dressed elegantly. this will never leave my head. the implications of this.
because geralt and his company, they saddled up, left beauclair, travelled through mountains and frozen blizzards and downpours and muddy sod for two to three months. you need to pack outfits for that. you need to plan your gear.
what was the rest of the company wearing? what did they pack for this long journey? they packed practically, dressed warmly for the frozen journey of january, february, march. geralt wore a wolf-skin cloak, a scarf, a shawl… milva wore a fox-fur kalpak, angoulême wore a hat with a pompom and a sheepskin coat. cahir’s dress isn’t mentioned, but he must have been dressed similarly, because he rubs his hands briskly together and were he not dressed warmly he otherwise would have frozen to death. regis’ dress isn’t mentioned, but it is mentioned that he’s immune to the freezing temperature. so, i mean, it doesn’t matter what he’s wearing in this scene, maybe a regular outfit.
but at stygga. dressed elegantly.
so you’re telling me that. regis packed his things in preparation for their flight from beauclair, went to his quarters after geralt explained to him the satisfactory reasons they were leaving, and went,
“alright, time to prepare for this long and dangerous journey that will conclude in a great clash between our forces and the kidnappers of ciri. the end of our quest. the final journey. and a dangerous road awaits us, with snow still blocking the passes, frost and white all around. a grand fight and conflict awaits us. what gear should i prepare, what should i wear for this expedition, what kinds of clothing should i pack.”
and then he went:
“you know, i want to look fucking good ✨ when we get there 💅🏻🦇”
imagine the final preparation before they approach castle stygga. geralt sees the castle hewn out of the cliffside, effortlessly noticing every detail from far away, seeing like an eagle with his mutated eyes. and like an eagle, compelled to swoop down and snatch vilgefortz like a fish. ordering the company forward, declaring they’ve made it. this is the moment they have all been waiting for. everyone has been waiting such a long time for this. they prepared everything.
they wait until midnight. angoulême eagerly unsheathes and whets her long sabre, swings her axe around with predatory glee. cahir fits the plate armor and winged officer’s helmet he scavenged from a small nilfgaardian dispatch that they ran into extorting caravista for tax. milva tightens the same worn, polished leather bracer that she’s always had on her left arm, and mutters as she fixes her spiralled arrow fletchings over boiling water. geralt, with nothing left to do, paces and breathes, wondering where the hell regis has gone.
just then, regis walks out from behind an outcropping of rock, eyes glinting with cat-like light, in his “elegant” outfit, absolutely slaying that shit, and all his friends look at him absently like. “what the hell are you wearing. where the fuck did you get that. you packed that? you planned your outfit for the final battle, you planned this outfit in advance three months ago?” to which he counters, “well, three months isn’t very long at all,” and they’re like, “this is the preparation you made? we thought you left to do some secret vampire rituals or whatever. or to reckon with yourself for the severe violence we’re about to inflict.” and he’s like “no, i just wanted to make sure i was dressed nicely for the occasion”
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SOLA — Her Innocence, Sola— the anti-innocence— turns to face you. In the distance, you hear the tattoo of propellers, turning, sucking all the air. A strong wind whips her long, dark hair around her face. Her simple black gown billows behind her. The same gown she wore the day she resigned.
She has your eyes.
“Hi, Kim,” she says simply. “You don’t look well.”
PAIN THRESHOLD — Her voice is so familiar, and yet the moment she stops speaking, you cannot recall its sound, no matter how hard you try. And you have tried. Innumerable times.
AUTHORITY — What makes her think she would even *know* the difference between you looking well or unwell? She’s being presumptuous. She doesn’t even know you.
INLAND EMPIRE — She never will.
“I’m doing great, actually. Never been better.”
“Hey, I’m trying my best.”
“I’m *not* well. I’m so fucking unwell. I can’t take it anymore. Please, help me…”
“I’ll live.”
SOLA — “Hm…” She smiles apologetically. “Well, that’s all we can really ask for anymore, isn’t it?”
EMPATHY — She wishes more than anything that this was not the case. That you could ask for the world and have it.
RHETORIC — She tried to give it to you, and this is how you repay her? You’re gonna be in *deep* shit trying to explain that insignia you stitched onto her jacket.
“Um, about the jacket. It’s not what it… well, no, it *is* what it looks like. But I don’t— it’s— there’s nuance.”
“Is that really all you have to say to me?”
“I don’t know what to say to you.”
“Where are you going?”
SOLA — Her Innocence looks away from you, toward the wind. “Away,” she says, her voice distant and strange. “Yes… I’m stepping down, you see. The world doesn’t need me. It never needed me, really. It’s best for humanity to think for itself. No… it already *does* think for itself.”
She turns back to you with a small smile. The thought brings her peace.
PAIN THRESHOLD — But what does it bring *you?* She’s leaving you forever. Abandoning you for lofty ideals.
AUTHORITY — Let her go. Let her see how little you care. Don’t give her any satisfaction.
HALF LIGHT — Stop her. You won’t be able to live without her.
VOLITION — You have already lived almost all your life without her. You don’t need her. You have *never* needed her.
“What if the world *does* need you? Who are you to make that decision for the entire world?”
“Fine. Go. It’s none of my business.”
“So you’re just going to leave me behind again.”
“Please, don’t go. *I* need you.”
SOLA — “What else is an Innocence appointed to do?” Her smile turns wry. “You see? This is why I’m stepping down.”
Distant propellers turn and turn in endless circles. She glances toward them.
YOU — “Fine. Go. It’s none of my business.”
SOLA — “I suppose not.” Her voice and her face betray nothing. No sign of remorse.
YOU — “So you’re just going to leave me behind again.”
SOLA — “That was never my intention,” she says softly. “Surely you know that.”
INLAND EMPIRE — You will never truly know. No one will.
SOLA — She stares out at the horizon through the tendrils of hair that almost seem to threaten to swallow her. Her expression is strange and ambiguous, shifting every time you try and look directly at it.
YOU — “Please, don’t go. *I* need you.”
SOLA — She looks at you, and her eyes are full of what might be genuine sadness. But they could also be full of anything else.
“Oh, Kim… You must make do with what you have. I don’t know what else you want me to say…”
RHETORIC — What?! There are a million other things she could say! Forty-one years worth of possibilities! She could say *anything!* Anything at all… Even if she’d only left you a single word, it would be better than this…
VOLITION — It’s pointless to wish. Please, no more of this. It’s too sad.
“You could say that you’re sorry.”
“Say that I turned out all right.”
“Say that you’re proud of me. That you love me.”
SOLA — “Then I’m sorry.” She closes her eyes. “It was terrible of us to leave you alone.”
Her voice is utterly calm and emotionless.
PAIN THRESHOLD — No… Wrong, all wrong…
YOU — “Say that I turned out all right.”
SOLA — “You’re a good man despite it all. That is all I ever hoped for you.”
Again, there is no warmth to her words. No conviction.
VOLITION — Lieutenant… Please, don’t do this to yourself.
YOU — “Say that you’re proud of me. That you love me.”
SOLA — “I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. You wear that jacket well.”
Her eyes have nothing behind them. A pair of two millimeter holes in the world.
“I love you.”
PAIN THRESHOLD — Your lungs seem to constrict at her words. Your chest hurts more than it’s ever hurt. This wind is hard to breathe in.
YOU — “No! Don’t you fucking get it?! You don’t love me!”
SOLA — “Then I don’t love you.”
YOU — “You should be *ashamed* of me!”
SOLA — “Then I am ashamed.”
YOU — “I betrayed you! I betrayed everything you stood for! I’m a fucking cop!”
SOLA — “Then I am betrayed.”
She proclaims it as dispassionately as she proclaimed her love.
YOU — “For god’s sake, *say something real!*”
SOLA — She just looks at you. The propellers keep on turning.
DRAMA — She can’t speak for herself, sire…
LOGIC — Of course she can’t. Of course…
PAIN THRESHOLD — Your lungs feel like they could collapse. Empty, crumpled, dark. Hot tears prick your eyes for the first time in what feels like a long time.
SOLA — “Do you understand now?” she asks gently.
LOGIC — She cannot speak for herself because you do not know what she would say.
There are many memories that you have been slowly recovering, little by little. Your mother will never be one of them. Her, the revolution, the aerostatic brigade— they all died before you could even comprehend loss.
AUTHORITY — You did not become a detective so that you could find your lost mother. You became a police officer because you did not want to end up like her.
VOLITION — She can neither forgive you, nor condemn you. She is dead, Lieutenant. She can only be what you make her.
RHETORIC — You’re asking your own echo for answers…
SOLA — “Humanity must think for itself,” she says again, turning again toward the wind. “What point is there in asking me where to go from here? I’m a failure. We all failed…”
RHETORIC — The revolutionaries failed their children, and the children are failing their parents, and all of them are dying, dying, dead… What’s the point in any of this anymore? I cannot argue in favor of any of it.
VOLITION — There is a point. There is a way forward. But you won’t find it here, Lieutenant.
“I hate you. You made me everything I am and then you just *left.*”
“I miss you… How is it even possible to miss someone you never met? It’s like someone ripped a part of me out and all I can do is bleed.”
“I don’t know what I am. I need you to tell me what I am.”
SOLA — One last time, she turns back to you. She slowly bridges the gap between you and reaches out a hand to cup your cheek. Her fingers feel like your own.
“You are whatever kind of animal you choose to be,” she says, so quietly that you don’t know how you can hear it over the distant roar of engines. “I cannot make that choice for you.”
EMPATHY — She died hoping that you would grow up with the freedom to choose to be whatever you wanted. Instead, the world that raised you hardly let you dare to want anything.
VOLITION — But you can still make a choice. Humanity can still think for itself.
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I know nobody here really cares that much, but since 1989 (Taylor’s version) came out my fyp has been all about her & Harry, and so many of the videos are like “GASP was Harry one of the bad boyfriends?!”
And as someone who’s never felt any type of way about Harry, I think I like or at least respect him a little bit more after the vault tracks? Especially “is it over now?” Because I’ve seen a lot of clips of this man talking about Taylor over the years, and I’ve never seen or heard him say something disparaging or complaining about her writing songs about him. In fact, I’ve only ever seen him be like “hey, it’s her life and if she’s written anything about me, I’d be flattered. She’s so talented.” And this isn’t a new reaction, like there are interviews from that year where he says something to that effect and honestly?? Pop off, Harry.
They’re friendly enough that I’m sure he’s heard these songs before, or at least knew that she had some less than flattering ones in her back pocket, and was still like “yeah, no, I’d be honored. Are you kidding?” Like he was 20 or something when they were together and 20 year old boys are awful and shitty and apparently he’s talked about the fact that he’s a bad boyfriend before, so I love that this entire time he’s shown a level of emotional maturity and respect for her that fucking John Mayer refused to. It would’ve been so easy for him to be a dick about it, and he never was! It seems like he just went “I treated you like shit. You’re totally valid in this. Go off, queen.”
I’ve been laughing imagining him listening to the vault tracks and the “if she’s got blue eyes I can surmise that you’ll probably date her” line and being like “fuck, bro. She really called me out like that on main? Damn. I should send her flowers or something.” And then “now that we don’t talk” I can literally see him hearing the line about her mom and going “aw, Andrea. I always liked her. I hope she’s well. Fuck it, somebody send her flowers too.”
As somebody who knows nothing about him and never really got into 1d or paid close attention to his career, only passively enjoyed his music, I think these song’s coming out vastly improved my opinion of him 😂
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