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Despite the fact that she was supposed to have trained with them at Aretuza, Ciri doesn't have much to do with sorceresses. It's nothing against them, exactly; it's just that she doesn't have the need, and rarely has the opportunity. She is a witcher, after all, and a Cat to boot. It's not easy to find a witcher who will trust a mage, but the Cats trust them least of all, in no small part because of the history of their School. Sure, she spent a lot of time with Triss at Kaer Morhen, but that was more than a decade ago, and they haven't run into one another since.
Of course, after her most recent visit to the aforementioned keep, she probably should have expected that to change in some capacity.
Just because most witchers tend to have nothing to do with sorceresses, that doesn't mean there aren't outliers. Geralt of Rivia is absolutely an outlier, and should not be counted. He can deny it all he wants, but he has both a type, and a track record.
After all, it can't be a coincidence when Triss walks into her room at the Cunny of the Goose. It makes no sense for Temeria's court mage to be here, unless it's intentional. Unless she's looking for someone.
"Ciri? So it's true." Triss is pale, though whether it's with anger or something else, Ciri can't exactly tell. All she is sure of is that Triss is very unhappy with her.
"Triss," she replies with a nod, by way of greeting. "What's true, exactly?"
She waves her hand, causing Ciri's medallion to thrum. Everything is suddenly silent but the two of them; a privacy spell, then, meant to keep them away from any prying ears past the thin, public walls. "You're a witcher now," answers the sorceress. It almost sounds like she means it as an insult.
"I am," says Ciri. Answering the unspoken question in that statement, she confirms, "Mutations and all."
"Why!?" she demands. "Ciri, what about your Power? What about your blood--"
"Damn it, Triss, I'm more than just my blood!" Ciri snaps.
"Did you give any thought to your future?" Triss seethes.
"Of course I did!"
"And you still threw it away? With all the people who could have guided you, helped you take your birthright--"
"I never wanted any of that!" Despite the decade-plus of rigorous training in control, the aforementioned Power clings to her voice, shaking the walls around them. She takes a deep, meditative breath, just as Gezras taught her long ago, when she'd first come to her School. When she speaks again, her voice is far more measured, more even, and certainly more guarded. "I never wanted to rule over anyone, I never wanted children, I never wanted everyone watching and scrutinising everything I do and say! All I wanted was to be able to protect people; myself, those I care about, those who can't protect themselves. I've always had to look over my shoulder, sleep with one eye open; but now, it's simple. Now, I know that it was my choice, and it is one I cannot bring myself to regret."
A small part of her wonders just what Triss sees, now, when she looks at her. Is she still Ciri, the girl who was like a little sister to her? Or has she become nothing more than a rogue witcher to the woman? Or was she always nothing more than a potential political tool, a Child of the Elder Blood for her to manipulate as it suited her? And, as for Ciri, is this concern legitimate, or is she simply more influenced by her mentor's distrust of mages than she'd previously thought?
Triss's face is hard, unreadable. Ciri knows that she's still furious, though if it's truly about her mutations, or about something else entirely, she's not sure. Conjuring a portal, the sorceress's final words before stepping through it are, "I'll try not to say 'I told you so' when that day comes."
The silencing enchantments Triss had cast on the room slowly begin to fade, the music and drunken chatter of the tavern below regaining its volume until she no longer feels isolated from the world around her.
Isolated. That's a good word for how Triss has always seemed to want her to live. Honestly, Ciri thinks as she gets ready to make her own exit, that's Triss's fucking problem.