deercountry | june catch-all

Entry tags:

june catch-all

Who: viktor and others, open to all with some closed prompts in comments
What: june catch-all, some tdm prompts
When: june
Where: various

content warning; terminal illness, arcane season 1 spoilers

misc lab stuff and various fruits.

[viktor's lab in the willful machine is usually left unlocked when he's working inside. friends or acquaintances have likely been told they're welcome to stop by if they like, either to say hello or to get help with whatever a vaguely sketchy lab could handle. of course someone he doesn't know can just walk in too or knock. maybe there's a sudden downpour and that ajar door is tempting? go for it.

the lab has been slowly filling with all sorts of nonsense on the various tables- lasers! tasers! some weird machine hooked up to a blood gem? it is not unlikely to be walking by and hear some minor booming noise and either a curse in czech or a satisfied 'a-ha!' feel free to investigate.

this month there's something else too, a bowl full of fruit. all the fruits mentioned in the tdm in fact, there to be tested on though it looks more like they're just for guests if people are unaware there's some weird shit going on.]

Just a moment, make yourself at home. [he might say to guest. that would include eating some fruit, right? enjoy. probably not the raw lemon though, that's weird.]

[ooc; if you want to memshare i am game, my only hard limit on memories is no suicide stuff please. self sacrifice is fine! feel free to ask to make sure one is okay. if you'd like a viktor memory let me know any hard limits and what sort of memory you might prefer!]

gaze and time loops.

[having lungs mostly working for the moment is pretty great, in viktor's humble opinion. it means walking around the trench doesn't come with the risk of coughing up blood and attracting beasts and generally having a bad time, along with added perks like not getting so easily winded and going for longer. it also means he finds himself out longer than he usually would, which maybe isn't the best, as it turns out.

for example, making his way home through gaze and hearing the chilling cry of a beast, sighing and trying to make his way around what turns out to be the wrong corner. maybe that's where he sees your character before the snarling of a too close beast starts in earnest.

and then snap! they're both back about an hour, where they passed on the street. the look viktor gives is somewhere between resigned and 'fuck this, actually.'] There is a term for this. 'One of those days,' I think.

[ooc; if you'd like to wildcard or do something else you can pm me here or find me at

dichotomy]

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Twice. [well he'll give 'teacher' this, he would have expected some sort of retribution or at least a demand for an explanation, but the man stays on task. not that it eases him in any real capacity, but reciting the simple facts does.]

By the next loop she will likely appear, or she will leave a message on the wall telling us to 'get it right this time.' What she deems as right is not always immediately apparent.

[a touch bitter there, though otherwise keeping carefully calm in this very normal conversation.] So there is a condition we must meet or we will endlessly play these last few minutes out until she is satisfied. If I had to hazard a guess I would say it was probably the violence.

[yeah maybe, just maybe, punching god is a mistake. he's still trying to wrap his head around why he even did that, thanks remina.]

The violence.

[ He echoes this under his breath, as though admiring the absurdity of it. Slowly, he steps back to their table, and drops his notebook back down beside the tea set with a heavy leather thwap. If a man of average height in a shabby black shirt can loom, he looms. That banked anger is still present in every line of his stillness, more eerie for how quiet it's gone. ]

Take two, then. Think you can resist the temptation?

[ This is where one would traditionally receive an apology. ]

[despite the overwhelming evidence from their recent, baffling interaction viktor is not hotheaded. he has also lived long enough with both chembarons and councilors to know when it's best to duck his head and lie through his teeth, if need be. for all he said before about the man before him being just that, a man and not an untouchable god, he easily remembers what he was capable of with just a touch of his hand. he knows there's a very good reason pal speaks so carefully around him when he is so upfront about everything else.

so yes, an apology would be a good start. he can feel it on the tip of his tongue, bitter and sharp, a pill he knows he needs to swallow but finds it incredibly difficult to do so. of course the trench keeps poking at lancing all the bitterness he learned to bury deep, then puts him in a position to bury it yet again.]

It will not be difficult to refrain, I... do not know what came over me. [he finally admits, because for as much as a ridiculous lie it sounds it is true.

he promised pal though, and that thought at least has him finally burying it all again to glance to his host.] I apologize for my behavior, regardless of what brought it on-

[and before he can finish remina must decide to call him out on that blatant lie by looping them again, back to the start. this time one of the walls has GET IT RIGHT THIS TIME seeping from it and viktor sucks in a breath, followed by an irate sigh.]

[ John stands at the desk, holding a journal. He sucks in a breath, and lets it out slowly. The wall is seeping blood and distortion and it is, frankly, deeply rude. ]

Looks like someone has a script in mind for us.

[ He turns back to Viktor. The look on his face is, briefly, dangerous: there is real hate there, something vulnerable and raw. A flash of cornered-animal fury. He steps forward, and it has cooled away again by the time he reaches the table. This time, he doesn't drop the journal. ]

Let's backtrack. Where were we?

[ Blasphemy and heresy and some just astonishingly poor decisions, apparently. ]

Apparently. [is viktor's answer, just barely resisting the urge to run his hands over his face. the loathing he feels for remina right now is immense, and he hasn't the slightest idea who here exactly is supposed to be learning some valuable lesson.

frankly if he's being used as a prop for the pthumerians to teach something to a necromatic god he is going to be livid, to put it lightly. the brief look he catches on his host's face doesn't help twisting unease in his stomach in the slightest.]

A somewhat normal conversation turned quickly hostile for reasons I still do not- [viktor starts then stops, stares for a moment at the tea cart before swearing in some fantasy slavic language. this time he does run a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as he says,] I do not suppose you've tried those raspberries yourself, have you?

[he's only seen the other fruit in action so this settles too neatly and obnoxiously into place. of course..]

[ Viktor zeroes in on the raspberries, and his host blows out a long, slow breath. His expression cycles through faint incredulity, exasperation, resignation. ]

I think it might be best that I don't.

[ Punching God is, you know, a bold move. Getting punched by God would be even more awkward, and possibly messier. ]

Is even the fruit against us, now?

[probably for the best, wrath of an angry god isn't exactly something viktor wants to deal with anytime soon. admittedly he's already been skirting around that today but he doesn't need the added help of magic fruit.

he lowers his hand, settling back as he counts it off,] Apples seem to make people share memories, grapes make you obsessive, lemons make you lustful. [shame there's no grapes of wrath joke to be made here.] Irritating, but no different than those floral foods last month. I have a theory it is either the shifting of months coming with a burst of excess arcane energy that finds its way into the plantlife, or the pthumerians find it amusing.

My money's on the latter.

[ He can't even be that surprised, and it shows in another flicker of distant anger, there and then gone. ]

Maybe we'll skip the spiked snacks, this time.

[congratulations john, because the moment viktor nods and begins to say 'that is a good idea' the world shifts again.

back to the start once more, though this time remina looms on the corner, staring hard at both of them. the words drip on the walls and viktor doesn't bother resisting the overwhelming urge to rub his temples.

so, remina decided raspberries are part of it. great. viktor plucks two up without a words, irritation etched into the hard lines of his shoulders.]

[ John looks back at her, and he has gone still the way wounded animals go still: there is a horrible tension wound through his body, even as he looks back to Viktor. ]

Apparently we're putting on a show.

[ His smile is more a baring of teeth. ]

So it would seem. [viktor offers back before popping the raspberries like a particularly bitter pill.

more aware of the effect now he thinks he can pinpoint his irritation starting to bubble, all the more when he glances up to find remina still staring. he resists the very real urge to go over there and punch her this time, which very well may happen by the end of the visit. why not punch two pseudo gods in one day? that can only go spectacularly for him.

he forces his gaze back to his host, jaw tightening.] So, where were we? Unpleasant conversation and half answers, I think.

Something like that.

[ He takes his attention off the eyeball in the corner, and the overt tension smooths back out again, hidden behind the quirk of his eyebrows. He is still watching her with senses Viktor does not have. ]

Maybe you can remind me what you're here to learn.

Magic systems. [he manages to grit out, like it's difficult, and it very clearly is.] I am... a strong believer in culminating knowledge for the advancement of the collective.

[remina stares, and at the very least when viktor finally snaps it's at a different god this time.] Was twice not enough for you? What do you hope to come from this farce?

[unsurprisingly remina has nothing to say just as viktor bites back something like he deserved it, just barely.]

The collective.

[ He murmurs it like it's a thought worth dwelling on. He can, at least, appreciate that Viktor turns his magically-worsened temper on the other asshole god in the room. While Viktor engages in a staring contest with a giant eyeball, he finally settles into his chair. ]

You've played the game before. What's the usual goal?

Yes, rather than hoard our knowledge like misers then vanish to the sea as sleepers often do I believe that an effort should be made to be open with our research. That it should build upon each other. [he says as much bitterly, though at least not snappish. an anger at the state of many things rather than a pointed one.

of course he doesn't stop staring at remina, lips nearly curled back in a snarl. feral roots one never quite grows out of, no matter how much piltover polished him.] To correct what she feels is a mistake, is how I would put it. One ended in being able to cure a child turned to a beast, the other is not your business. [well. rude but direct!] It was a 'personal lesson,' which I fear this might be. Though which of us is learning it I could not say.

[ Well, that's all he needs to hear. From his first week out of the sea, John has been certain of one thing only, and it's been reinforced at every turn: the Pthumerians have it out for him, specifically. He knows exactly what they want of him.

They love to trot out his ghosts. ]

I don't see any beasts at hand to cure.

[ (Beneath his meat, his bones itch to twist with chitin. Trench has been trying to twist him into something monstrous since May, and he's only skinned himself over human again by spite and force of will.) ]

But we've sussed out that she likes to watch us eat spiked fruit. That's a start.

[ Apologies, Viktor, if you thought he would make this quick or easy. ]

[ah, is anything ever quick and easy with the pthumerians? or gods for that matter, and viktor's glare turns on his host yet again.]

Perhaps she wishes to hear you answer a question straight, even just once. [ah resentment, because he is so very aware that if this is a lesson he is the tool in it. why else would he be forced to eat the fruit then turn on the emperor like this? he learns nothing, unless remina somehow thinks he'll get answers.

ridiculous. his fingers curl too tightly again.] Because we are both aware I am the tool being used against you here. So why not, perhaps you can finally answer what this war of yours is really about, or what happened to your cavalier that makes you so eager to put others through this horrific nonsense.

[ There it is again. He exhales, and the silence between them hangs for just a beat. ]

Let's set a few facts straight.

[ Remina's gaze bears down on him from the corner of the room. God ignores her, and leans in to pour the tea. ]

We have been at war for a very long time. See, we aren't the only ones spreading out among the stars... There are other kingdoms out there. And they had a hell of a head start.

[ The teacups clink quietly. God stirs sugar into his. ]

It took us centuries to do with necromancy what they can do with tech... We had to invent it all from the ground up.

[ He raises his teacup, and raises his eyebrows at Viktor over it. ]

And not to make things awkward, but: I think you misunderstand what I am.

So this is a war of mutual conquest? That is the goal of this war machine of yours? [not impressed, shockingly. more so he thinks it's hard to have this discussion when everything seem to rely on God's word here, and he does not trust that.

pal never really mentioned a war. an army yes, but not a threat. ortus' memory had propaganda. it seems especially heinous to him that they me be fodder for this machine and be offered little in terms of what the machine's purpose truly is. just on god's own word, as the faithful should, perhaps.

his ire is rising dangerously again.] What? You are 'god,' and a necromancer. I am more curious what your cavalier was, if your eyes are the way they are.

[ He says, very calmly, still holding a teacup: ]

No. They want us wiped from existence. Necromancy is our way of life, the breath of my people, the only way we survive... the only way I raised us from the ashes. They would see us eradicated. Every necromantic man, woman, and child.

[ He sets the tea down untouched with a clink of porcelain, then leans forward over his knees. Remina watches from the corner, silent. ]

I am the necromancer. All the rest are my children, and the River is my domain. I have the keys of death... et cetera.

[ What your cavalier was, says Viktor, and for a moment God closes his terrible black-hole eyes. He leans back in his chair and says, again so terribly patient: ]

There's the mixup: I am not a Lyctor.

[ And they loop. ]

[ah, a lot to unpack there, and most of it impossible to confirm or deny. plenty to dig into, but instead of that his mind is suddenly cleared of rage and god is standing.

another loop. remina watches on, as blandly as an eyeball can be. viktor's brow furrows then quirks up.]

You're lying about not being a lyctor. [interesting. he plucks up two raspberries before remina can get any ideas, but it's with a very clear head he asks,] Why? Because it is too common for a god? Or because of your cavalier? It is hard to imagine 'god' feels remorse.

[ For a moment, his composure breaks: God looks at Remina as though he is very seriously gauging whether to throw the notebook at her. With difficulty, he drops it back onto his own desk. ]

It isn't that simple.

[ He folds himself down into the seat across from Viktor, again. Pours himself a cup of tea. Lets the silence hang. ]

I am not one of my saints. [ He says nothing, again, about his cavalier. Remina watches from the corner. ] But apparently that's the intended topic of our little tea party, so I'll confirm some history.

[viktor watches him, and in the silence he finally eats the god damned raspberries with an exhale out his nose. annoying.]

Then what are you? [for the first time he isn't totally pissed at remina, at least she's keeping the whole thing somewhat honest. though that does imply what he said about the war isn't a blatant lie.

good to know. still vague enough for questions.] Why are your eyes black? What gives you the right to play with their lives like this?

I am God.

[ The statement hangs. Remina does not protest.

He traces a finger around the rim of his teacup, as though deliberating on this next bit, and looks Viktor in the eye. ]

Our system was in rough shape, way back when. I built the Nine Houses from dust and rubble. Its people have life because I gave them life. And that's not a parlor trick: I pulled their souls out of the water and remade the bodies they'd lost. It took a long time... It took a hell of a long time to rebuild.

But I had help. I had my twelve disciples... sixteen, by the time things really kicked off, but it started with the twelve. [ He smiles again, thinly. ] They were my first resurrections.

[ He pauses, here, on the cusp of something. Remina looms and watches. ]

[viktor's jaw tenses, remina does not claim him false. it adds a lot of information, some he knew and some he did not. the resurrection, he remembers hearing. a little bit about the ruined first.

this man calls himself god and maybe he is, in some ways, in a self built way, but-]

How? If becoming a lyctor takes devouring a soul what did it take to become 'god?'

[said with the sharp implication it must be a greater horror still.]

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