[viktor can't argue with him, as much as he wants to. part of it is seeing the shape of their shared spiraling for what it is, another is simply no longer having the strength to do so. he's falling apart but the world isn't ending, just tilting a little.
he swallows, fails to bite back a sound he loathes, finally reaches up to cup pal's face himself and kiss him like the answer back to all of that, to the confession lining this entire conversation. kissing gently like he's never done before, shakily, gripped with the nearly overwhelming urge to run before he's lost to this-
and viktor wakes up.
it's with a slow blink, to the sound of rio's quiet trilling she only does when she's concerned. he's struck dumb with conflicting memories, of rio back in the vat but she looks to him from the side of the bed, pink and whole. his hand goes to her head, not metal but flesh. why is she upset?
another blink and he realizes there are tears still rolling down his face. oh. that would be why.
he can't remember the last time he cried. maybe a particularly painful day? not when he got his diagnosis, not seeing rio in the vat right before he ended up here. his attention goes to pal quickly though, voice thick but quiet as he asks,] Palamedes?
[he wants to believe that was just a normal dream, but it was so real. even his hand doesn't feel quite right still, like a phantom limb until he curls his fingers tightly. gods, pal's eyes. what the hell was a lyctor actually?]
no subject
he swallows, fails to bite back a sound he loathes, finally reaches up to cup pal's face himself and kiss him like the answer back to all of that, to the confession lining this entire conversation. kissing gently like he's never done before, shakily, gripped with the nearly overwhelming urge to run before he's lost to this-
and viktor wakes up.
it's with a slow blink, to the sound of rio's quiet trilling she only does when she's concerned. he's struck dumb with conflicting memories, of rio back in the vat but she looks to him from the side of the bed, pink and whole. his hand goes to her head, not metal but flesh. why is she upset?
another blink and he realizes there are tears still rolling down his face. oh. that would be why.
he can't remember the last time he cried. maybe a particularly painful day? not when he got his diagnosis, not seeing rio in the vat right before he ended up here. his attention goes to pal quickly though, voice thick but quiet as he asks,] Palamedes?
[he wants to believe that was just a normal dream, but it was so real. even his hand doesn't feel quite right still, like a phantom limb until he curls his fingers tightly. gods, pal's eyes. what the hell was a lyctor actually?]