deercountry | april catch

Entry tags:

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

dichotomy or you can dm me here!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[when viktor gets the message from pal he's a little surprised that he's excited. it's not really shocking he's eager but he's simply not the sort of person who went out to see a friend. jayce usually had to coax him when they would, and even then he preferred simply bringing food back to the lab or going to the academy cafeteria. the general atmosphere and mindset of piltover made hermiting the logical choice. they had no interest in seeing him and he felt much the same.

even when he first came here he realized quickly how little he had in terms of people he left behind. jayce, heimendinger, sky- that was it. a little humbling, and he thinks maybe here he could at least try to make a better effort at socializing. so far it's been surprisingly rewarding.

he does go to gaze on occasion but doesn't know it as well as the willful machine. it's easier with rio to lean against, keeping an eye out as he makes his way around. he squints at the message pal sent again, looks up to try and figure out the landmark in question to find this... bunker? clever really, given the state of the world. he'd probably do to have a more secure area for his lab, but he rather liked the decrepit old storage building.]

I believe I am here?

[that's what he sends when he finds the landmark, holding up his omni to take a picture and show as much to pal.]

[On some level, Palamedes realizes his, ah, fun little home is not the ideal place to have guests. He and Camilla chose it for its out-of-the-way quality (that Sixth cageyness) and its delightful lack of direct sunlight (when applicable), not because they ever intended to have anyone else come and visit. Even the Ninth nearby haven't ventured inside — so hopefully his oddball directions and descriptions of landmarks will help Viktor find the place.

Palamedes has decided to Make Snacks, which here means he remembers a dessert the Fifth had served the lot of them that was mostly, mm, cream and sugar and fruit, and he supposes that's both easy enough to replicate and sweet enough to seem very fun and unique compared to his other idea, which was plain biscuits. It also means he has, in the past day or so, acquired more sugar than he will ever need, but whatever; snacks. The whole of it is putting the ingredients into a bowl, but Palamedes doesn't cook?

He feels kind of jack-of-all-trades about it, privately. The fruit is pomegranate seeds. It's fancy.

All this to say: he is not bleeding everywhere while doing this snack thing and waiting for Viktor to arrive, and so when he hauls the heavy bunker door aside to stick his head out and squint around for him, he does it with clean hands. Small mercies. First:]

Nailed it. I'll meet you, stay put.

[Which is only polite, given he lives underground and it's already dark. The bunker entrance is not far from the landmark - Viktor probably could have heard him open the door, honestly - but Palamedes trots out to wave once he's seen him.]

There you are — and on the first try, too. [haha] Come on, d'you like fruit? There is fruit in the snack.

[Please come and see his bunker, which is lit by naked lightbulbs strung up around the ceiling that illuminate the place just enough for it to still be a little dim. It's clear that the furnishings here were very much picked for two people and two people only, down to an earnest bunkbed pushed all the way into the back and the tiny couch opposite what passes for a miniature kitchen. The small "kitchen" table is covered in books and papers save for a space cleared out to eat, and like he said: he's been wallpapering with his own notes. It's yet to dominate the whole space, but it's a solid chunk.]

[rio certainly hears the door, trilling a greeting that viktor mirrors with a raised hand. he stuffs his omni in his pocket, offers a smile when they're face to face.]

Eh, you should see where I am from. Natural sunlight is rare in the undercity, you get used to adjusting your eyes quickly. [also they love their weird buildings in weird places. not exactly bunker quality, usually. a game of 'spot the vague landmark in the dark' is almost nostalgic.

he follows inside, rio bounding ahead in a way that makes him offer a sheepish look.] Apologies, she is the curious sort. [and as for snacks?] Oh, I love fruit. What kind?

[never had it much in zaun, one of his favorite things about piltover was the easy access to fresh fruit. sweet tooth, what can he say? pal nailed it with the snack.

he takes a good look around, a little surprised with how humble it is. he probably shouldn't be, this place hardly had luxury in abundance, but he's still used to someone from any sort of House living somewhat well, used to certain comforts they try to replicate. the bunkbed especially catches his eye, and he asks,] Did... Camille, yes? Did she live here with you?

[he hopes it's not a sore spot, given her departure. oh, but sorry immediately going over to look at those notes on the wall.]

Sunlight on the Sixth would kill us, [a normal thing to say, as he watches Rio zip right ahead. She's still cute, he's allowing it... surely Viktor's very own Omen won't lick everything, or whatever her type of animal does? Palamedes is fine with this.

He drags the door shut again and slides a deadbolt closed before beelining over to his Snacks. This worked out perfectly, considering he only owns two of any given tableware...

And there goes Viktor off to the notes, hah. Palamedes follows a pace or so behind, to deliver snacks; the notes are more of what's in his notebook, some earlier drafts hung up in a section he's labeled "UNLIKELY/REVISED" and some expansions on darkblood facts, too. As he nudges Viktor's shoulder with the back of his hand, holding a bowl-with-spoon out for him:]

Red seed apple, [yeap] or what looked close enough. I cheated — the Fifth made this the first time I tried it, but here, see how I did.

[It's fruit and sweet cream and sugar on top, it's delicious, but humor him.]

Camilla had the top bunk, "in case the books spill everywhere." [the other one sure does have more books stacked around the edges, fancy that] Living together is kind of a given necromancer-cavalier thing.

[thankfully she does not lick anything, but she does immediately decide to stick her big head into and at anything that interests her. which is everything. at least she seems to be having a good time of it and hasn't knocked anything over, which is more than viktor (or singed) can say of his own lab with her sometimes.]

How so? [he asks about sunlight and the Sixth, unsure of what that meant. so far he just took the Sixth being an odd name for a higher house in pal's world. boy is he in for a surprise.

he glances over reluctantly from the notes, rewarded with a bowl that he is more than happy to take.] I've never seen any fruit like this. [he moves the spoon around a little to examine it before scooping up a good mix of it and taking a bite.

the sound he makes is immediately one of approval, so congratulations, snacks were a rousing success. he takes another before he reminds himself it's probably rude and nods, offering a quite genuine smile rather than the usual quirks and dry edged ones.] This is excellent, I am very glad you cheated.

Between us I prefer sweet things. I get teased relentlessly for it. [he informs seriously, even if the smile is still tugging at his lips.

he considers the room again as he says,] It must be odd to have to live alone after so long with someone at your side. I know it is a rather pointless thing to say but for what it's worth you have my condolences. [seeing this now makes him realize it is probably much more than losing a friend. they really do seem like a unit, and from an early age at that. a difficult adjustment he finds hard to imagine.]

[Rio, please. She can knock over Palamedes' books, he already piles them haphazardly so the change would be minimal. He treks the few paces over to the table to get the other snack bowl and rejoin Viktor, twirling his spoon idly as he does. Like clicking the pen.]

We're too close to the sun. In short, we'd melt clean off if we weren't crammed into the darker pole.

[The Sixth is very fun! Sometimes sunlight in Trench makes Palamedes nervous, so the persistent dark that's been lingering for days now is actually a huge relief. He sticks half a spoonful of cream and fruit in his mouth, smiling around it for a moment — it's the simple satisfaction of making someone happy, definitely saccharine of him, but, ah.

Well, it's actually kind of novel, to impress with sugary dessert instead of necromancy or his myriad work-oriented skills, so. Saccharine, but pleasant.]

You're handing me ammunition this readily? [To tease; who knows, maybe he'll start.

He looks around the room himself, lingering for a second on that empty top bunk, and sighs.]

Thank you. It's fine, I'm not — unraveling, without her around. [He doesn't need to say that, or dump his cavalier emotions on Viktor, who came here to talk about magic, but - these things happen.] I made a solemn promise to myself to not be a baby about it, so — well, thanks.

Ah, I never considered how the planets may differ. [he admits, given so far everyone seems to have come from a place at least somewhere similar to the trench in that regard. fascinating, as always he feels about a thousand questions he tries to wrangle in, watching as rio decides to make the tiny couch her own as much as it will allow.

he really should call her back but ah well, it's hard to treat her like an omen proper and not the rio he knew.] I suppose then this must be more to your liking, this extended night. I remember when I came topside the sun in Piltover felt a bit of an agitating distraction.

[he hums happily around another spoonful of the dessert, giving a soft 'oh' before moving to put the bowl on the table so he could rifle through his bag. out comes a few sticks of incense as promised, that he waves before placing down.]

As promised. And consider the ammunition a reward for making the best thing I've eaten since coming here. [he tilts his head before admitting,] The competition wasn't exactly steep, given the state of things, but we will ignore that part.

[and the bowl is up again, eating paused so he can nod along to that. pal seems to be handling it admirably, in his opinion. he's seen a few people who haven't let go of their old worlds so gracefully.] Eh, not to be- drat, what's the word...

[this one takes him a few moments, it's certainly not a word they used often in the undercity, and he's always struggled a little with idioms in his second language. a snap and he says,] Sappy. Yes. Not to be sappy, loathe to be really, but I believe it's perfectly understandable to struggle under such a drastic change, and on top of other drastic changes.

[a pause and he feels a little awkward but offers,] The 'sappy' is this though, if you would like to discuss it at any point I would be happy to listen. If you need a perfectly logical reason than I've seen that good mental health is key to slowing and even curing corruption.

[and it's what friends do. if pal is to be his friend he would like to make sure he is a good one, as awkward as he can be in these matters.]

[Ah, his little couch... It will survive, she might find it a touch cramped, but it's squishy in that well-worn, dragged-it-in-off-the-curb kind of way. Comfortable. Palamedes watches her do her thing, fidgeting more with his spoon and glancing away only for - oh, incense. Incense, and compliments for his "cooking," and sappy — Camilla may not be awake and out of the sea, but Palamedes finds himself grateful not for the first time to have met so many readily compassionate people here in Trench. Even fumbling through it like this is more endearing than anything else, and so the quasi-smile he gives Viktor for his efforts is genuine, if brief.

Sappy, though... whew. There's an edge of humor still in his voice when he responds, but something softer, too: a quiet warmth that carries his unspoken gratitude for the offer.

(Because nobody has to offer, and given Palamedes' tendency to have all his shit together, it occurs to far fewer to try. He's always a little thrown, in a good way.)]

If that's sappy, just wait until I get going. [he's a hugger.] I'll take you up on that sometime, if you'll agree to do the same. The first few months of this place are unbelievable, I've been there.

[It's in his nature to sublimate his concern for his friends into demanding they open up a little, too, so it works out. Sappy is an equivalent exchange, and he enjoys Viktor's company, so it's an even better incentive to keep them both relatively sane for longer.

He gestures to the table's only two chairs then, if Viktor can tear himself away from the wallpaper notes to finish eating; he sits in the far one, elbowing a short stack of books to the side for his bowl as he does. Watch him not finish this thing he literally made himself, it's fine.]

You said "undercity," and now "topside" — a leveled city? Distinct tiers? I've never known anything like it.

[Please illuminate, he would like to know everything now.]

[viktor does eye the couch for a moment to make sure it won't just collapse, rio staring innocently at him for his troubles. he gives her a 'please behave' look that she bleps at, which as far as he's come to understand means she'll do as she pleases. luckily destruction rarely pleases her, so it's probably fine. if not he's going to have to find pal a new couch.

viktor eases at the brief smile though, glad he didn't make an ass of himself one way or another. he silently thanks jayce for giving him more experience in actually dealing with people on a sincere and personal level, snorting softly at pal's response.]

Quite the threat. I have a high tolerance for sappy people, you'll find. If Jayce ever comes here you'll likely see why. [a pause and he says,] That is only fair. I will try, though I warn you I am not very good at that sort of thing. It may take a little patience.

[but at least he'll try, a proper give and take, the way he assumes things should be in most cases. another lingering glances at the notes, especially the darkblood bits, and he's happy to take a seat, leaning his crutch against the table and giving his bad leg a needed rest.

a couple more spoonfuls - who knew cream, sugar and fruit was such a good combination? not this guy, which is a little ridiculous - and he pauses to consider how to answer that to someone without basic knowledge of runeterra itself.]

About three hundred years ago the city of Piltover was built, relatively young for a city in Runeterra. Far underneath were mines, which were obviously quite important to growth of the city. To put it simply things went... poorly, in regards to how the city developed in many ways. Topside, Piltover proper, flourished. The city of progress, the cutting edge of technology, respected in the world as a peaceful leader of innovation.

[he gestures with his spoon, twirling it upward than jabbing it down when he says,] But underneath something of a city grew as well, still technically part of Piltover but wholly different in many ways. The miners, the immigrants, the factory workers- the people who couldn't afford the rising prices of Piltover as it grew. Trenchers is one of the names they're called, funnily enough. Piltover's garbage funneled downward literally through the chutes, the fissures that made the mines nearly unworkable fill the undercity with fumes so thick people call it the Grey.

Revolutionaries wanted to separate and call it Zaun, that clash... was ended bloodily and quickly. I suppose it's a pretty classic tale in many ways, the absurdly rich profiting in excess as the poor struggle to make ends meet.

Anyway, I was born in the undercity. When I was a young man the dean of the Academy in Piltover found me, saw my potential and allowed my entrance. I've been living in Piltover ever since. [whew, that's a lot. the last bit is said blandly enough but there's clearly a level of old bitterness in his explanation, no attempt to pretend he doesn't feel piltover did its undercity great wrongs. more so now, when he's had too much time to think about the years they spent lining the pockets of the rich with the Gates only for their most basic steps at projects that could help zaun get delayed and overlooked.

ah, systematic classist violence. fun story.]

[Perhaps one day there will simply be a bean bag chair in this underground bunker, perhaps the perfect size for a Rio, who can predict the future... who knows.

Palamedes pauses to move his mental pin of Jayce, mystery man out of "very Third" and into "quite Fifth, actually." A bleeding heart, full of sappy - yeah, for sure.]

I've got more than enough patience for 'not very good at that,' don't worry. [Shoutout to Harrowhark, who embodies 'not very good at that' and provides excellent practice.] Besides, now I know I can ply you with sugar whenever the situation is dire.

[His first thought about Piltover, however, is that three hundred years is even shorter than "relatively young" - it's barely a scratch in the grand scheme of things, when the Empire is ancient to a degree that's near impossible for a single individual to comprehend, and so ironically it's a much shorter city tenure that distracts him for a bit. Huh.

The rest — sucks, it sucks, but it recontextualizes a handful of things Viktor has mentioned prior to now. He wonders if the common thread of all worlds ending in this one is large scale cruelty; Viktor's undercity, the Empire's endless war, the massive slaughter he's heard about from others all smashed through a drain into this, a blood-soaked pit with an ocean full of souls. A polluted scrap of city barely holding its head above the blood spilled.

Cool thing for everyone to have in common. He taps the wrong end of his spoon against the table's edge, leaning the weight of his head into his other hand, propped up on his elbow. Hmm.]

The miners' gloves, [he says with a slight nod, as if to say ah, yes - now it's abundantly clear why that project was among the earliest. Funnel the rich people's money straight into the wellbeing of those in need, oh yes, he's all for this concept.] Water and air purification... It's a shame your work had to be interrupted.

[Privilege manifests differently in the Nine Houses, and Palamedes is aware that his life on the Sixth, while in a clustered little cake tin of a Library, has been better in myriad ways compared to the Seventh, or the Ninth — honestly compared to quite a few other Houses. Still, he can spot injustice at fifty paces, and he's pretty easy to radicalize — like right now! Perhaps if the rich were chewed up and spat out, or something like that.

Things to consider. Now that he can piece together that "toxic fumes" were not from a mere accident that made Viktor sick, too — things to consider!]

Do you want to talk about it? Living there. [patience—] I'll listen.

[and this will be why pal will likely be one of rio's favorites, on top of giving viktor Feelings about that simple hypothetical bean bag. apparently the way into viktor's good graces are sugar and being nice to his giant axolotl-salamander.

the academia doesn't hurt, he thinks he could spend a few good hours just pouring over those notes and the books scattered around.]

You do seem stubborn. [his tone is soft enough the joke of that doesn't quite hit. he does get a proper snort for the sugar comment.] Hm, I'll have to make proper notes on your weaknesses then as well. Intriguing new books maybe? [he's known a librarian or two, they do seem to have a particular soft spot for those.

'sucks' is the perfect descriptor, and the echos of this rebuilt place sometimes remind him too much of piltover for comfort. he's never considered himself an optimist but he has always wanted to believe change for the better could be coaxed out of piltover, of any world stuck in stasis and eating it's own tail. he wants to believe that change can happen without violence, but he's not naive enough to think that isn't what things will inevitably come to.

like the trench, it seems. like the stories he heard of the first dream of the sleepers, the little girl they apparently killed to escape. no doubt like aspects of pal's world, because he cannot imagine a man handling this bloody place so well hasn't seen more than his fair share of what violence exists around them.

he looks surprised when pal puts those points together, that he paid enough attention to realize. maybe it shouldn't be surprising but it still warms him, makes him look down into his bowl rather than give away such a simple thoughtfulness moved him a bit.

in fact if anything it's what has him decide pretty easily he wouldn't mind sharing a bit about the undercity and life there. he avoided it like the plague in piltover, not eager to make himself anymore other than he already was and having no interest in being told he was 'lucky' for escaping. 'brave' for surviving. as though zaun was a place of thugs and monsters rather than simply complicated and beautiful in its complexity.]

You really are very good, I will give you that. I offer an ear and you've already turned it around on me. [he informs with a crooked quirk of the lips. dipping his spoon in the bowl as he considers what he would want to say about the undercity to someone who actually wanted to hear the truth and not a horror story.]

In truth it isn't unlike the trench, I would say. Less desperate but not by much, less violence but not by much. Like the trench I have seen greater acts of generosity and compassion in the undercity than I have in Piltover. Learning to survive there as a child certainly made me more than capable of handling this.

[he gestures around with his free hand.] Of course the undercity had its power imbalances too. Half of why I was eager to leave was I would have been forced to make chems or weapons for a baron if I didn't keep my head down. They're ah- chembarons... druglords? Control the chem supply and keep people hostage through it in various ways.

I suppose in that way the trench is the least irritating place I've lived. No one has tried to make me their puppet one way or another and power seems scattered. [his thoughtful expression lands on pal again.] Was your world similar? I can't imagine money and power didn't have a similar imbalance when something like necromancy is involved.

Don't think me that predictable, [a beat.] Dirt-boring old books will work just as well.

[Hah. And intriguing projects, and puzzles - there are so many options, all of which he'd be touched by for the simplest "thought you'd like this" aspect of remembering him. Earnestly, he would find a puzzle very compelling and persuasive, especially if the picture were something suitably weird and nonsense.

He finally goes for another spoonful of sugary fruit mess and winks when Viktor says he's very good, rather than interrupt with another quip. Yes, best of the generation at all things up to and including being an interested listener, that's him. It is a wink of good humor and maybe also a nod that they can talk about his feelings next, honest. He'll do it.

So: this apt comparison. Palamedes makes a mental note of the important details; compassion in the face of adversity, druglords??, "less but not by much." It's interesting to think of this world as the least irritating, although after the events of Canaan House's Incredibly Bad Vacation Stay, Palamedes sees it. He supposes he's been doing that himself in some ways without really admitting it, particularly recently, now that the city seems to want to keep him around.

He gestures with his spoon hand in a so-so motion, looking up briefly at the ceiling to collect his thoughts. Viktor asks after his world and for all intents and purposes that's the Library, but it's disingenuous to ignore the other Houses in his overall take. He guesses, ugh, every time someone visited the Library and they trotted him out to be public-facing Master Warden it was tedious at best.]

We're separated, is the thing. We don't all live on the same planet, hell, some of the Cohort - that is, the Emperor's military - spend most of their lives on ships and out of the system entirely. Some of the Houses are more populous and boast better resources than others — that one causes problems, as no House really wants to be a dependent scion of another, but needs must. Not the Sixth, although we're nowhere near the largest and definitely not the furthest-reaching.

[Just a bunch of weird nerds locked in a Library doing science projects, that Sixth. Really, the thing his lived experience has the most common with here is the sea full of soul-squids?— but that's complicated for a mess of reasons.]

I saw the remains of the First, once — I was there, I mean. That place looks like this one, only without the blood. [but he is saying "remains," so.] No one lives there. A place like that could easily be a cautionary tale for a place like this that's still holding on.

[Hmm. Who knows! Even as the "second" stage for some of these people, after the dream, it can still get worse! Yaaay.]

You're right about necromancer politics, though. The Eighth's heir called me an unfinished inbred who passed an examination during a disagreement, once. To my face! [This is funnier in retrospect, ahem.] You can imagine that on a larger scale, for the most part. Everyone is vying to have the best necromancers in the system, including the Sixth — we're commodities.

[He says it with almost no affectation, the end result of a ten-thousand-year-old empire doing this for as long, but there's a twist in his expression that betrays precisely how fucked up that is.]

[so far viktor can tell 'information' is pretty much catnip to pal, if their game of 'shitload of questions' is any indication. it's refreshing, if he's honest, he's gotten a few odd looks for simply expressing how the wealth of information of an endless series of realities makes this place an intriguing one. yes, the beasts and constant little tests and oh, the pirate kidnapping that one time make it an all around headache. but what other chance would they have to learn so much about worlds they would never knew exist otherwise?

anyway, viktor makes a note to keep an eye out for interesting books and other trinkets when he's out at the willful machine looking for scrap material. he's found books hold a weird place in this world, somewhere between precious commodity and 'sure i'll sell you that paper weight.'] Not predictable, then. Consistent. [a touch dry.]

[well, already a lot to unpack there about pal's world- worlds? he finishes the last of his bowl and pushes it away to rest his elbows on the table and consider- interplanetary travel. that's far beyond his scope, mostly because his world is god damned complicated when it comes to what the space beyond their planet actually is. ~~ah vague league of legend lore that may or may not matter in arcane's universe~~ needless to say it takes him a few moments just to process viewing pal's universe as more than a singular, terran world but a series of them with apparently politics to spare.

he holds up a finger, says,] Ah, two questions- yes, I suppose we're back on this again, but your world is already far beyond what I imagined. Are all these planets part of the Empire you mentioned or are there different groupings? And when you say House you mean the planet itself and not a family?

[he already thinks he'd vastly prefer the sixth compared to some of what he's heard- this seventh breeding disease in to power themselves? disturbing. he's starting to make a list in his head to capture it all: the sixth as research based, the seventh as deeply unfortunate as far as he's concerned, the first destroyed? curious. was there an emperor or empress then, and how often did that title change hands? was it a matter of the most powerful necromancer in that case?

more so he admits he's dying to know more about the way they travelled himself. the tech nerd in him can't help it, it's his cat nip. he does make the attempt to not just start badgering with more technical questions, they're more sharing than having an inquisition after all. he can behave and just make a note of that. for future interrogations.]

That's... odd to me. The undercity is polluted and practically inhabitable but people still find a way to survive, and people here slowly rebuild. This First, there must be something that keeps people from re-inhabiting. Maybe not enough time has passed? [maybe stigma? calling it 'the remains' makes it sound like something intense went down, once upon a time.

ok he has to bark a laugh at the audacity of that insult, leaning back in his seat.] Unfinished inbred? Oh, Piltover galas would be a lot more fun if they were that creative. Ah, yes, but that is about what I expected. Commodification of power and use. [his humor goes with that, lips thinning thinking about it. necromancers and their cavalier, that implies a level of grooming from a young age to be useful. at least in that case it seems a way to protect their commodity, but yes, it paints a bit of a grim picture about how much agency a necromancer may have.

he refocuses to ask,] Are there others of your world here?

[Oh boy, they sure are back on this again. Palamedes hums, amused; see, this is why they had to make it an evening, he hasn't even bothered to do anything with darkblood magic yet and the snacks are already running out. It's fine, though — it's good, and while explaining how the Nine Houses work politically may not provide much in the way of accomplishing any ends here in Trench, he's curious about Viktor's insights.

But first he scoops up Viktor's abandoned bowl and stands to set it on the tiny countertop that serves as most of the kitchen in here. He's a creature of endless little movements, and so he talks as he gets up:]

We have one sun and nine planets — eight Houses proper, the First is the Emperor's domain and I'm told he spends most of his time on a spooky spaceship.

[Or did, before making tea a few blocks away in Gaze for months on end, but he'll get there. He holds up one finger for that and now another, as this is now a numbered list.]

The House is the entire thing — like I said, some of them are bigger than others. The Seventh numbers a couple million, I don't recall the most recent census — but it's all one Seventh House, and so on for the rest. The Sixth is smaller, and we have a persistently worsening consanguinity problem — Camilla is actually my second cousin, one of many, though I don't know the rest well at all — still: the title of "House" signifies the whole, and "heir" to the legacy, not a single bloodline.

[Cool stuff. He's filled the snack bowls with water, to... soak? God, but if he never has to do dishes again, it will be too soon. That seems fine for now, and he returns to the table with the rest of the pomegranate that didn't make it into the snack.

Item three, with another finger held up:] We're ten thousand years deep into the post-Resurrection era, which means exactly what it sounds like. By my understanding, the founders of the other eight houses left the First and it just... decayed.

[Good riddance, though. He offers the rest of the fruit, and item number four:]

Do you want this? Two of the Ninth are here— no, three, but I've yet to meet the other one— they're friends of mine. They're... unique. One of the Emperor's Saints is here, we've met, and- [he shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose for this one, pushing his glasses up and askew, but Good God--] -the Emperor. Himself.

[Actually God, For Real!!! It's yet to stop feeling surreal. ~~Palamedes hasn't clocked yet another non-friend from home kicking around, but sooner or later...~~]

As far as I'm aware, they all live together here in Gaze. [And Palamedes Lives Here, which can stand on its own. He fixes his glasses, ahem.] You can ask more questions, but d'you want me to do some magic in the interim?

[ok, so an emperor, one question answered. spooky spaceship has him perking up- more the spaceship part, it being spooky is an aesthetic choice he can live with if the technology is good.] You have no idea what you do to my heart when you casually speak of space travel. Ah, what I would not give to see the schematics for one of those ships.

[he's always had a thing for boats, if he's being honest it's part of what he likes about the willful machine, the canals and makeshift crafts running along it. spaceships are basically the same concept only far more advanced and, in turn, far more tempting.

but yes okay, not houses as he was thinking. a population, it almost sounded more like a particularly involved civilization. before he can really get going again on a number of those topics he blinks at being offered the fruit.] Oh, if you are certain? [little zaun things, food being kind of a Thing. being offered snacks he essentially exchanged for incense is one thing, being offered more after that feels difficult to accept without payment. more so here where food isn't plentiful (and wasted) as it is in piltover.

anyway he considers for a moment before asking,] Do houses to intermingle enough to help with that sort of population problem? I suppose it would involve complicated politics to move between houses and alliances that way. I just would have expected more... ah, political marriages, I suppose?

[ah, so he was right about something big happening, if everyone just fucked off the first one day and that was that.] Must have been quite the dramatic event to cause such an exodus - oh, yes please, we are here for a purpose.

[and boy does he want to see some darkblood magic, maybe even more than he wants to ask endless questions. he nods along, not shocked to hear a bunch of people from pal's world are here. he's noticed a level of grouping, even with his world the undercity seems a popular place to take from, given three undercity born including himself were here.

but obviously there's one thing he has to ask, brow raising at that reaction.] I am guessing the Emperor is a bit of an overwhelming figure to meet. I assume he's the strongest necromancer of your world? [or makes everyone think so. that's one way to grab a title like that.]

[Ah, double endearing tidbits, the yearning for spaceships and snack surprise. Palamedes has just sat down again but he half-stands, reaching across the little table to pinch at Viktor's sleeve and tug, so that he might wordlessly deposit the rest of the fruit straight into his hand. Yes, take this fruit, Palamedes won't even appreciate it despite the not-insignificant sliver he had to chip off one of his limited-quantity bloodstones to get all these rare foods.

He's not going to mention that part because he already gave his "do not pay me" friendship speech, QED.]

I want you to have it. Enjoy it. [It's a Gesture, accept it.] The Sixth has consanguinity tables, to keep track. Broadly, necromancers aren't allowed to marry inter-House — Imperial law.

[Uh huh. Magic time, though, and he stands straight to roll up his sleeves and step into the middle of the room, which isn't terribly far from the table, anyway. To the issue of the Emperor he says,]

That's right, [which is the truth, and,] I've decided to be neutral about that.

[Which is Nine Houses Drama.]

Now, for telekinesis, I've been working under the theory of two larger types that can be molded to suit specific needs, et cetera: with and without bloodshed. Here—

[He squints and crooks a finger, and with a little pop! a pomegranate seed comes loose from the rest of the fruit and wobbles in the air. Tada.]

[ugh, he's having Feelings again. unbelievable, at this rate he's going to become an openly sentimental person and then what will he do? still, viktor looks down to the fruit with a small smile before clearing his throat, glancing over to pal with a soft look.]

Well... thank you then. [a touch awkward but sincere. now he really needs to make sure they have powdered milk around the lab at least. a shame camille isn't here so he could try to use her for information on pal related preferences.]

... what? Why would they not be? [color him baffled. a way to keep power in check? pushing an isolationist society? absolutely odd, he can't say runeterra is one for a lot of intermingling but it does happen. the idea of having to keep charts for it all is a little mind boggling too. at least it's more practical than the sort of charts piltover elite keep just for showing off family lines and old money.

he turns in his chair to watch pal, rio's head popping up to also keep an eye on these interesting proceedings, a little, curious trill as she does.] Are the others of your world that are here so neutral?

[maybe he'll ask more about this emperor and the others later, always good to know who is around. for now though he pops a bit more of the fruit into his mouth and listens.

the without bloodshed intrigues him, more so when suddenly the little seed is pulled from the rest. he blinks, lips quirking because he can't help it, magic of any type is still a wonder to see done freely. he pokes at it, a light brush of his fingertip.] This seems very fine tuned control. Incredible, if we could harness this-

[don't get ahead of yourself, viktor. he gestures for pal to continue speaking, trying not to derail it as he sometimes tends to.]

[Ah, Cam could provide him with an itemized list, sorted top down through preference and her own personal judgment of being worth the effort to get, and so on. Alas. One day.

Palamedes does not wink again - almost, now that he's in the zone to show off magic it nearly happens - just smiling right back and then dropping into a shrug. That the inter-House marriage laws exist is something he's either never thought about or ignored completely when someone else was thinking about them, so — who knows.]

You'd have to — hello, Rio — you'd have to ask someone else about the laws. [A beat.] It could be arbitrary. Necro-cav marriages are kind of a no-no, too, but it still happens.

[So: random, maybe. Somebody's outdated nonsense ideas. Who knows if it was even the Emperor who came up with that one, perhaps one of the Saints was having a rough go of it and tired of their colleagues on a really extreme, "don't talk to me or my House ever again" level. Enough information about Way Back When is still gone forever...

Nevertheless, Palamedes flicks his finger and makes the seed spin faster, bouncing a little when Viktor brushes against it.]

I'm a quick study, to be fair. [yeah mhm yep this is the showing off portion, for sure] Blood quantity is proportional to the level of power, I think all evidence points to that thus far. Application is the inverse, which should vary by individual. Levels can be supplemented, where necessary — precision can be learned.

[Precision like zipping a pomegranate seed around in a tight circle above the table, before he lets it drop back down. Tada.... 2!!!]

[rio bleps in greeting, likely watching the whole seed telekinesis like a cat intrigued but too comfortable to do anything about. viktor is more the cat actively poking at it, eyes only leaving to regard how pal's movements correspond with the seed's.]

Hm, I suppose that's considered a conflict of interests somehow? Keep eh... work and life separate. If it even counts as work. [it sounded a little more like a duty to him, the kind of thing you'd read in demacian stories about knights and nobles. in that sense he can easily see why there'd be a stigma against marriages.] The way you talk of her sounds like family.

[actually it reminds him a little of jayce and cait, or maybe more what little he's heard of camilla reminds him of cait. all the more curious to meet her, and maybe simply because he'd prefer pal had her here to have his back. talk about sentimental.

he nods along, watching the seed drop before exhaling in amusement.] I would applaud but- [that would make a mess. he picks up the seed between his fingertips, warm with fascination at it all.] I wonder how adaptable application ultimately is - in other words just how much can be learned aside from precision? The magic seems to have such an internal focus, or perhaps I should say personal focus? Aside from general consistent abilities within certain blood types.

[Rio!! God! Give Palamedes half an hour to show off magic, then he will at last just ask if he can pat her on her big squishy head. Truly a wonder.]

Cam? We've known each other our whole lives. Some Houses have a stick up their collective ass about professionalism in the necromancer-cavalier partnership, [he says it like he's heard this quoted at him and rolled his eyes then just the same as he does now,] I think it's reductive to think of it like that. Cold, too.

[Then again, that line of thinking opens up the can of worms that is how some of the other Houses treat their cavaliers, but mm, not tonight; they've been through enough heavy subjects in the past half hour alone without getting into, say, the abject horrors of soul siphoning.

It would really kill the buzz of telekinetic parlor tricks, all told. He blinks, focusing again on the magic.]

I've been thinking about that, too. [He's not all wrapped up in his cloak today, being at home, but he's always wearing at least one robe-ish overpiece with many inside pockets, which he now reaches into for - a scalpel.] Oh — did you bring a match?

[For the incense, before he starts nicking his fingertips open for Blood Time.]

Step one, of course, is to take the internal power source and spill it out. I can do remote necromancy, so surely... [He waves a hand, like. Surely. Surely also this.]

[go ahead and ask, she does love pets. viktor's been trying to figure out if she really does hold something of the real rio in her, if it's his own memories of rio loving pets shining through or it says something about him and a little touch hunger if she's merely a reflection of him. he vastly prefers the first of the list, thanks. it might be a little naive but he can't help clinging a little to the idea some version of rio gets a pain free life somewhere.

traumatic childhood pet dragon stuff aside he nods along to that.] I don't see how they expect two people linked so closely from a young age not to have a deep personal bond as well. Trying to fight such a basic human instinct seems a losing battle.

[maybe not all of them are from birth? even then it still seems a bond that's bound to get personal one way or the other. he only spent a decade working closely with jayce and the idea of that ever staying purely professional lasted about a couple of hours.

he pops the seed into his mouth before going to dig through his bag with his free hand, pulling out a little matchbook and pushing it closer. he also pulls out a little incense holder, someone was prepared! truthfully it's something he does just carry around incase he has a really bad blood cough fit and he needs to make sure he can sit to breath and not attract every beast around.]

Surely it can be replicated. [nerd excitement again.] With how adaptive blood magic seems to be and the odd nature of darkblood itself...

[Sooner or later Palamedes will have to entertain his own omen, which may be a challenge, considering she is a very large bird that only loves him? He'll work it out in a way such that she would not maim any guests.]

You'd think, but here we are. Well — here I am. [A beat. Hey.] Now you've got me talking about her.

[Very clever, sir. It's a sort of melancholy smile he offers for this, since, well - he promised to talk about these things, Cam included, much as not having her around does feel sharply like he's missing a limb when he thinks about it actively.

That and he rather doesn't know where to start, which might be obvious from the "our whole lives" part; talking about missing Camilla is like talking about why he breathes air? She's not here; he misses her. How does he articulate the rest...

Luckily he has something else to do, that is, pricking his fingertip and willing just enough magic into the blood that beads so that it doesn't glitter away.]

That's the idea. Necromantic blood wards are easy enough to draw - could someone draw a darkblood ward, that creates, I don't know, an area of effect that can levitate an object? If I do this- [Smear. Blood on something, which he decides will be a mug he swipes off the counter and runs his finger around the bottom of.] -I can let it float without having to concentrate.

[Which it does, when he lets go, behold!! It's ready to drift over to Viktor, get ready.]

[viktor offers an one shouldered shrug, a little smirk as he says,] It's hardly my fault she sounds such an interesting individual. The ah 'opening up' that comes along is a happy accident.

[which actually is just the truth, despite the playful smirk. maybe it's just a matter of getting pal to talk about his experiences, which seem to so often involve camilla it's inevitable. the perks of a great many questions.

still the melancholy smile makes him ease off it, let pal decide how much more he wants to say or avoid. maybe one evening he can see if pal enjoys liquor and they can have a toast about it, something along those lines. it's a thought he puts away to examine later, a touch surprised he's already thinking of future encounters like it's natural they'll occur.

he makes sure to get their incense lit, the smell still a little odd to him even after using these quite often. he goes back to picking at his fruit as he watches this- oh, the idea of heimendinger seeing him now, sitting around having a nice evening with a necromancer and watching him do blood magic? the poor man would have a heart attack. it probably shouldn't amuse him as much as it does.

when the cup drifts over he takes the handle, eyes bright with the possibility of it all. he takes a peek at the darkblood underneath, head tilting before he's looking back to pal in thinly veiled excitement.]

Can you make necromantic blood wards this way if you had a vial of someone else's blood? Blood seems to be commodified in a way that would say you could. [surely he can, which if so means all blood, regardless of the donor, would bend to the magical laws of necromancy as pal knows it when in pal's hands. and that is terribly exciting to him, given hextech is largely about learning those magical laws and how to express them.]

[Ah, and complimenting her — that gets him, he can practically see the imaginary hook reeling him in, but maybe it's time. He'd been manic in the days immediately after her departure, and not in the mood a week or so ago, sitting on The Emperor's Own Sofa being asked the same sort of gentle nudging questions — those were not good times. Now, though, in his own home-away-from-home, and with the looming spectre of corruption always there...]

Ask me after this. [Before he can convince himself that he can put off the Cam conversation for another week. Ahem.] I'll — think of something.

[Until then: mugs! He lets it drift, pinching his fingertip to ooze out some more blood, in preparation for the next thing he smears it on - whatever that may be. He hasn't picked yet.]

I might be able to — if I had to guess, I would expect it to take more effort to manipulate, say, paleblood- [do not bleed into a cup for him, not that anybody is suggesting that, but do not] -due to the cross-type...

But once a ward is down, it should work independently — it's the making that takes the most effort.

[He comes over to the table, pleased - he's sooo good at magic - and tickled by how delighted Viktor is by something like this. He leans his non-bleeding hand on the back of Viktor's chair, watches him play with the mug. It will still float, although he's not entirely sure how long that one blood ring will last, so be careful with that...]

Coldblood — that one adds an elemental touch, I've seen it. What would we do with paleblood wards, do you think? You mentioned a shared paleblood experience, but it didn't sound... great. No offense.

[viktor nods, and when pal comes over he puts what he hopes is a comforting hand on his arm. it's after a moment of hesitation, personal space is such a tricky thing and he's never been very good at reading the room for what's appropriate. he removes it after a moment - somewhere in all this he probably finished the fruit or put it aside for now, and focuses on their far more light hearted discussion of magic.

he was thinking more bleed into a vial than a cup, but he resists offering for the moment. focusing on darkblood, and the functionality of various types of wards, etc.] You've said before that you use your reserves of thanergy when doing necromancy- when you supplement it with darkblood like this does it negate the need for dipping into your reserves? Blood here seems to be a potent source of energy on its own.

[which leads to a lot of interesting questions about fueling different magics from different sources- could a hexgem from his home help fuel necromacy? how far did all this exchange go?

he keeps his hands ready to catch the mug just in case but mostly he just softly directs it through the air, lips quirked at being able to interact with magic in such a direct way. it reminds him a little of early hextech, floating in the dean's lab, the magic floating like stars around them. a very fond memory, maybe one of the reasons he's learned to take delight in magic.

the question makes him hum as he considers,] As far as I can tell paleblood is often associated with magics of the mind or empathy. Off the top of my head? My hope would be it could create a calming field of influence that could perhaps be used to sedate beasts for purification rather than more violent means of restraint.

Oh, I have meant to tell you, I think you'll find this interesting. [he glances up at pal as he speaks, finally looking away from cool magic mug.] I have only noticed one ability manifesting from my own blood that I certainly did not have before. Once I bled on a simple bunsen burner I was fixing and I found myself able to... hm, to feel what was wrong with it, is the best way I can describe it. A clog in one of the lines, it would have needed full dismantling to see that for myself.

I think it's a reflection of paleblood in some way, I also know a man who developed the ability to read minds from his.

for palamedes, april

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