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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[he fell- that raises more questions than answers. maybe what raises the most is pal wants to leave rather than... what? try and help whoever else may have fallen? was the ship wrecked?

viktor leans in to press their foreheads together, just a moment, the warmth of his skin against the chill of pal's.] Lean on Rio. [he leans to get his cane again, hand at pal's back this time.] A storm has been picking up, we should hurry.

[Honestly, bless Viktor for not asking about the others, or even the boat. He came out here ready to pick up the pieces and then... this, 'can we leave,' a sentence he doesn't think he's ever uttered when fully aware that someone could probably use his help. But he'd heard the strange reverberation in Paul's voice and seen the willingness on more than one face to murder an entire crew on the word of one psychopath, so—

He leans on Rio, his other hand curled into the fabric of Viktor's shirt up at his shoulder, like if he falls on his face in this sand he will simply lie there forever. He might. A storm—]

Right. Let's just get to the lamp. I don't want to see whatever happens next.

[bless rio and her sturdy bulk, moving slowly so viktor can at least try to plant his cane into the soft sand and not drag pal down in a flailing fall. he can't stop himself from looking over, as if he'll find some hidden injury or tell that something more is amiss.

when they get off the sand and onto the dirt he glances back, once, concern for ortus he quietly lets simmer back down as he turns back forward.]

At least the bunker is especially storm proof. [he remarks as they get closer to the lantern. because where else would they be going?]

[Ah, and he catches that look, different from Viktor's simmering worry over him, and so he offers:]

Ortus pushed me overboard— to spare me witnessing Paul and the rest murdering a bunch of pirates, I've decided. Gideon and Harrow are still there, so...

[So, Ortus has other people to protect; he can't tell Viktor outright that Ortus is fine because he doesn't rightly know, but as far as they're both aware, he's making a valiant effort to put his hands in front of Gideon's and Harrow's eyes and stop them witnessing an atrocity.

One can hope. He falls back into silence after that, a little brooding maybe, but mostly the kind of brooding that wants to put on dry clothes and bury his face in Viktor's chest for the rest of the day and have his hair petted for a while.

So then: lantern, bunker, clothes. He dresses hastily and leaves his wet clothes in a heap on the bathroom floor rather than deal with them right now; they can drip into the shower drain, whatever. He has notably not put on his old man pajamas, although he pauses to look at them after dumping the wet stuff in the bathroom. Hm, well, everyone is on the beach by now, at the closest, but...]

Let's go to Sanctuary. Do you mind? I need to... not be near here.

[well, if ortus felt the need to push pal overboard rather than let him stay on the boat, that was grim. he feels both a rush of worry and gratitude for the man, pushes it from his mind along with questions about murder that will get answered later.

for now pal gets a nod, leaning over to kiss his shoulder as they walk. he takes comfort in the feeling of pal's ring against his fingers when he links their hands.

in the bunker viktor is ready to settle but pal apparently isn't, and that request just clutches his chest for a moment with the severity of the situation before he moves to grab the duffle bag he was using as his primary clothes storage before he moved into the bunker.]

Put some clothes in here then, it- [an especially loud crack of thunder outside makes his lips thin.] It may be difficult to get back, if the storm keeps up.

[he drops the bag on the couch to move over and do something he very much wanted to for a while, which is kiss pal with all the nerves of being unsure for a few precious moments if he made it out. when he pulls back it's to cup his jaw, a caress of his thumb before he's moving to do the same- some clothes, a jar of anticorruption jam incase this is feeding into pal's own levels.]

[damn not even some cardboard drawers in the lab

Palamedes is grateful to yet again not be questioned; he manages a quick smile, picking up his pajamas in a rumpled mess, and— ah, nearly dropping them again to melt into Viktor, horror and anxiety and relief all vying for priority at once. The pjs get shoved under one arm, hands reaching for Viktor with an almost frenetic uncertainty of where he should put them first? His hair, the back of his neck, his chest— wherever Palamedes can reach in the next few moments, before the kiss ends.

He murmurs a 'thank you,' then nods and turns to put the pjs in the bag. Some more clothes, a notebook or two without even looking at which ones they are, even the last month's memory display gift thing, in case he can't bring himself to recount the events in words.

Weather, also? Is bad. He makes a face at the next crack of thunder, grim, and resolves to not think about it by remembering his stupid lens is in the shirt pocket on the bathroom floor, augh- once he's gone and retrieved that, it goes in a new shirt pocket, to be dealt with later.

So when he reaches for Viktor's hand, rubs at his ring with idle fondness with his thumb and looks around the bunker to see if he's forgotten anything obvious, well, he can't see shit. But he's making an educated guess.]

I think the storm is his fault. [Anyway, he will carry the bag, he's good for it. Let's go.] Ready?

[waste of space, duffle bag shoved under the cot was good enough. thanks for putting an end to that bullshit, pal.

it is not easy to pull away but he does, grim as the last of what they need is grabbed, taking a moment to send a message to ortus to check in. his omni gets tucked away, hand running over rio's head as she reflects his unease with a trill.]

Of course it is. [his mind refuses to go to things like dead planets, instead intertwining their fingers and nodding.] Let's go.

[it's really just a mad shuffle to the lamp then right to sanctuary, which thankfully has its own lamp. it's a welcoming sight, even abigail passing in the halls and huffing at the state of them, demanding more than offering that they take the tea she'll bring them, in viktor's office, right? for once viktor doesn't try to weasel out, just offers a grateful nod and directs pal there.

it's cleaned up, thankfully, no longer littered with glowing orbs and books. viktor directs him to the couch, letting his own cane fall haphazardly as he sits with him, a rattling sigh.] Gods, for a moment- what do you need, Palamedes?

[Palamedes would like the tea, actually, so that's nice of her, if in the expected disappointed way, given how hastily they dashed here in and out of the storm. Already in the Sanctuary he feels better, less heavy, less frayed around the edges, and he lets Viktor lead them to his office and drops the duffel bag as soon as they're in there.

He's reaching for Viktor the moment they're both seated, fully intent on that plan to bury his face in the crook of his neck for a bit here, just to feel the warmth of his skin and steadiness of - well, land. A couch that doesn't move; a man who'll leave home with him without asking why.]

Just you. And— a minute to think. I left them there.

[And he's not going back, not even considering it, but he does feel guilty about it, safe and dry here when who knows what's going on on that beach.]

[the first thing viktor does is run a hand through pal's hair, down until it rests on the back of pal's neck and he can take a moment to shudder out a little sigh. he's already filling in too many blanks with ideas that will turn out both better and worse than the reality. sadly the worse is mostly around the people he didn't expect to be a problem at all.]

Perhaps it is blunt, but if you left them because you thought of yourself first then I am glad. It is not your responsibility to be their savior.

[especially those he thinks are turning blind eyes to obvious matters, but that is more complicated. he presses a kiss to the top of pal's head and murmurs,] It is certainly not your responsibility to clean up after his mistakes.

[Ah, that's nice, he could stay here and focus on Viktor's fingers in his hair for a few hours and not have any other thoughts at all, that would be excellent. Instead he simply sits there for a few long beats, before turning his head with a sort of half-hearted puff of a laugh; no, he always appreciates Viktor's bluntness, and he's right. Just give Palamedes more time to sync thought with reality, he'll get there.]

I was thinking about you. [Well-] Us. Don't get me wrong; I didn't want to linger. But I thought, 'Viktor has been standing there for a while,' and that... helped.

[A little bemused, like, is that weird? Does that seem off, in the face of a boat full of murder? Hmm. He shifts to slouch more comfortably against Viktor, head pressed over his heart, reaching across to thread their fingers together and linger on the ring again, a moment.

He sighs.] And I know. But the leaving is... something.

[that is- well. it makes viktor kiss into his hair again, staying there and closing his eyes against a swell of emotion. things like how much he loves pal, and how that is returned, and how it's simple but still profound. hits him when he least expects it.

when he pulls his head back his hand returns to pal's hair.] I am glad it did. I am very, deeply and selfishly glad it had you turning away from that.

[even if he only vaguely understands 'that.'

the ring is a lot like pal's- it doesn't spin but he fashioned it closely regardless, out of what pal picked out. it has taken some getting used to but sometimes he looks over at it and it brightens something in him, damningly so.]

It is something. [he curls his fingers around pal's hand.] You seemed... it is hard to say. A breaking point, maybe.

[That gets him to laugh again, a more solid sound this time - selfishly, mm, is that the word to use right now? If Palamedes is supposed to be thinking about himself first this time, unselfishly, and Viktor is thinking of him - surely neither of them is being selfish. Or if it is, it isn't as if it compares to the selfishness of killing a boatload of people, so—

Well, he'd rather be here than there, and Viktor is a large part of that. Simple facts. He tangles his fingers into Viktor's and hums, squeezing lightly. A breaking point--]

Do you think so? You know me best.

[A true thing, actually, one he's thought before in purely saccharine terms and never put into proper words. Only Camilla would have him beat, and until she comes out of the sea... well. Anyway.]

I think I had some questions answered in the exact ways I'd hoped they wouldn't be.

[viktor snorts softly at that laugh, running his thumb along pal's as he considers. a breaking point, it did seem the most concise way of putting it. after a beat he says,] For a long time it feels there has been a pressure, in the neutrality you give certain matters, in how you try to offer people the tools to help themselves but, perhaps, see those tools thrown aside for easier paths.

I do not know, I have simply noticed a strain, I suppose. [he settles back a little against the couch, ready to say more when there's a knock. he untangles with a kiss to pal's forehead like an apology, using rio rather than his cane to get to the door.

abigail brushes off him trying to take the tray, moving in to place it on the low table near the couch, chipped teacups and some sort of little cakes she points at pal then viktor and says 'eat, the plate best be cleaned,' before she is off with the sort of oath on a woman raised by fishermen would say under her breath.

viktor returns, amused despite himself, more that abigail maybe has started taking to pal. he settles beside him, pressed up close again.]

[Ah - and he's left to think about his egregious attempts at neutrality, the strain, while Viktor tries (and fails, damn) to cut Abigail off at the door. He manages to give her a grateful smile, at least, before she's turned and left them alone again, and he's quick to lean back into Viktor much the same as before. Maybe a touch less desperate; but close.]

No; you're probably right. I can't see past my own nose, I know.

[He's tried to remain neutral? To not spread gossip (outside of to Viktor, which, come on, of course), to offer advice and aid without pushing. No one has ever learned best by being pressured into picking one person's viewpoint over another, and yet.

Should he have? Pushed. He doesn't know. It wasn't his place.

He makes an aggravated kind of grunt and reaches for a crummy little teacup, currently the most beautiful teacup he's ever seen because it's here, and not on that goddamn boat.]

You could say I'm figuring out with whom I have irreconcilable differences in the coming... however long it takes. [huff!] That's still too neutral, isn't it?

I do not think it is so simple, you would be a terrible Master Warden if so. [he wraps an arm around pal's waist, ignoring their shared vague dampness from the rain as he considers.] You do not jump to conclusions, perhaps. It is a good trait typically.

[he watches the steam from the teacup, more so pal's hands (and the Ring, which still sends a thrill through him, ridiculous) as they handle it.

rio settles at their feet with a little huff not unlike pal's and viktor rests his chin on pal's shoulder as he answers, maybe bluntly,] It is. The eh, the not jumping to conclusions. Sometimes you must make decisions based on incomplete data, as you well know.

Harder in interpersonal relationships, of course. [he reaches over to tap pal's ring, making it spin with a faintly satisfied smile.] I suppose it depends on why you have been neutral. I have always assumed it was partially for safety.

I make decisions, [he mutters, an objection without any heat in it. He doesn't stand around with his fingers in his ears doing nothing, which is clearly the only other option, hm. Still! Decisions are made, and regularly, too.]

I don't make decisions for other people. For my own part in... being involved with that house, I assumed I could simply stop coming around and my presence wouldn't be missed. [By That Guy, he doesn't specify; it's implied.] You have to understand: when I woke up here the second time, five weeks had passed— in the space of my untimely demise, the dynamics shifted. They seemed to be faring better, despite my misgivings; I wasn't about to tell a handful of upset teenagers that they should move out of a comfortable home because I said so.

[Or even with good reason; he'd had this argument with himself already, when first speaking to Paul again, looking at him thriving and no longer living in literal squatter conditions— had let Harrow's attachment and Gideon's involvement slide as manageable from the inside, without a second control freak in the mix.

Finally, he remembers to sip the tea. Hmm.]

I don't honestly care what the Emperor thinks of me, personally. But I'm not fool enough to poke the bear, so I kept my mouth shut. He could hardly stand you knowing something so unimportant to anyone else in this place who didn't already know— [He shakes his head.] Of course there was an eye for safety in it. If anyone touches you, all prior stalemates are over. As for the others, I hadn't intended to...

[Force their hands? Push them into the arms of Papa God who is Nice Now, Really? Be a hypocrite? There are options.]

Well, it's gone sideways now. If you'd like a third reason, I really could not be bothered inviting the whole "group chat" [he does the quotes, around the teacup] into my business.

I suppose that is what I mean. You watched the situation, incomplete data. Coming back to them in a seemingly better state than you would have assumed required further consideration, yes?

[which, frankly, he doesn't think was the wrong move regardless.

he listens though, rolls his eyes at a certain, obvious part about unimportant knowledge and the reaction to it. a snort at the finale.]

What happened exactly? We do not need to speak of it now, if you wish, but it is hard to say if they are misguided or monstrous at his side.

[which makes a difference.] I can say it seems you have grown beyond the negligible comforts of home and it's familiarity in ways they have not.

Have I? Does that mean you'll quit hassling me about the absurd monochrome at every opportunity? I think this is your shirt.

[It's whatever he grabbed from the pile of Clean Laundry, but upon further inspection, this looks like it was once a grey t-shirt with a funny screenprint on it, before someone who doesn't know how to do laundry (Palamedes) was asked to do laundry (oopsie). He plucks at the front of it, left-handed— ah, and the ring is fairly beyond the familiarity of home, too. Truly, this is growth.

He sips the tea again, settling back in close to think about... What Happened.]

The Emperor wanted to, I suppose, punch a hole in the universe to get at the River. He asked them to capture and murder a crew of Trench pirates. [sssssip.] Paul was... making a case, I think, when Ortus pushed me over the side.

[Which they could assume means maybe murder didn't happen, but:] That was before the storm started. I imagine he got his free swing in before Marianna responded.

Absolutely not. You make such a good face every time I do. Right here- [ah saccharine and gross, he presses a kiss to pal's forehead, where it may or may not scrunch when told about his grey crimes.] The furrow. It is excellent.

And the shirt looks good on you. [the moment of levity is nice, and it's true.

he finally picks his own tea cup up, leaning over pal to do so and careful not to spill it. it's more to warm his hands as he listens, a grimace and-] Gods above, this is exactly the kind of situation I feared when I spoke with Ortus about him. You do not leash a man used to power and consuming life to get it and expect him not to pull some abhorrent nonsense like this.

[he waves a hand, like blowing the jod stink away, refocusing.] I see. So, I have no doubt Ortus was against this, his actions speak for him as much as his character. It is the rest I cannot say.

[another crack of thunder, windows rattling. yeah. murder happened.] I think I see, the 'breaking point,' as it were. [he glances over.] Palamedes, whatever you wish to do now I support you. No careful dissection of the matter needed, it is as simple as that.

[Oh, he is furrowing. To be called out on his grey crimes, in the face of Viktor's own t-shirt? How could he. Thanks, but how could he.]

Hm, unless he was hoping I would drown. [Haha, no, not even absurd enough to be a joke, so he instantly follows that up with,] I owe him a great deal, obviously. What do you give someone for saving your life? A 'greeting card'?

[That's not a bit, he's serious; he would like to show Ortus his thanks and maybe also go over there just to see if Ortus is alright? That shed is truly... well. The sort of squatter conditions he was glad to see Paul leave, so.

Pencil it in. He hums over his next sip of tea, wondering - but no, Viktor is right, what happened on that boat was definitely something of a last straw for fussing around "neutrally." Viktor offers him his unconditional support and Palamedes feels some new shade of madly in love over that, ah, saccharine, but more than that: simple, no dissection needed. No this side or that side or prodding him to spill the information he's collected for so and so's advantage...]

I want to finish my tea, [he says, after a moment, not flippantly.] And then I want to have one of those cakes, to earn Abigail's elusive favor. Let's stay here for a few days, if we can; admittedly, much earlier than planned.

[viktor looks incredibly pleased at the furrowing, pal is just rewarding him at this point. he takes a sip of his tea and makes a face, mostly because he didn't bother putting anything in it but still.]

Fruit basket. [instant answer. of all the shit people sent the lab in thanks or attention grabbing those were viktor's favorite, is why.] Sometimes they cut the fruit to look like flowers, put them on sticks.

[light heartedness aside he offers,] Or help finding a new place to live. I very much hope he will move away from that place now.

[he puts the tea back on the tray, resting his head on pal's shoulder as he considers this list. a good one, time to let this all settle and stay away from gaze and the fall out.] I'll ask Allen, then fill him in on the basics. The beasts will likely be riled by all this. [a sigh] It will be pleasant though. Like eh, like a vacation.

[half joke half not. hot nerd summer.]

That sounds... whimsical. Do we have to cut the fruit ourselves?

[Palamedes could make some really cool and accurate organ-shaped fruit pieces, but probably better to leave that to a- professional? Professional fruit-cutter? It cannot be stated enough that he's never heard of this concept and finds it absolutely bonkers, but in a cute and fun way, at least. A fruit basket...]

Let's bring him a basket of fruit with a picture of a house inside; subtlety is key.

[Ha ha. Maybe consider the house picture though. That's for later; for now, mm - the beasts are certainly already riled in the ocean, that's for sure. He believes it will spread, and with plenty locals already seeming... off, more corruption-prone, everyone here is going to have a lot to contend with, huh.

He says, in his patented 'I know you've probably guessed this already, buuuut' tone:] I've never been on a vacation.

Hm... probably? Unless someone offers gift baskets in the Trench. [thoughtful. he wouldn't be shocked either way, honestly, the trench is like that. he does kind of hope pal has to do this because the idea of what he'll make is delightful.

not that viktor won't help. he is in ortus' death for sparing pal this and potentially saving his life.]

Oh, very subtle. How did that get there? Well while we're on the subject... [he says as he reaches over to grab one of the small cakes and offering it to pal. he said he wanted one, see.

it would be very easy to dwell on a lot of things- like how the windows rattle dangerously, or corruption levels including pal's, etc. much better to huff a soft laugh for the moment, at the shock of pal never having been on vacation. wow. incredible surprise.

and immediately on his List. maybe one day, he thinks, they can go somewhere nice. maybe.] I'm not sure I have either, to be fair. Picture this, taking time off work willingly to lounge about for several days, doing only things you like- that are not work related, that is.

[he'd make a joke about it often being on the beach but. well. too soon.]

I'll learn to make flower shapes, if I must. The work is never finished.

[So world-weary, this young necromancer. No, he's going to make skull shapes and anatomically correct hearts and livers and so on, it'll be great. If they're running low on fruit, the skull can even be jawless! Tada!

All very subtle, indeed. He takes the little cake and immediately questions his profession to want to eat this, hm, actually— no, no. He'll nibble. He's nibbling.]

So no lasers, either? [If they're both banned from work and work-adjacent things, on this vacation... Seems like a buzzkill, actually, but the concept of sitting around stress-free for several days itself is fairly appealing right now.

He has eaten a whole corner of the little cake. He's really into vacations.]

We could work on the book. I'll craft an intricate series of plot twists, and you can keep me honest about how many actually make sense.

[And when he gets in his head and wonders if he should go back to get mired in Empire business, but that's a downer.]

I very much look forward to seeing this attempt. [and probably supervising, he isn't sure how much pal knows about a. fruit and b. flowers.] Preferably with fruit we already know is safe.

[wow a whole nibble. viktor has another moment of gay, which is mostly watching him with his quirks, finding at endearing, kissing pal's shoulder again to press back the unpleasant feeling of how this could have ended with pal's corpse washing up on shore.

and stays there just for a moment, before huffing a soft sound against pal's shoulder.] No lasers... if I must. I will make that sacrifice for you.

[he might even like it, as it turns out. he liked when they took the day off, he likes doing non-work related things with pal beside him. who is this man.]

We could. I admit I would very much like to know what happens to our two heroes in the end.

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