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]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[when viktor glances over it is pretty immediately obvious something is wrong, that chill for some reason shook pal more than it did viktor. his grip tightens as if he's the one steadying pal now, lips in a grim line.

not exactly the time to dig into if he's okay, not when everywhere singed moves rattles and the steady sound of chalk hitting the board keeps filling the air.

he glances over to catch what she's writing and- ah. he can guess now, what is happening. what she's doing. it has him pulling pal a touch closer before he tries to push it all out of his mind, pal with camilla's eyes staring at him, haunted by her tragedy. rationality was their best bet.]

I need- [a beaker comes flying at them, viktor turning in time for it to merely hit his shoulder rather than pal's head. he grimaces and continues.] Time. That is what I need. There may be some rituals we can try but I need to look at my notes, I was trying to find any information when Chizuru was-

[this time the entire shelf of books nearby flies at them, singed merely watching with what pal might recognize as that quiet satisfaction.]

[Beakers! Now there are beakers flying around! Palamedes still ducks, gaze darting between Singed and Cytherea and then Viktor's busiest desk beyond. For notes, alright-]

Alright; I can only get you half the room.

[So let's hope this is the correct half with the right notes in it to solve at least one of their problems, he doesn't add; it seems too obvious. He tugs Viktor back with him, closer to the desks and to Cytherea, unfortunately, but she's done nothing but write sick directions on chalkboards so far, so if he had to pick a ghost...

The real world still doesn't feel entirely - there, almost, there's a very swimmy quality to things left over from that vision, but Palamedes is aware enough to throw up a ward that spans from one wall to the other. It's the same kind as his classic first meeting ward, the kind that is markedly not going to hold if he breaks his concentration. Still: it's something between Singed flinging books (what the fuck) and the two of them, and he still has the presence of mind to scoot with Viktor over to the desks before the blood sweat starts to break out.]

Well— [please go fast xoxo] Here's time.

[viktor's mouth is in a grim line but this seems like their best chance, short of getting out of here and hoping allen or someone else can help. he would theorize about the ghosts feeding on each other, especially because singed's bored stare is melding too seamlessly with cytherea's before.

pal's arm gets a squeeze before he's rushed to the desk, flipping open his notes and running through them as calmly and quickly as he can manage.

easier said than done when singed seems to be aiming very much for pal now, even as he stands still, nothing but a lipless sneer. books, beakers, one jar of hope orbs crashes against the ward and cracks, some of the little lights bleeding out.]

There's- [this time a beaker crashes and breaks into pieces, and those sharp pieces get thrown.] -a ritual, for banishing. There are two ways to do it, both involve blood. Give me your scalpel.

[good thing for blood sweat!]

[Holding up a ward that's actively being attacked by jars and sharp things is - easier than it looks, actually, but that doesn't make it easy overall. Palamedes is, after all, bleeding from more pores than is frankly comfortable; but it could be worse. For example, the ghosts could attack the ward themselves rather than Singed just throwing things at it with ghost magic; not that Palamedes knows what happens to Trench-brand ghosts against this kind of ward, but slamming one breed of thanergy against another is probably painful!

So, he's doing his best. He's holding it up, and manages with effort to fish a scalpel out of a pocket of his cloak - which he is only now noticing he never managed to take off, thanks ghosts for the distraction - and hold it out for Viktor.

Now Viktor wants to endorse bleeding, etc etc, got 'em... He'll save it for later.]

And then? —Why does he throw more things at me than at you? Not the point; what's next?

[viktor grabs the scalpel and immediately cuts his palm. if he wasn't busy he'd wonder why they always go for the palm, it's actually a bit annoying of a place to work with. it just feels natural but- yes, focusing. the low glow of the moon from the window turns it pale immediately as he turns to pal.]

Pardon me. [have to be polite when you reach out to take some of your boyfriend's sweat blood on your fingers. he then dips it into his own blood when he says,] One way is the combination of types which- does not seem to be working on it's own. Lovely.

[singed moves foreward, so. him, about to test that what happens if a ghost hits the ward. viktor's next move is to pull his fingers up to draw a circle on his own forehead, just in time for singed to press a palm against the ward.

he stops, mouthing something viktor can't make out before vanishing in a peaceful lull. after only a brief moment viktor turns to rub the same circle on pal's forehead, hastily, eager to free them both.]

[Oh, that's his blood sweat, cool. Palamedes trusts Viktor to know what he's doing, mostly focusing on the ward— he can't help but be curious about whatever this ritual is, much as it turns out to be underwhelming, as actions go.

Still, the few seconds Singed is touching the ward are uncomfortable, in a way Palamedes can't explain; the ward is thanergy held up and made tangible, not any piece of himself. He reasons that Singed walking through them earlier is a good enough explanation as any for why he feels something off now, and then— there he goes.

Palamedes' gaze darts to Cytherea as Viktor smudges his head, and she simply watches. In the moment before she too disappears she tosses the chalk at the two of them with almost whimsical laxness; it rolls toward their feet and stops, and then she's gone. Palamedes glances up, past where she was, and says,] Great.

[But he does drop the ward now, after an extra moment to be sure they're really gone. He's bloody and tired, reaching for Viktor to check him for any errant injuries from those first object throws. Cytherea's writing has all but exploded: the lyctorhood steps still sit in the center on the board, while 'YOU LIED TO US' is scrawled in increasingly erratic sizes all around it on the wall behind.

Well, her drama has to wait.]

Are you alright?

[a tension leaves viktor's shoulders with her vanishing, returning as he looks over pal, similarly concerned some errant book hit him. fuck his sleeve, he pulls it up over his hand to dab a little at the blood sweat, letting out a soft, shaky sigh.]

Yes, fine. That escalated far faster than I assumed it would or could. I suspect our ghosts fed off each other.

[his eyes stray to the writing, though he can leave it alone for now to kiss pal. firmly, with the determination of someone why wants physicality to prove they're alright and here.

when he breaks it he finally slumps back to a seat on the desk, frowning at his sluggishly bleeding palm before his eyes go back to pal.] Are you alright? You seemed dazed before.

[Please, save that sleeve, he can use his cloak for the rest of the blood sweat. He does that hastily, pushing his glasses up and askew in the process and humming irritably behind the fabric. Yes, they definitely fed off each other, what a lovely thing to add to the notes—]

They must have, [he says, half-muffled, oop] But that ritual of yours is handy. Who figured that out?

[He says all of this... into the cloak as he wipes his face and neck free of blood sweat... it's fine. Being kissed as soon as he puts the cloak down is a welcome non-answer to the important ritual lore questions and he leans into it like a drowning man. Good— they're good. Yet again, against all odds, they're good.

So, hm. He comes over to the desk and turns to lean back against it, tsking at the mess of broken glass and books and shiny orbs tossed all over just one half of the room. Weird vibe.]

I saw— something, when he touched us before. His memory? And his state of mind back then drew me in; I couldn't do anything but wait.

[Anyway, completely unrelated question,] Where's Rio?

[sleeve is already fucked, though he does resist the urge to use it to clean his own forehead, unsure if it needs more time or something. he is not risking bringing those two back, not now, hopefully not ever.]

It was from a visit to the archives, which was a headache. I was there with a- a man with cat ears, he helped. I didn't know what would work or not. [thank god it did. all the ritual business is too vague and mystic for his liking, to be fair.

he leans into pal a little, shoulders pressed together with a sigh as he surveys the damage. annoying. his fingers are stained inky with pal's blood and he glances over uneasily when he says that.]

What memory? I can't imagine his state of mind was very pleasant, he is... well, I suppose you've seen. [a beat] Oh, she was sleeping by the tree last I saw. Once we clean up the glass I'll call her in, she'll be pleased you came by.

[and he's just glad he could keep her away from the ghost. he cannot imagine that would have been pleasant for anyone.]

[A man with cat ears...]

The one with the glasses?

[He doesn't know how many cat ear guys are around, but surely not hugely many? The one Palamedes met underground was helpful at... being underground and hitting giant bugs, that's very like being in the archives when one considers the overall pleasantness factor.

But anyway. He rubs his sleeve against his cheek one last time, reaching for Viktor's stained fingers to tangle with his own.

Rio is just fine, having a nice nap by the tree, that's a relief...]

She was there, in the memory. Objectively, he's an unrepentant asshole, but something in that memory was— hmm. Just awful. He did something to her, and he didn't feel anything at all.

[Eugh. Terrible. He'd almost rather be blindsided by someone's genuine pleasure-in-evil, before more of that.]

Well, at least we didn't have to grovel for them.

No, unless he wears them only sometimes. [how many cat boys can there be? actually like two so there you go. maybe viktor just didn't notice, given he didn't even remember a name. it was a long month, give him a break.

regardless he's more than happy to curl their fingers together, a firm grip for a number of reasons. all the more when he hears that, brow furrowed.

in a way he's afraid to ask and clarify, does he even want to know if singed did other awful things to rio he never knew about? or is it the big one, the skin crawling one that he tried to make himself understand when he was doomed and desperate himself.

and he felt nothing, apparently. he wonders if that is truly singed or his own fears about the situation. the trench is uniquely annoying, as it turns out.]

She was dying when we met. He said he was going to save her. [he says after a bit of quiet. it means something that pal cares for rio on his own, enough to really understand.] Saving her did not mean for her sake, but for the experiment. Her... quality of life was not put into consideration.

[he leans in more, a thump of his head against pal's shoulder.] At least we didn't have to learn anything. It was purely for torment, and I am not sure which is worse in truth.

[fuck off there are more of them, he didn't need to know this about the local catboy population. not like this.]

I'm... about one hundred percent certain on the glasses, but it was dark. Never mind.

[Never mind, Rio time; he presses their arms together more firmly, like this point of anchored touch will make the awful truth of what happened to Rio feel further away. After another moment he covers their joined hands with his free one, turning his head to kiss the top of Viktor's when he leans into his shoulder. Mmph.

It's one thing to feel that blank nothingness, the bleak satisfaction, and it's another entirely to hear the reasoning and explanation behind it; to picture Rio's big, goofy face bumping into him at all hours in all places, and to ever think that her quality of life wouldn't matter. He sighs.]

We should have thrown the beakers back at him, [he says, after a pause.] Honestly, if we'd had to apologize, we'd have been locked down here for the next couple months. Or learn. I didn't learn anything worth knowing.

[Rio, he means, but he glances up at all the Cytherea scrawling, too. He doesn't count all that as "learning," necessarily. Hmm.]

I brought blankets; are you alright to spend the night here, still? After we clean up.

Neither did I. [viktor admits, regarding the carnage.] Though maybe it reinforced some things.

[ah staying here for the night- yes, he refuses to let either of the ghosts taint this place. he turns to kiss pal a moment, chaste, before he's getting to his feet with a sigh.

and his eyes go to the chalkboard, the scrawling.] I do. I'm not letting them ruin this place.

[he can guess what the steps are, and a curl of irritation in his gut reminds him of certain talks. what he doesn't know is-] What is this about lying?

[If only Jr. was here and not in the lab, he could do a little sweeping... alas. Well, the heavy things that got knocked over are just going to have to wait. Palamedes hums and stoops to pick up some fallen books, the strange border in the middle of the room between mess and no mess where his ward had been.

Ah- and. He'd stood in his office in this very building and told God, This won't benefit anyone to know, which is technically not "I will keep my mouth shut forever," so you know what.

Whatever, empire? Whatever, empire.] Promise me again you won't let that- [the cool scribbling, everywhere] leave this room?

[Which he takes as a given, so after a beat, he goes on:]

It's about him again, like it always is. I'd figured it out, about Lyctorhood, which is why I'd refused; the steps aren't finished. [Casually, he says this, waving a hand at the chalkboard with its steps as he stacks books back onto their shelves.] I don't know how to finish the work myself. I'd need more time, and of course, Camilla. But there's a way to do it that doesn't dispose of the cavalier.

[Mm. Hmm. Hmmmm...]

I think she figured it out. Cytherea. I can only guess how... Anyway, what she knew or didn't doesn't matter; this one will bruise more people than just his delicate ego, if it gets out.

[So please, the rage is very sexy, but this one goes in the box and doesn't come out again, he's asking nicely.]

I promise, so long as errant magic fruit do not once again make me a liar. [hm, bitter. still viktor moves to start wiping the board clean, happy to see the words vanish piece by piece.

though he does pause halfway, turning as palamedes continues.] What? [his words are a snap, there's that good old anger that once was directed at the source.

he closes his eyes, lets out his breath and finishes wiping away LIED with a pointed aggression.] All that talk of honorable sacrifice, the spineless bastard. I cannot-

[he pauses, as if surprised at himself, then turns again.] I cannot go back to him. Will you put our project with my lungs as a priority? I think it is time we did.

[There's that lovely anger; Palamedes smiles despite himself, though it's strained - he knows exactly where that anger is coming from, although his own isn't so... fresh. It's why he presses so persistently for Viktor to please... not eat fruit for a while, whatever.]

He told me the honorable sacrifice story too. Mine even had 'poetry' in it.

[For eating souls!! Souls of their loved ones! For fuck's sake, how could anyone— no, he's focusing. He looks around for something to sweep the broken beaker into, glancing up at Viktor when he's ducked down to do just that. He's relieved; he's been torn about asking, not that, well - he does kind of thing he has ammunition against God, at this point, but the issues of agency, and so on.

So: good. He nods.]

Absolutely. Start first thing in the morning? I want to start with a clear head.

[And Viktor wants his private study sleepover, also a priority.]

Ha, it was a favorite beat in the circling stories. He must be powerful, given his charisma skills are severely lacking. [viktor replies as he finishes with the board.] I do not know how else he convinced an empire of this nonsense.

[hm, this new news really pisses him the fuck off, it seems. the fact there was a way, the fact he went on and on about wars but strung his 'family' through it, just- yes, letting it go again. it's not surprising, as infuriating as it is. he did not lie to 'god's' face when he called him repulsive.

better to focus on this, offering pal a crooked quirk of his lips.] It is a plan. I have something from the tunnels that might help our efforts.

[he definitely showed him the hexgem already, and it certainly makes this all seem far more plausible than it did before.]

Maybe the rest of his saints were charming, besides Cytherea. And Patience.

[Whatever that guy's name actually is; Palamedes isn't super interested in finding out. He watches Viktor a moment, watching the anger bubble and then simmer back down, and then he feels secure enough to look back down at his pathetic attempts at sweeping. There's a broom in his office, but like, going to get it...]

I'll try anything that isn't drugs. [c..cool jokes. really though.] Bright and early, then. I spent all day with her; I missed you.

[So please, tell him all about what fun other work happened today before the ghosts showed up. That is excellent slumber party fare.]

Please, the two I've met are either unbearable or off kilter. [viktor snorts.]

And honestly, it's just the hexgem. The shimmer I'm making a proper lockbox for. [just incase. his lab isn't as secure as he'd like.

he mostly uses his cane to push things into a more reasonable pile before dealing with the annoyance of kneeling to pick it up, somewhat sure they've at least gotten all the glass. he lifts his head to smile at pal, the feeling mutual.] Well, lucky for you we're starting a very intensive collaboration together. I think you'll be seeing a lot more of me. [dry, fond.]

You're being generous. [Lyctors... gross. Anyway, good choice, putting that thing in a box. He straightens up from picking up bits of things off the floor and moves in for a quick peck, newly energized (!) by the thrill of productivity. Plans, and so on.]

And for years to come. [When these new lungs definitely work, because they will, or else. He will hire Remina to loop them back, or so help him--] I'm looking forward to it.

[Thinking about their slumber party though, he crosses to pick up the blankets he'd thrown at Singed's jumpscare, looks at them a moment, and then flops them into a messy pile on the lumpy couch. They'll be getting there shortly; who needs to fold.]

It will... well. When we're through the tricky parts— then I'll say it was fun.

Gods forbid. [offering lyctors generosity? no thanks. regardless he picks up a few more of the books before deciding it's clean enough, for now.

he glances over to pal again, putting the blankets on the couch.] I can't believe you threw a blanket at a ghost. [he offers, quite ready to make light of the whole situation even if it's wildly uncomfortable still, deep down. a lot to think about that can be done later, not on what will be a nice night so help him.

he moves over, behind pal where he can comfortably rest his his forehead on the back of pal's neck without much ducking, the tall bastard.] The tricky parts will be the fun parts. You know if you do not wish to do the surgery itself we may be able to find someone else capable.

[because professional or not it might be a lot, opening up someone you know. getting to the lungs isn't an easy surgery by any means, he expects it will be a touch gruesome with what they have to work with, unless necromancy eases the process considerably.]

[Palamedes tuts at that, gesturing very pointedly at his blanket pile, like, well, it did work? Kind of?]

Say it like you're impressed?

[Ha ha, and hello; he reaches over his shoulder briefly to tousle Viktor's hair as best he can at this angle. This is... a fair point, but counterpoint: they're one for one on having other people mucking around in Viktor's lungs turn out creepy and uncomfortable. Two for two, if Remina and the blueberries count in a sideways kind of fashion.

He hums, and turns halfway to slide an arm around Viktor and lean in close.]

I want to do it. You'll be bored without me there. [Whether he has to somehow stay awake for this, or not... either way.] Although I'll allow an assistant, just in case...

[Like, he'll need breaks? But he can do this; the thing he cannot do is trust anyone else 100% poking around in there, so at the very least, he will be Supervising.]

It was very heroic. Quick thinking. The ghost was shamed to be one of those eh, those cheap costumes. I swooned. [is viktor's very dry answer, that comes with a kiss to the back of his neck so. who's the real winner here.

he's happy to put his arms around pal's waist and rest against him for a moment, tugging at whatever odd omen bond he has to try to call rio back inside. she does what she wants so he doesn't expect a speedy response.]

I suppose we'll see who is available and trustworthy. Your little flock are a possibility. [despite his menacing of them.] If I can't be awake is it odd to ask for a recording? I wish to see the process myself.

[it is weird but what can you do.]

[Everything's coming up Palamedes, this is excellent praise, which here means it makes him laugh, short and sweet, so thanks. He is an excellent and heroic winner, indeed.]

They're very capable, you know. And they do like you. [His little flock... he's pretty sure they like Viktor, when they aren't startled or heckled. They like his scones? Pros, cons.

It is profoundly weird to ask for a recording, but as Palamedes is a necromancer, he says,] Where would I put a camera? I doubt Rio's going to want to watch.

[And Rocky would actually menace the little flock, so a proper camera...? Hmm.]

If you trust them I will. I fear seeing my organs may make them less intimidated, but that is a problem that can be solved. [creatively. relax. anyway he likes them too, so he's fine with the flock being assistants.

in fact.] Have one of them hold your omni. You have plenty of them to spare. [the flock, not omnis.

speaking of rio skitters in with the haste of someone who realizes palamedes is here, thumping her large head against his knees in demand of pats. usually viktor would make a joke about how she likes pal better but for now he just enjoys the moment for what it is, morbid requests and all.]

june catch-all

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