somewhat ironic turn of events, Philippa doesn’t let Triss help, every time she gets up to pick up a book or some go wash the dishes, shoving her back if a light touch of telekinesis without even looking at her, while the majority of her possessions dance through the air in neatly arranged queues to literally magically find their place on one of the shelves and drawers, until early in the morning, when she suggests they take a break, and instead a stern look from Philippa later, is relegated to her bedroom, because she ‘is surely tired’ and ‘it still might take a while’. Triss tries to give her a look of protest, annoyed with the way she gets patronized into going to bed inside her own home, but quickly relents, as she really is too tired to argue with Pippa. At least effectively , that is.
Triss wakes late in the morning after an undisturbed, dreamless, and surprisingly restful sleep. She thinks she doesn’t remember when was the last time this has happened since Sodden. When her eyes blink open her quarters are completely quiet, save for the unperturbed chirping of a bird outside her window. She doesn’t remember leaving it open to begin with though.
She slowly shuffles into her living space, indeed finding it completely clean and all her things in perfect order around it. She frowns a little at the unfamiliarity pristine state of her surroundings, especially a vase filled with an assortment of her favorite flowers, but makes her way downstairs. The other sorceress is already, or still, depending on your perspective, sitting at the small dinner table near the window downstairs, a steaming cup of what Triss must assume is tea resting on the sill next to her, a large book on the table her bare legs are comfortably tucked under, as she apparently got rid of her pants some time during the morning. Her untamed long dark hair is hanging loosely over her back and down the sides of her head. Triss’ eyes rest briefly on the soft, bronze skin, eventually trailing up her form until they find the hem of her shirt and quickly bounce up to her face again.
“Philippa.” her voice greets in a rather undignified squeak as she gets closer, and the other woman slowly lifts her gaze from the paper in front of her. Again the brunette’s hands spring up, this time adjusting her shift around her clavicles.
“Good morning.” the older sorceress says almost brightly, considering her usually more reserved demeanor, and takes a moment to actually turn to face her, instead opting to take another very deliberate sip from her tea.
“I… did you stay up all night cleaning?” Triss inquires hesitantly, in lieu of anything else to say.
“Of course not. That would be ridiculous.” a smile dances across Philippa’s lips for the briefest moment, but they don’t part, and Triss can’t be sure she didn’t just do that.
“I didn’t hear you leaving… did you...” Triss feels her way forward.
“Your armchair is quite comfortable.” Philippa informs her, before emptying her tea.
“Thank you for helping with the...” Triss begins sheepishly, but stops and instead vaguely gestures at her surroundings with both hands.
“You are welcome.” The raven haired woman smirks at the sight, then narrows her eyes. “Now that you are awake, and had a chance to thank me for unpacking your households–” she wiggles her fingers in the general direction of the large bookcases in a magical gesture. “–I am going to proceed with my actual order of business. I just wanted to see how you were doing.” she informs her naturally, as if that’s something Philippa Eilhart just does. Inquiring how Triss was doing and spending a night cleaning her quarters. Of course!
“I… we could get breakfast if you want. There is a confectioner in the Royal Quarter, not that far away.” Triss says quasi reflexively. She’s almost surprised by the words herself. Maybe she is just relieved to see one of her friends again after such a long time in partly self-imposed isolation.
A painfully long moment goes by as Philippa raises an eyebrow at her, probably an appropriate reaction, and Triss can feel warmth rise to her face.
“I think I’ll have to stave you off on that.” the other sorceress replies politely, but if there is any negative connotation in the notion, she hides it well. “I am meeting a very important associate of mine very shortly.” she explains. There it is. You are not going to have Foltest assassinated, do you?
“Oh. Very well then.” Triss exhales slowly. Why does she feel so disappointed about this all of the sudden? – And dumb for asking.
“A cup of tea perhaps?” Philippa concedes, seeing the thinly veiled sadness spread on the other sorceress’s face and before Triss can answer, begins picking an assortment of dried leaves from a small pouch and dispersing them into two new cups.
“ Uh-Huh . Triss agrees quickly, and is about to begin heating the kettle with her bare hands when Philippa shoots her a look that can only be described as offended, and takes it from her, with a barely visible lightning bolt springing from her finger lighting the tea stove Triss didn’t even know she possessed.
They spend the better part of an hour talking, mostly about meaningless irrelevancies and the weather. Triss can’t help but wonder tho, what is so different about this then simply going for a breakfast.
“I will take you up on that offer.” After a long pause Philippa eventually announces with a self-confidence that only she and Yen, and Tissaia on a good day, can have, gingerly places her hand on Triss’ for a second and gently squeezing it, then gets up from her seat, quickly rummaging through her bag, and procuring a very fine white dress, adorned with an almost impossible amount of owl feathers.
Although Triss’ mind is still hung up on the whole holding her hand and being all sweet and understanding part.
They trade a few more words, mostly pleasantries and some more of Triss thanking Philippa for helping, while the other sorceress gathers the rest of her clothes from where she has spent the night. Triss doesn’t even notice she is practically waddling after her.
“Do you mind?” Philippa raises another eyebrow when they reach the top of the stairs and Triss’ eyes keep resting on her as she undoes her shirt, concealed from the eyes of passersby. The brunette sorceress has only followed her voice while she was talking, and one thing led to another and now she is still looking at Philippa, and if she doesn’t turn around soon this is going to be awkward.
“Oh, of course. I am sorry. I didn’t mean...” Triss justifies meekly and quickly makes her way back down. Backwards , because of course she does, and when she reaches the ground floor again, she spins around awkwardly .
“Triss.” Philippa says softly, uncharacteristically warmly again, as they meet one final time at the door, doesn’t even mention it. “Take good care of yourself?” She then requests seriously. “And don’t forget about breakfast.” she adds with a little smirk on her face. Regal and confident.
And just like that she is gone again, leaving Triss flabbergasted and a little confused. But for the first time in forever she unconsciously smiles and the weight of the scar on her mind doesn’t feel that heavy for a moment.