Viktor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mehanizovati) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deercountry2022-03-31 12:24 pm
mehanizovati) wrote in deercountry2022-03-31 12:24 pm
april catch - all
Who: viktor and others, open to all with some closed prompts
What: some late march/early april logs, including some tdm stuff. i'm happy to attach something else on if anyone's interest in doing something specific
When: late march through april
Where: various
content warning; terminal illness, arcane season 1 spoilers, likely game typical beast gore/body horror, potentially ableism mentioned, claustrophobic imagery
open prompts.
fishers of dreams - the lighthouse, early april (tdm)
a. while awake
[if you've been roped into this lighthouse business too you may enter to find a man already there. he seems vaguely disgruntled by the business, offers vague greetings but otherwise sticks to scribbling in his notebook. it looks like schematics and formulae, but anyone with an eye for either might notice they tend to trail off and start in odd bursts.
viktor will offer to cook when evening falls (or whatever seems to be the right mealtime in this place) so maybe that is a better time to strike up conversation. the smell coming from the kitchen is heavy on whatever spices the place stocks, promising pain to anyone who doesn't have the stomach for that sort of thing. worse if he finds the rotgut liquor tucked away, which he will pull out and offer despite smelling more like turpentine than anything edible.
these tricks of the eye though, flashes of people vaguely recognizable, he chalks it up more hallucinations. last month was mushrooms, so this? irritating, far more distracting, but it followed the pattern.
it isn't until later in all this he'll track whoever is with him down.] Did you see someone else come through? There, just up the stairs.
b. nightmare
[trying to reach the odd lighthouses is fruitless, the shadows converge and when the dark clears the area seems more closed in than before. it shouldn't be, he was just outside on the shore, yet now the dark sky seems to hang too low, lower still, suffocating.]
What now? This is another illusion of sorts, is it not? One this place is so fond of. [viktor sounds more irritated than anything, maybe defensive since the grip his has on his crutch is white-knuckle tight. in the distance seems to be a lighthouse, though the light is far and the area is so stifling, promising a tunnel that will close and snuff out the light entirely.
it's ridiculous of course, the walls are not that close, certainly not enough for this suffocating grip on the lungs and throat. there's no real explanation, less so when a few steps forward and the ground begins to dot with great metal cables, the distinct, sickly sweet smell of chemicals in the air. there are pools between them where the ocean should have been, this time shallow spills of what could be gasoline or something similar, slick rainbow puddles, oily and difficult to walk through without slipping or sinking.]
(ooc; for this one please, feel free to add your own character's nightmare in any flavor at any point!)
odds and ends - willful machine, early april
[viktor can be found around the vendors often enough, especially those specializing in scrap metal, tools or small machinery. for the most part he doesn't stick out, except for the fact often his massive omen often accompanies him, some sort of huge pink salamander/axolotl that he'll lean against or ask rather politely to help carry larger purchases.
he doesn't seem to notice or care about any attention, though the creature will blink curiously around. feel free to approach or find him haggling rather intently for such a stick of a man, accent thickening when it gets heated enough. maybe you want the same scrap? or are looking for something and he's standing nearby enough to notice a lost look and offers assistance?]
[one might also find him about by the sound of a nasty coughing fit. he stands with his back curled, a rag to his mouth as a makeshift handkerchief. it's a wet cough that shakes his entire frame, and when it's over his sniffs and clears his throat, straightening.
the cloth is stained in a pale color that catches the perpetual moonlight of april. paleblood, that he regards for a moment before folding the cloth in on itself with a small frown.]
closed prompts.
jinx - willful machine, late march
[viktor doesn't stay by the lamp exactly. he would usually but he hardly sees the point when this person he's meeting knows him by sight as far as he can tell. it leaves him feeling comfortable to wander within eyeshot mostly of the lantern, strolling down the canal docks to find a place to stand and watch the boats cut slowly through the water.
he likes it here, he thinks, in this district. the noise and foot traffic, the winding canals and dirty water, the boats bobbing to and fro - it wouldn't be a bad place to set up. a lab that will double as his home because he doesn't see the point in separating the two any longer, even if he can practically hear heimendinger's tutting about his work-life balance in his ear. it will be closer to the vendors, less of a hike to acquire what he'll need to start fresh. first a new brace for his leg and back, then some basic experiments into lunar energy to get a feel for it.
his lungs flare and burn, minor enough he manages to swallow it down without reaching for the rag in his pocket. he makes a note of the severity and timing, adds it to his growing mental list that seems to indicate his illness does indeed remain but is diminished. promising, if he's being optimistic, but at the moment he feels only a sense of irritation that now he doesn't know the timeline of his own life. one he might be shortening drastically with this ridiculous stunt.
a sigh and viktor goes back to watching the boats, trying to clear his head. he considers trying to message vi and ask her opinion of this but... no, he doubts he'll get anything. he's not sure if he disgusts her as a class traitor or amuses her in truth. better to just see for himself what he's gotten himself into like a fool.]
allen - willful machine, early april
[the 'grand tour' doesn't amount to much yet, the lab area just a large, empty space dotted with a few tables and a couple of desks, not even a chalkboard he's been keeping an eye out for or something that could do the same. one of the desks at least is littered with junk, at the moment tools and the starts of a knee brace, a table nearby with all the scrap he's managed to grab that could be useful in the future. one corner has a cot, maybe he'll clear out whatever other small rooms the place has later for a bedroom proper. maybe not.
viktor seems satisfied with it as he gestures around, and rio has commandeered one of the tables for her own to lie across.] A solid start, I think. I like this area, this eh... Willful Machine, that is.
[he'll never admit part of it is the boats. everyone's allowed a sort of childish interest, right? they're soothing, even if they lack the motors that fascinated him.] Have a seat, if you'd like. How have you been since the tombs?
wildcard.
[as i said, feel free to ask for anything else, including other tdm prompts, i am more interested in seeing the worlds built by others for the archway prompts so i didn't include any here. my plurk is![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
dichotomy or you can dm me here!]
What: some late march/early april logs, including some tdm stuff. i'm happy to attach something else on if anyone's interest in doing something specific
When: late march through april
Where: various
content warning; terminal illness, arcane season 1 spoilers, likely game typical beast gore/body horror, potentially ableism mentioned, claustrophobic imagery
open prompts.
fishers of dreams - the lighthouse, early april (tdm)
a. while awake
[if you've been roped into this lighthouse business too you may enter to find a man already there. he seems vaguely disgruntled by the business, offers vague greetings but otherwise sticks to scribbling in his notebook. it looks like schematics and formulae, but anyone with an eye for either might notice they tend to trail off and start in odd bursts.
viktor will offer to cook when evening falls (or whatever seems to be the right mealtime in this place) so maybe that is a better time to strike up conversation. the smell coming from the kitchen is heavy on whatever spices the place stocks, promising pain to anyone who doesn't have the stomach for that sort of thing. worse if he finds the rotgut liquor tucked away, which he will pull out and offer despite smelling more like turpentine than anything edible.
these tricks of the eye though, flashes of people vaguely recognizable, he chalks it up more hallucinations. last month was mushrooms, so this? irritating, far more distracting, but it followed the pattern.
it isn't until later in all this he'll track whoever is with him down.] Did you see someone else come through? There, just up the stairs.
b. nightmare
[trying to reach the odd lighthouses is fruitless, the shadows converge and when the dark clears the area seems more closed in than before. it shouldn't be, he was just outside on the shore, yet now the dark sky seems to hang too low, lower still, suffocating.]
What now? This is another illusion of sorts, is it not? One this place is so fond of. [viktor sounds more irritated than anything, maybe defensive since the grip his has on his crutch is white-knuckle tight. in the distance seems to be a lighthouse, though the light is far and the area is so stifling, promising a tunnel that will close and snuff out the light entirely.
it's ridiculous of course, the walls are not that close, certainly not enough for this suffocating grip on the lungs and throat. there's no real explanation, less so when a few steps forward and the ground begins to dot with great metal cables, the distinct, sickly sweet smell of chemicals in the air. there are pools between them where the ocean should have been, this time shallow spills of what could be gasoline or something similar, slick rainbow puddles, oily and difficult to walk through without slipping or sinking.]
(ooc; for this one please, feel free to add your own character's nightmare in any flavor at any point!)
odds and ends - willful machine, early april
[viktor can be found around the vendors often enough, especially those specializing in scrap metal, tools or small machinery. for the most part he doesn't stick out, except for the fact often his massive omen often accompanies him, some sort of huge pink salamander/axolotl that he'll lean against or ask rather politely to help carry larger purchases.
he doesn't seem to notice or care about any attention, though the creature will blink curiously around. feel free to approach or find him haggling rather intently for such a stick of a man, accent thickening when it gets heated enough. maybe you want the same scrap? or are looking for something and he's standing nearby enough to notice a lost look and offers assistance?]
[one might also find him about by the sound of a nasty coughing fit. he stands with his back curled, a rag to his mouth as a makeshift handkerchief. it's a wet cough that shakes his entire frame, and when it's over his sniffs and clears his throat, straightening.
the cloth is stained in a pale color that catches the perpetual moonlight of april. paleblood, that he regards for a moment before folding the cloth in on itself with a small frown.]
closed prompts.
jinx - willful machine, late march
[viktor doesn't stay by the lamp exactly. he would usually but he hardly sees the point when this person he's meeting knows him by sight as far as he can tell. it leaves him feeling comfortable to wander within eyeshot mostly of the lantern, strolling down the canal docks to find a place to stand and watch the boats cut slowly through the water.
he likes it here, he thinks, in this district. the noise and foot traffic, the winding canals and dirty water, the boats bobbing to and fro - it wouldn't be a bad place to set up. a lab that will double as his home because he doesn't see the point in separating the two any longer, even if he can practically hear heimendinger's tutting about his work-life balance in his ear. it will be closer to the vendors, less of a hike to acquire what he'll need to start fresh. first a new brace for his leg and back, then some basic experiments into lunar energy to get a feel for it.
his lungs flare and burn, minor enough he manages to swallow it down without reaching for the rag in his pocket. he makes a note of the severity and timing, adds it to his growing mental list that seems to indicate his illness does indeed remain but is diminished. promising, if he's being optimistic, but at the moment he feels only a sense of irritation that now he doesn't know the timeline of his own life. one he might be shortening drastically with this ridiculous stunt.
a sigh and viktor goes back to watching the boats, trying to clear his head. he considers trying to message vi and ask her opinion of this but... no, he doubts he'll get anything. he's not sure if he disgusts her as a class traitor or amuses her in truth. better to just see for himself what he's gotten himself into like a fool.]
allen - willful machine, early april
[the 'grand tour' doesn't amount to much yet, the lab area just a large, empty space dotted with a few tables and a couple of desks, not even a chalkboard he's been keeping an eye out for or something that could do the same. one of the desks at least is littered with junk, at the moment tools and the starts of a knee brace, a table nearby with all the scrap he's managed to grab that could be useful in the future. one corner has a cot, maybe he'll clear out whatever other small rooms the place has later for a bedroom proper. maybe not.
viktor seems satisfied with it as he gestures around, and rio has commandeered one of the tables for her own to lie across.] A solid start, I think. I like this area, this eh... Willful Machine, that is.
[he'll never admit part of it is the boats. everyone's allowed a sort of childish interest, right? they're soothing, even if they lack the motors that fascinated him.] Have a seat, if you'd like. How have you been since the tombs?
wildcard.
[as i said, feel free to ask for anything else, including other tdm prompts, i am more interested in seeing the worlds built by others for the archway prompts so i didn't include any here. my plurk is
no subject
Though that might also be from being of an era and lifestyle of someone who can't really understand the fascination with an internet and the way people use it. ]
Todoroki Shouto. [ And he draws an imaginary line right down the middle of his hair. ] He's hard to miss. White hair on one side and red on the other.
[ Also, is he using his name backwards and presumed the wrong first name? Yeah. Yeah he is. He's British, Vatican influence made all Eastern individuals he knew (except Kanda, but Kanda is weird) use Western order, and Japan was obliterated along with most of its culture in his world.
-- and that's how Shouto introduced himself and hasn't corrected him yet. It's not his fault!!! ]
He can seem a little standoffish at first but he's really kind.
no subject
Do you think he'd be interested in helping us? At some point we will have to deal with actively corrupted individuals, and while I am sure you can hold your own I would prefer if you also had back up. [which is something viktor's been considering, if he should make himself a proper weapon or not. he doesn't like the idea but he's not naive, certainly not in matters of self defense.]
no subject
He shakes his head slightly, focusing on answering. ] Mn, I think so.
[ No, in fact-- ]
I know he would. [ Not to speak for him, but... he had the right kind of heart. That's the sort of thing Allen picks up on. Although this would be something he would protest, that he needs to work with/endanger another person who might be more susceptible to corruption than he is. But... he has worked with Shouto before. Not fought with, exactly, but used both of their abilities and seen the other in action enough that the idea is natural to Allen. Comfortable, actually. Despite always wanting to be the one endangering himself instead of others.
Exorcists usually worked in teams, after all. ]
no subject
[it makes him wonder if anyone from allen's world is here and allen simply doesn't remember enough to know. a depressing thought, honestly, hence why he decides not to voice it.
allen seems sure of this man (boy? maybe he's another teen? so many teenagers here, having to fight.) he considers it as he finishes his drink, placing the cup to the side for rio to sniff at as he pulls himself up by the crutch.] I look forward to meeting him then, you seem to think highly of him.
no subject
...could that mean he's missing people from his own he might know? It's a worming, painful sort of thought he immediately has to push down.
Although the comment catches Allen a little off guard. Think highly? Ah, does he? Well of course he does. ]
Oh -- mn. He's the one who first found me when I washed up on the beach. Where he came from, people like him are professional "heroes" who help protect people.
From everything I've seen he tries to keep doing that here.
[ In his opinion, a far more capable man than him. ]
no subject
still he nods, hand to his chin as he considers.] It's interesting the variety of people who end up here. I have met some who seem civilian in every way and others who baffle me with their power. I wonder if there is a rhyme and reason in the madness.
[he shakes his head again before looking to allen.] Would you mind coming with me on an errand? I'd like to continue our talk but I've also been meaning to get some more incense, I'd like to do so before it gets too late.
no subject
...just how many "worlds" are there that they all remember? ]
An errand? Sure, I don't mind. [ It's the best way he figures he can help, especially while Viktor is getting started. So please...!
He quickly finishes off the last of his sweetmilk and goes to rinse it and put it back by the pot. He has manners -- when it comes to being respectful of other people. ]
Where do you usually get it? Disciple's Defense? [ There's also the shop cart that brings it to the nearby Architect Market, but he's not sure if it would still be there at this hour. Maybe? ]
no subject
he watches allen clean up after himself, a small smile as rio hops down from the table to stand and plod over to 'help.' aka she bumps a cabinet closed for allen, pretty useless but she seems happy with herself. viktor chuckles to himself as he heads to the door.]
If you'd like I'll make you a key for this place. It is firstly a lab for our joint research. [he points out, holding the door open for allen to come outside with him, rio bounding ahead, excited to get outside and See Things.]
1/2
Although Timcanpy bumps his shoulder rather earnestly in response to that, and he laughs slightly and cups him to his cheek as he follows Viktor out the door. Does he get a little jealous? Absolutely. ]
-- eh? [ wait. he was distracted with the omens
Wait, that... ]
2/2
"Our" joint research. As if equals partners in it. Which is knows that's what Viktor said before, that they were partners in it, but Allen... honestly still can't see himself that way. Just that he's going to do everything he can to help the man. For a legacy that involves helping better the lives of others suffering from this world, and to directly help as many others as he can as well. He's just...
...he's just himself, after all. ]
...um! [ That's--! Ah.. Words are hard right now, Viktor. He blinks rapidly for a moment, like he feels a sting that might overflow otherwise. ]
--yes! [ he blurts it a little when he finally speaks ] I... that'd be nice. I'd really appreciate it. [ His voice? A little cracked, yes.
He's never had a key to anywhere that wasn't an inn room before. ]
no subject
he doubts it's entirely the same but he thinks it could be born from something similar, and at the very least he is very glad he made the offer. he couldn't even call it on a whim, he always planned for as much. allen deserved unlimited access to their research, that wouldn't exist without him.
he pats allen's shoulder once- jayce always did something similar, and viktor found it effective in conveying what could not be said.] Hm, come over sometime later this week then and I'll have the key for you. You're welcome to eh... 'crash' here as well, if you'd like, should you need to.
[he considers asking where allen is staying exactly as he closes the door behind them, slotting in the key. unfortunately as he's pulling it out his lungs burn, forcing him to grab for one of the rags he keeps in his pocket to begin hacking into it.
unpleasantly wet coughs at that, making rio trot close to help support him. when he pulls back to breathe there's pale, shimmering blood in the moonlight staining the rag, the faint smell of milk coming from it. if anyone didn't know better you'd think his drink just came back up.]
1/2
It's close to a concept of "home". That's why his expression is so very stunned and quiet. ]
2/2
Viktor! [ Panicked and unsure what's come over him, he's at his side in a moment with a hand on his back to support as he coughs.
It means he also sees what's on the rag as soon Viktor pulls back, and why he goes so very still at it. ]
Is that... blood?
[ He says it even as he knows it is. Paleblood, like his. And it brings a crashing of reality at what that implies-- and the fear suddenly that blood. That's bad to shed at night especially. ]
Is... that because...?
no subject
he folds the rag to try and cover the blood, wiping at the corners of his mouth as he hoarsely offers,] Apologies. Yes, it's ah... my illness.
[another grimace, though he offers allen what he hopes is a reassuring smile that comes out humorless. the last thing the teen needs is more worries in his life.
speaking of those worries there's a rattling howl that pierces the air shortly after he speaks. it's close, clearly just around the bend of the alley the door is nestled into. viktor straightens, grip tightening on the rag as he glances to allen in alarm.]
no subject
Like a familiar nightmare "hello". ]
Viktor... [ His expression is like something just switched on. A hyperaware state somewhere between calm, panic, and knowing... Because his left eye has suddenly washed black, bleeding throughout the sclera as the iris narrows and becomes glowing blood red rings that shift and focus in and out. Seeking.
His demeanor switches and he throws himself in front of the other man, between him and the direction of that, a beast, his eye can feel it, flinging an arm out in protective warning and an uncharacteristically commanding bark. ]
Get back inside!
no subject
the beast is large enough the clothes it once wore are mostly torn around it's wrist and ankles, skin slick, beading blood in an oozing mass like sweat. the jawline is unnaturally long even for such a large head, and when it opens its mouth to scream at them the rows of teeth remind viktor more of a shark, or the nightmare of a shark.
he grimaces as he leans down to grab the key he dropped, heart pounding in his throat, threatening to push him to another coughing fit that would only make things worse. he silently prays allen can handle this, if he led a monster to them just for allen to suffer for it- it isn't a matter he can think of, just grabbing the key as the beast stalks closer, sniffing the air with obvious intent of a predator.]
no subject
He presses his mouth together grimly though, hearing Viktor wracked by coughs again as he balls his hands into fists at his side. This is bad. It's really bad to try and fight here around Viktor, but there isn't much of a choice. Escaping isn't an option for him either, not now that there's a beast in front of him, not when it's one with—
He breathes out, in a calm and steadying sort of way. Just for a moment, like finding some inner serenity before he raises his head and his eye focused in on the bloated shark-like remains of a person — and then he's leapt forward in a rustle of luminescence that leaves fragments of featherlike light in the air. Like snowflakes in his wake, in a rush of air that smells clean and wintery, thin and faintly ozone like an approaching storm.
Or like magic.
A magic that settles around his shoulders in the form of a giant feathered cowl that sits like condensed moonlight, trailing off into a massive cloak that ends in long feathered edges like half-formed wings. The effect multiplied by having leapt clear above and beyond the beast, seeming to perch for a moment as lightly as a moth against the side of the building overhead in complete defiance to gravity.
Or that his weight is also held in place by the massive clawed hand he has for his left arm now, pale golden-white glowing claws as large as a man's forearm biting into the brickwork behind him. Beautifully delicate and wickedly sharp, like crystalized paleblood itself, and adorned in gold and with a crown around his wrist. ]
Please forgive me— [ It's still very gentle, his voice.
Apologetic, even as he brings his clawed hand up as it suffuses with a golden-white light -- and drops down on it like a stone palm first. ]
—for this!
no subject
maybe it's just adrenaline, or panic. gods know there's plenty of reason to with what's happening before him.
from the new angle maybe allen can better focus on the soul of the creature before him, as unfortunate as it is. the shape if vaguely humanoid, half a face that seems to have been a woman once, bloated horror in the steady jittery movement of her mouth and jagged, broken teeth. so much else of her is stretched out, sharp edges like something grew under a vaguely human form in the dark depths, grew long and longer still as it curls in on itself, growth beyond what it should have, beyond reason, growth simply for the sake of it. little, wiggling things like parasites make a feast, toothless maws eating greedily what keeps growing without a care.
c c co co ld colcoldcoldcold the teeth snap and shiver around the words, more a garble than sensible.
the massive creature reaches up to grab at the light, as if it could block it, instead shrieking when it simply rips through its arm. the smell is more horrific still, and even without an arm the creature immediately swings its barnacled fist straight to allens chest.
he might also want to avoid the terrible little worms that drip out the wound, those look like they actually do have teeth and quite a nasty bite. ]
no subject
-- and riding a giant luminescent broadsword down instead, cleaving through its arm that way. As long as he is and almost as broad, it slams down into the ground with a weight that seems more than his own light frame. It's a human beast, he realizes after all, breath coming with a slight puff as he rounds back around to meet what will surely be an incoming attack. Because of that, because he doesn't understand fully yet -- he can't risk what his claws might do to the human body still within somewhere...
The sword, after all, can only cut that which is "evil"; corruption. Not the human part.
Unfortunately, because he adjusted for his sword last minute and attacked so heavily with it, because he's now left one-armed, as discernable from how his cloak has draped flatly along his left shoulder now, obscuring it... he fails to bring his sword fully around in time to use it as a shield. It impacts his chest just below that mask, wet and solid, and he's staggered with a sharp and pained inhalation. Shit.
Which is to say no, he hasn't noticed the horror that is the parasitic, maggot-like worms dripping from it now. ]
no subject
he'd love to ask him if there wasn't a rampaging beast to worry about.
rampaging is a good word for it, with its arm detached the creature is all but flailing, slamming against the ground and any surface it can manage. it sends the horrible, parasitic things flying as it does, as it narrowly misses and possibly hits allen again, finally refocusing- but this time on easier prey.
it lunges for viktor, who still has a kerchief to his mouth and wet coughs spasming through him, the creatures massive mouth open wide and intent to just snatch him up in them. rio stands guard with a hiss, useless but still trying to keep the thing away from her human.]
no subject
And of course those parasites are being flung through the air like drops of blood. One splatters heavy and wet against his cheek, and he's momentarily confused by why it seems to be clinging there but is too distracted to think about it.
But then he feels pain, like something bit him. And then he feels pain as it begins to burrow into his skin and he screams, staggering back for a moment as he reels and tries to brush the offending thing off with the back of his wrist. It's -- ugh...
It pulses, pumping its corruption directly into his cheek. And his eyes snap open wide at that despite the pain, his cloak suddenly curling, writhing like an angry living thing and beginning to lose its shape. Wild feathers; winglike. Angry. And his left eye--
It snaps back to the creature. To its soul like it's independent of Allen; like it's seeking. Faintly translucent gears shift around it with a black energy, like a lens being focused, and he breathes out as her voice suddenly seems to get so loud. coldcoldcoldcold--
"Help... me..."
What he doesn't realize... the moment that corruption washed through him, the moment his eye moved independently -- like the time it evolved and he briefly lost control of it...
Viktor can now see and hear what he does. The soul laid bare, turned in on itself and sobbing.
Seeing it turn and menace the older man though, he tenses with a sudden, alarmed rage -- and turns to bash the side of his face against the brick wall he'd stumbled back against with a frustrated yell. Crushing that bloody shitty thing he can't properly wipe out while one-armed with a sword, and then pushing off to leap at the creature. To land, light as an acrobat and tall with his boots on its shoulders, twist his wrist around in a way that has his sword spin in a great circle and comes to bear --
-- and stabs it down with unrelenting force into the core of the beast. ]
no subject
his eyes go to allen, shocked anew at whatever hell is happening to his cloak- it seems alive clearly it must be magic of some sort but what? and why is it reacting this way? what did the creature do? his gaze turns to the creature and-
oh.
viktor is not a man with a weak stomach. he's seen violence and death and desperation since a very young age, grew up with it, knows intimately how the body fails and deteriorates. he's seen horrible things here that have barely made him bat an eye because he can cling to logic, to moving forward. he isn't a person easily shaken by the grotesque.
this staggers him. it's horrific in a way viktor never imagine, so viscerally wrong he feels his stomach churn and his skin go clammy, looking at what was a person- is a person- writhing and distorted down to their most basic level. down to an integral piece of them that shouldn't be touchable and yet.
it's coming right for him and he's frozen in place by the sight, only moved to any sort of action when his bad knee buckles and he falls to it, hissing and glancing up again in time to see allen deliver that final blow.
for a moment there is such silence, the only sound that like a long sigh. it takes a moment for viktor to recognize it coming from the beast as it seems to start melting, chunks of it giving way to the curled, unconscious form of what looks like a middle aged woman just stuck in the middle of the muck that deteriorates further with each passing rattle of her chest.
it takes viktor several seconds to just process before he's cursing and pushing himself up, ignoring his crutch entirely to use the wall as support. he glances over the woman but his eyes go to allen, shaking as he asks,]
Allen? Are you alright?
no subject
He breathes out a little shakily, pulling his sword from where it had also pierced her form, but leaves her flesh entirely unharmed. It would feel like the strangest sort of sensation of something passing through your body, but entirely without pain.
And gentle. Kind, and cleansing.
He looks to Viktor, taking in his condition before he gives a shaky sort of relieved nod and kneels, checking on the woman as he returns his sword to his arm in another small burst of transformative light. ]
Aah. I think... it's only something minor. [ The bite on his cheek and the pale luminescent blood that's coming from it. His left eye isn't calming down though, still swirling with a dark energy, his cloak twisting about like a writhing mass of angelic retribution, so he'll have to purge his own corruption in a moment. But first he reaches out to touch the woman's shoulder gently with his right hand, even if his own eyes are a little unfocused. ]
Miss...? Are you okay?
no subject
enough to say confidently,] She's merely passed out. Everything seems fine otherwise, her breathing and heart rate are good, her responses are consistent. I think... you really did manage to cure her.
[which is everything they want. to see it done is remarkable, it means they can do this if they can just push to figure out a better, easier way, a more wide spread way-
his attention turns back to allen, putting that aside for now.] Help me get her into the lab? She can rest on my cot while I take a look at you.
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Thank goodness... [ Breathing out first, he raises his eyes to meet Viktor's and gives a small nod. You don't have to look at him, please look at her, is left unsaid, but he isn't going to argue. He feels too feverish to.
He's tired, he still needs to do something about his own corruption that spiked, but -- he dips down to scoop the woman up into his arms. Very carefully, mindful that he has to keep his left hand turned away to keep the bladed fingers away from her, but he is quite used to having to do so and using his wrist more than his palm.
He rises back to his feet, if a touch unsteadily. ]
If you can get the door...? [ He'll follow inside with her then, and lay her out gently on the cot. ]
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