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!]

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Nothing happened to me earlier, although that was only a drop. [He lifts the finger he pricked earlier to wiggle it for emphasis; it's only a touch darkblood stained now, as if he was actually eating berries with his fingers. Whimsical, besides the blood.] But we are simpatico; I'm not going to start drinking blood for fun. Especially not vileblood — I doubt they call it that because it's secretly quite pleasant.

[Gross. He shrugs, then - the Sixth is a strange place, he's gotten that much out of talking to other people here; and from how Trench really does more resemble the First than what he knows of the other Houses. Weird, that.]

It's too hot. The poles don't get enough sunlight to melt clean off — the toss-up is we're sitting in ice. [He never went outside, Viktor, it's been absolutely nuts to go out.] And we mostly looked at the ships through viewscreens, from safely indoors. Let's go to the docks sometime — that's hobby-esque.

Did it taste like berries then? [he can't help but be genuinely curious about that. he also nods- given how much of his own blood he gets in his mouth from the coughing he sort of hopes it isn't corrupting him more too. that'd be an obnoxious insult to add to injury.]

[great, another feeling. watching ships is something he's done since he was a kid, and the fact a passing comment on it has pal interested in seeing it himself is nice. he focuses on the notebook in front of him, running his fingers over the spine like he isn't a little touched as he nods.] That does sound like a good way to clear the head.

But that- hm, so did you live in bunkers like this? [he's starting to gather now just how much this place must be a wild experience for pal.]

Not that I noticed — beyond just having eaten fruit bowl dessert, anyway. [Sooo, maybe? He wants to believe that their own blood is already enough of a corruption source the... normal ways; looking at big butterflies, being out and about around town, etc. without having to worry about errantly licking a drop off a cut finger.]

Right; the Library is completely sealed and temperature-controlled. We have to preserve the integrity of our archives, of course, but the planet's surface isn't exactly friendly to paper either — or to people.

[And so he lives in this bunker here, instead of tacking up blackout curtains over every window in any given typical residence he could have chosen. It's a living. He takes his glasses off to fiddle with them and clean them on his sleeve as he leans his head back again; hello, blurry Viktor-shape.]

Naturally, I don't know anything about proper ships, either. I'll have questions.

Good fact to add to our comprehensive list: allegedly tastes like berries but likely an odd exaggeration from people should not have been tasting darkblood in the first place. [he says dryly. he also notes this is the longest he's seen pal stay in one place since getting here, so well done if that was a goal, rio. it wasn't but she reaps the rewards anyway.

he hums as he imagines a library bunkered deep in some inhospitable place. and here he thought zaun was a good example of a place that is actively trying to kill you a little. at least he could go outside.]

Do you prefer general life in the Trench or at the Sixth? Ignoring duties and companionship. [he asks, curious. he imagines the sixth is only really difficult if you know what you're missing of an outside world but who knows.

he does offer a little smile when he says,] Be careful, I can go on about boat engines. They've been a fixation since I was very young.

God, which list is that? We're going to need bigger paper, too. [Those poster pages with a big sticky strip, he'd be in heaven - they can write "darkblood is not berries" right at the top.

That's a good question, though, and he pauses in his idle ministrations with his glasses for a moment before continuing to fiddle with them. The first thing he thinks is that honestly, sometimes? The sun makes him nervous, but that doesn't mean much for his day to day life in Trench when it doesn't melt anyone.]

I'm used to the Sixth, [he says thoughtfully, after a beat.] Ultimately, I can get used to the differences here. But your specifications aren't fair at all; I prefer the companionship. You're included in that, you know. My list isn't very long, but you're on it.

[He squints again; with his glasses off he can only see about 40% of Viktor's actual expression, but that's enough.]

For as long as I'm still here, I'm afraid you're stuck with me. [annnd glasses back on, hello again] Listening to engine talk is a fair price to pay.

The tall tales and verified facts about blood types list. Maybe just a general list of complaints too, the mushroom business was incredibly annoying after a while. [to be fair he's felt pretty good this month because the constant Moon exposure charging you up a bit is apparently part of the package deal with milk blood for some reason. he would have thought darkbloods would be the one with a whole night thing.

if it becomes a vent list they really will need a bigger piece of paper though. of course pal distracts from all that by refusing to disregard companionship and making viktor's chest do complicated things. the expression he can 40% is a touch surprised but softer around the edges as he shakes his head.]

You are injecting complicated variables into the data pool here. [he's right though, companionship is a massive part of this world and ignoring it is difficult.] Well... my list is incredibly short as well and you've found a prominent spot, so I suppose there is that to consider.

[and he's happy to be stuck with him. his smile is warm when he says,] You may change your mind when you actually have to suffer through it, but until then I'll enjoy a somewhat captive audience.

Oh, complaints we'll need the whole wall for. I'm all for it, to be clear.

[That's just part of the self-care package: the complaint wall. But, ah - turning his own other list against him, he deserves that. He makes an effort to be frank when it comes to things like this - why muddle around the honest truth - so it gets a look out of him that is equal parts warm and pleased with himself, for throwing complicated variables all over the place.

They're probably not that complicated. In the end.]

Prominent? Now I'm really going to get cocky. [haha. it's the mystique.] We'll see, maybe I'll learn to love engine minutiae.

[A beat. Now, not to spoil this little moment they're having, but ah...] My leg has been asleep for at least ten minutes.

I am tempted. I can think of several off the top of my head- the time I lost my crutch to pirates, mushrooms, the fact I cannot look up when outside without perhaps laying eyes on the local soul sucking butterfly population. The fact I have yet to find a place that sells coffee beans. [he starts checking them off with his fingers. to be fair opening it up past bloodtype and there's just an endless array of fuckery to explore.]

Quite. I don't agree to live with just anyone, as it turns out. Very selective. [that's actually very true. there are many people here he considers himself quite friendly with that he would have declined the same offer, not out of dislike but practicality. being able to mesh in the right ways, as it were.

he has to laugh, sitting up properly to nudge rio.] Rio, come on now, he needs that leg. [rio makes a sleepy merp but lifts herself, an impressive yawn before she's readjusting and just curling into a comfy ball but this time without a leg pillow.] Well, if you like it by some miracle I'll next teach you how to make windup boats from scratch.

Pirates? [dang; here, let him offer a few more:] Add the crabs that poked holes in my other cloak, the two types of magic available to me both use blood and therefore summon monsters, and — the smells.

[A beautiful start to the Trench Shame Wall, he thinks. He makes a short noise of discomfort when Rio moves, as the blood rushes back and his whole leg goes pins-and-needles, but ah: relief. Rio gets one more affectionate pat once she's resettled, and Palamedes takes the opportunity to brace a hand behind him and drag himself back up onto the couch proper.

(Countdown until he fidgets elsewhere begins now.)

Now, there's another joke to be made about his mystique, but given that any intriguing mysteries about him are about to be dead within the week, living together, aha-]

I know what you mean. Here's to being particular. [and: windup boats! do wonders never cease!] And here I'm waiting for you to have an idea that doesn't sound interesting.

Typical nonsense. I did get to create a makeshift gunpowder bomb and blow a hole in the hull of their ship. [that's a weirdly fond memory. it did lead to losing his fucking cane though, and he liked that one. now it's just rotting in the sea somewhere. ah, more about the crab thing, but he has to nod heartily to that.] Ugh, the smells. At least the blisters are gone now, those were particularly heinous and get a place on this theoretical wall.

[he thinks he might actually start one, though likely by placing a piece of paper on one of the walls when pal is away so he has something amusing to return to. surprises in this place rarely seem to be fun and harmless.

and he's moving again. viktor's lips quirk in private amusement, more so when the small boat idea also gets interest. his chest again.] If it helps sell them Rio is a big fan. She would chase them down the water for hours and bring them back to be wound up again when they stopped.

[He got to what! That earns a low whistle out of Palamedes, genuinely impressed; if not for sea smells and how he was most certainly, ah, dead in said sea when this happened, he'd have liked to see it. Perhaps the wall can have an extra column for victories, like "gunpowder bomb" and "personal growth."]

That does help, actually. [He's always tried to split his time between duty work and personal project work, but those are both still work; the insistence lately on all sides that he do things unrelated to either would feel intentional, if anyone involved actually knew each other. Maybe it is, cosmically; maybe he needs to go to parties where they play "pin the tooth on the worm," and make crafts, and build boats with Viktor to entertain Rio.

It doesn't sound so bad, as these things go. He drums his fingers on his knee, briefly thoughtful.]

Well, you've got me figured out. I'm a sucker.

At least you have taste. It is not a bad way to spend an afternoon. [he certainly has endlessly fond memories of it. that he now might be sharing with a new friend. his life has taken an absolutely bizarre turn in this place. thriving social life and constant, unavoidable danger.

he pulls himself up again, rio lifting her head with another yawn and pulling herself to a sitting position as viktor looks to pal.] Would tonight be acceptable to start our arrangement? Of ah, of roommates, that is. I have very little to bring over but I'd like to go get it if so.

[is this too soon? which he knows is ridiculous, the offer is what it is, not timed in some odd, specific way. still, the generosity of it humbles him.]

[Oh - Palamedes blinks, a little surprised at the... formality? Of that question? It pinches something in his chest, the way it's equal parts endearing and, hm, still awkward.

He'll work on it. In pieces, slowly but surely. He nods, then, standing up himself and gesturing over at the bunkbeds.]

Sure — I'll work on clearing that mess in the meantime. I'm not going anywhere, so when you get back I'll show you the door code.

[And Viktor can make him change the door code so they don't get robbed. Perfect.]

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april catch - all

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me unable to resist. slaps a wrapped bow on this