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

[Inside the room, Palamedes locates the boards-on-wheels and then heads to the windows, to push one open and make some hasty eyeballed measurements. It's lucky that these boards have an adjustable height, or the windows might not be wide enough to heft one out of.

It's less lucky that they are old and weird like near everything in this town, and the mechanism to collapse the stand has rusted. Great. Cool. He loves this.

The first rusty knob gets flakes of rust all over his hands but turns, and it's in the middle of battling the second that Viktor's message comes through. Palamedes sighs, clearly having a time of it in here.]

Really? I'm having technical difficulties— there are always emergency measures.

[Emergency measures is Rocky, who he could, if need be, summon to screech at an innocent janitor trying to do his job. Emergency measures.

—But he gets the stupid knob loose, so all that's left is to smear some blood on the edges of this thing so it doesn't break falling out of a window. If not for the rusty knobs, this would have been the more involved part of the process; he'll do it fast, which means if an errant swear carries out into the hall, please ignore it.]

[that sigh does not promise good things, and viktor keeps an eye on the door the janitor disappeared in. taking a little while, he assumes mostly just emptying trashcans and basic tidying. not enough time for 'technical difficulties.']

I'll keep this channel open and mute you when he comes back out so you can hear what's going on for yourself. At least if it goes too south I am assuming you can get out through the window?

[an escape plan, at least. he hopes.

he considers what a good distraction would be- pretending there is an emergency? no, without an actual emergency it would leave him in a sticky situation once he was found out. playing up his illness? maybe, if he could force a coughing fit the man might be kind enough to focus on him for a little while. or he might decide there's nothing he could do and move on, and viktor will have pissed his own lungs off. not ideal.

the directions card is good for a quick distraction, but he doubts he could pull the man away with it for long. there is... something though, not dissimilar to what he tried when he and jayce were caught. if there is one thing academics often were besides a little obnoxious and very stressed it was horny. gods knew the shit that people got up to in the academy was mind boggling.]

Palamedes, I am muting you now. I er- I apologize in advance for this. [he tells the omni, slipping it in a pocket and hoping the sound would carry so pal could hear and hopefully know when emergency measures are needed.

so, he sighs and unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt and untucks it, rumpling it a little before running his hands through his hair to muss it up. when the janitor comes out he makes sure to look like a deer in headlights, back pressed to the lecture door as the man approaches.]

Ah- hello, just uh- [he stutters through, trying to play up his actual nerves about this. hey, the best lies are ones with a little truth in them, right? though 'truth' here is just he really doesn't want this guy going into the room.

the man looks amused, which is a relief, exactly the reaction viktor wanted. the knowing look he gives viktor is the perfect chance to pretend to crumble.] Listen could you- could you skip this room, please? For now? My ah, my friend's trying to find something he lost and-

[the janitor chuckles, says,] Yeah, I'll give him a chance to get decent if you promise any mess will be cleaned up in there.

[that actually has viktor blushing just because this situation is fucking ridiculous, but so far so good. he doesn't even have to pretend to be mortified when he replies,] Of course.

[but hey, the janitor is shaking his head and moving on, so... win? a very stupid win, but a win. hopefully there are no guards outside.]

[On the other side of the door, in the tetanus exposure room, Palamedes makes quick and efficient work of applying blood to the chalkboard. It's going to stain; he's accepted that drawback, but it's not as if it wasn't already an old piece of hardware anyway.

The first trick is not dripping blood on the floor, as the errant swearing he does before Viktor mutes him is from cutting too deeply into his palm with the scalpel and having to endure the sting. The second trick is wheeling the board over to the window relatively quietly - he can't have it floating up to the ceiling, so the blood is the final step - such that the janitor outside doesn't wonder what in hell he's doing in here, now that Viktor has gone and told him someone is in here.

Honestly, it's funny — he can picture the fumbling awkwardness and pristine knowing looks without having to be in the hallway at all, and he would laugh, if, again: that wouldn't blow the whole thing wide open. (That is the third trick: keeping the laugh down.)

At last he can smear some blood on the edges of this board, though, and its squeaky little wheels. The plan is to simply push it out and let it hover long enough for them to walk right back out the front door and grab it before anyone looks out another window and notices; it's dark out, it should work. Palamedes would prefer not to drop out of any windows personally, even if they are fairly low, first story affairs.

Out it goes, and since the muffled pocket conversation on his omni seems to have stopped, he hastens back to the door to the hall and cracks it open to pop his head out. That janitor might still be in sight range, so if he must lean into the bit, he will lean into the bit. Actually, this is convenient: what better excuse to hastily walk right out the front door than being mortified at being caught by the janitor?]

Viktor, [he pulls a stage-whisper just in case and tugs his cloak all the way around him, as if perhaps he is sufficiently rumpled under there and not simply hiding how disgusting and guilty his hands are at the moment.] Are we in the clear?

[viktor rebuttons his shirt with a sigh, heartily glad pal managed to keep it quiet in there because loud creaking really wasn't going to sell the story. the janitor is down the hall and mostly out of sight when pal comes out, and viktor moves to shut off his omni as he nods.]

Looks like it. [he murmurs, watching the man vanish from sight around a corner before easing a little more. he's a touch embarrassed about the whole thing but the crime comes first.] Did you get it out?

[still a whisper but for now? things are going okay. if he's lucky the janitor will never hear about the stolen chalkboard and just think of this as a particularly amusing night on the job.

[Palamedes shuffles into the hallway proper, letting the door swing shut behind him so as not to get rust and blood on it suspiciously. He hums as if to say yes, it was very easy, not a single hitch in the whole process, he does not resent metal knobs in any way now more than before.

It's a nuanced hum. Anyway,]

Well, we don't need to linger around here any longer than necessary.

[Ahem, so, time to go. Just two ordinary scholars having a normal one, not doing any crime or illicit activities, leaving the school the normal way, through the front door.

Palamedes immediately diverts to the side of the building as soon as he can, letting go of his cloak and tsking down at his hands as he walks.]

I left it by the window, it should be — oh! [it's bobbed down to walk-right-into-it level, stopping him short] It's here.

[viktor makes an after you gesture, glad that any hurrying probably just plays into the dumb narrative he created with his deception.] I will be honest with you, this went both better and worse than I imagined.

[man darkblood seems like it was messy, viktor's coming to find. maybe paleblood has it's perks, if he was darkblood god knows his mouth would be a stained mess half the time. he's a little preoccupied with that but ah, there's their chalkboard. stained as well a little but undoubtedly not in the school instead of in the school, and no one seemed to be around to give them shit for it.

he can't help a chuckle with pal nearly has a proper collision, walking over with grin.] Very well done- let's not get comfortable until we get it back to the bunker, at least. What's the term...? Ah, the home stretch. We are there.

[he sounds pretty chipper, reaching to try and maneuver the chalkboard where they're going to want it. does gaze have paved walkways? let's hope so or it's a lot more floating and the poor necromancer has bled enough.]

I'd have to agree with that, [although his "worse" is more rust and less janitor incident. How much he's ruined his hands in a few minutes is made much more tolerable by the parts he can have a laugh over, see, so thanks Viktor for this noble sacrifice.

The board is still floating for the time being, so Palamedes heads for the opposite end of it from Viktor to nudge it with his shoulder and help get it into a good position to inevitably reach the ground. For now, they can simply glide it along. His hand is still bleeding, which is fun, but with all the rust flakes he's just sort of curled it against his chest rather than go for a makeshift bandage.

Time limit bonus round: thaaat. The home stretch straight to the lamp is go.]

I am in desperate need of a sink and antiseptic, but I'd call that as smooth an operation as any. God, we're good at this. If switching careers is ever a pressing matter, we know where to turn.

[100 points awarded to them, by Palamedes!! But yes yes, here they go, he's not going to spoil it at the last second.]

We should celebrate. People celebrate after heists, yes? [probably? he didn't really do the celebration thing much, that was probably more jayce's wheelhouse. maybe that's where he picked it up.

why not though, right? obviously they are better at this than they probably should be and now they have a proper chalkboard. thank gods, viktor was so tired of tiny notebook pages.]

I did always think a life of crime would be a valid back up to engineering- wait, are you still bleeding? [he frowns, grabbing a clean rag from his pocket, part of his for coughing fits collection. he holds it out, trying to get a better look himself, a touch concerned as they keep moving.]

That sounds right; people celebrate accomplishments, and we've just achieved a momentous one.

[Of course, Palamedes' celebrations are usually with Camilla and they mostly just sneak into the kitchens, but perhaps a celebration without breaking and entering? It would be thematically appropriate, but he can spare only so much more blood.

And speaking of-] Somewhat.

[Quite; he's not spilling it everywhere - darkblood doesn't even really do that, particularly now that he's not trying to press any magic into it, but there's definitely an ooze. He holds his hand out, thoroughly berry-juice-stained once more and, ah, rusty. Does Viktor have a moist towelette...]

I can make it back. [he sees and appreciates the concern, apologies for this next thing he chooses to say,] Then I'll need... a hand.

Usually Jayce and I would split a bottle of something he swiped from a gala. [viktor muses, because yeah, alcohol is usually what he knows of celebrations. he's pretty sure they don't have any so he suggests,] We could go to a bar?

[honestly a little amused at the idea. what are bars even like here, he has to wonder. what kind of alcohol did a place like this have a dear gods please did it not have blood in it?

well anyway, he's more focused on the fact pal is still bleeding, which has him frowning and reaching over to press the folded rag carefully against the cut, hopefully help staunch the bleeding.]

You couldn't help yourself, could you? [he sighs, 'need a hand.' pal.] I should have known. I have never met a person who seems like they would be prone to puns more.

[They... could go to a bar? Palamedes has been to one bar in his life, here in Trench, so he knows there are bars. Ordinarily he wouldn't choose a bar, but the adrenaline of pulling off a successful heist is highly persuasive. Would it not be ill-fitting, actually, to just go home and stare at their spoils for hours? They'll have time for that.

Which is to say:] We can go to a bar. They're clustered in Cellar Door, if I recall new year's.

[He flinches from the press but doesn't pull his hand away, letting Viktor do what he can. Once he can wash his hands properly and rustle up some actual bandages, they'll be good to go; this helps, for now.]

What; me? That's slanderous talk. [it is not. he is guilty.] Don't encourage me.

You've been to one here before? What are they like? [seriously, he can't decide whether they'd be rowdier than zaun's or attempt to keep a lower profile thanks to all the dangers of this world. and the alcohol for that matter, how odd must that be?

probably better than zaun at least, that had several liquors made with fermenting corpses of weird creatures in the jars. probably better. apparently he'd see for himself soon enough.

either way he's focused on pal's hand, dabbing at it a bit to get a better look before sighing and simply letting the letting the cloth soak up the blood.] Puns do not require encouragement, they feed off the agony they inflict just as much as the joy. Give me a moment, I am resigning myself to this. It is a grim future indeed.

Not sure; I was there, but it was a special occasion and I never went back on an ordinary night. Most of the evening was someone bothering me into putting on stage clothes, or some such.

[It was a non-gray outfit with a pattern on it, but Sixth sensibilities are what they are. Somewhere in a storage bin in the bunker, this real people outfit (tm) is still lurking.

In any case, this grim resignation is even more encouragement for him to make all manner of jokes, but Viktor surely knows that.]

I'll rein myself in, but that might make it worse when I can't help it. The shock factor, and so on. [He wiggles his fingers a bit and then closes them around the rag, so they can keep moving without distraction. Hmm,] I've got it.

Edited (grammar,) 2022-04-14 20:38 (UTC)

Hm, you do seem to have a preference for grey. [something he's noticed, yes. he hasn't been able to figure out if that's a 'not a lot of options' thing or a fashion choice.] Did they succeed in convincing you?

[genuinely curious about that. well, that sounds like a safe enough bar then, if there's no discussion of violence along with it. probably a good place to celebrate without losing an eye in the process.]

No, be free. I have accepted this is the situation I've gotten myself into. Everything has a price. [his lips are quirked despite himself and hey, bunker landmark within sight.] Let's focus on making sure you don't lose that hand to gangrene. I could make you a new one but the puns involved would truly be unbearable.

[joking but with that rust... yeah let's be safe.]

They did. I had also had a fizzy pink drink with some kind of alcohol in it, which contributed.

[Much of the outfit-swapping from that night is a blur now, thanks fizzy drink. Someone else harangued him into putting on boots? He hated it, but it was a friend thing, allegedly.]

You're too generous. [About both his humor and his hand, which would one hundred percent be subject to even more jokes if it were replaced, with - a machine hand? He assumes? There are a handful of Lyctors around who could simply conjure him a new fleshy hand, but hm, well-

Well. Only one of them he'd even consider approaching for a favor. He would rather not lose a hand at all.]

Can you get the door? I'll manage the spoils.

Ah, you are, what is the word? A light weight? We must keep that in mind. [that also doesn't shock him. he doesn't mind helping a drunk pal but he's not really built for dragging people around or helping them steady themselves. then again rio is built for that, so maybe it'd be fine.

he snorts about the generosity, regardless of if it's the puns or the hand. as though anyone he cared about could escape him making them a new robot limb if they needed it. that's something they'd need to resign themselves to pretty much immediately, like pal's puns.

he moves ahead to get the door, the new code that isn't painfully obvious pressed in and the door pushed and held open so their new prize could be brought inside. he'll close the door for them after that's done, a small smile on his face as he regards it.]

Very well done. I think this is the best use for blood magic I've seen yet.

[Oh — somehow that's the thing that embarrasses him, at least halfway - he laughs, a little sputtering thing, surprised and at a loss for any way to defend himself. Read him for filth, yes, he was undone by a single cocktail — such is the fate of his necromancer physique.

But the board first, nudged through the open door, where it teeters in the air for a moment longer before plot contrivance cues deem this the moment the blood magic wears off, and it thunks down to the floor.]

Crime? [haha] I'm inclined to agree. Put it wherever you want — I'm going to wash my hands.

[Get the rust off and out of his cut, at least, since there's nothing to be done about the bloodstains but let them fade with time. He disappears into the tiny bathroom to do just that, emerging a few minutes later with a bottle of ye olde antiseptic and a roll of bandages tucked under his arm.]

I had a thought: I should have bottled the blood before we left.

[viktor mover to check over the chalkboard, rolling it to a less in the way location against one of the walls and regarding it with satisfaction.

though his attention quickly turns back to mr. lightweight with a nod.] Make sure to flush out the wound as much as you can. [he calls after, attention turning back to the board, probably to read over what remnants were left from a previous lesson.

nothing terribly interesting, and when pal comes back he turns to join him.] Ah that... hm, yes, that would likely have been the better choice. We will keep it in mind for the next time. [as though they'll be just committing crimes now. surely that would count as a hobby.]

Would you like me to get that for you? [he nods towards pal's hand, since it'd certainly be easier for someone with two hands to spare to do it. and maybe it'd make him feel a little better to get a good look and see that it's all fine and not likely to get infected.]

[Their secondary life of crime, yes, for certain. Palamedes realizes with beautiful delay that he did not steal any chalk, so maybe...?

No; not tonight, anyway. Tonight is for celebrating, as soon as he has most of his hand's faculties back again. In answer he simply holds out hand and first aid materials to Viktor, moving over to the wee kitchen table where it will be quicker and easier to dress the cut. It's not so deep that there's any concern, physically; aside from what may have gotten into it in the process, which is the big one.

Now that it's washed out it just looks like a mean slice, albeit a strangely too-dark one, thanks to the blood type. He presses his other thumb into it and frowns, a thing which is totally necessary. Not the worst wound he's shoved a hand into in Trench, by far.]

There's a necromancer trick to push the thanergy around for a quick stitch. [This he says with a look over at the blood-smeared board, like, and he would do it if he hadn't emptied a cup or two of blood onto that not fifteen minutes ago. Pros: it's not bleeding everywhere, which he might be influencing himself until the bandage is on.] But yes; please and thank you.

[viktor clicks his tongue as he regards the cut, leaning in to get a better look as he moves pal's hand.] That sounds useful but I think you have used enough energy for one evening. Hopefully we can one day regulate this to the fruits of our blood gem research.

[but he starts focusing on making sure the wound is handled, the expert hands of a guy who has a biomedical engineering degree and quite a few lab accidents that needed first aid. it's so odd, the blood color and how it differs from human blood. even his own paleblood is only odd in the moonlight usually, not quite so stark a change as this.

antiseptic, first aid, wrapping- he doesn't say much during it, just a furrowed brow and a look of concentration before he finishes with a pat of pal's wrist.] There you are, I think your hand can be saved. [dry there.] That seemed a bit more complicated on your end than I thought it would be.

[Mm, and despite the mean slice across his palm, this is a... nice moment? He's been terrified out of his mind every time Camilla got hurt and needed him to bandage up a wound of hers, and while the stakes are far lower right now - he did this to himself for a stupid prank, ultimately - it's close to the same feeling of closeness as those moments after. Quiet, with the antiseptic and the bandages. It's nice that he doesn't have to do this one-handed with a lot of muttered swearing.

He doesn't even wince egregiously - only like, a few times! - simply flexes his hand when Viktor is through and nods gratefully.]

I don't want to think about it before I've had my fizzy pink drink, [he says, exaggerated for comedic effect. Fuck those rusty knobs in particular? Goddamn.] We both had some unforeseen complications, that's all.

[Haha... good golly. He stands, still wiggling his fingers experimentally.]

Let's celebrate.

[viktor eyes the bandaging job under actual stress of movement before he's seeming satisfied, a little nod to himself. incredible how much they bleed now from even smaller cuts, but he supposes that's a useful thing with blood magic. really though, pal is right about getting vials next time.

(it was also nice to be trusted to handle it, the quiet moment of it, but he'll save feelings for at least a drink in, thanks.)

he lets out an amused breath, gesturing to the door.] You would be the expert on bars here, please, lead the way. I am curious about this pink drink. [he likes liquor but he also likes sweets so... perhaps best of both worlds? we'll see.

the mention of his own complications makes him snort- yeah, that's a story for when they get to the bar itself. which is about as much of a journey as anything in the trench, meaning dodging butterflies and maybe portals spewing out a monster or two. the usual.

viktor's never been to cellar door before so he looks around curiously when they make it there, happy to follow pal's lead.] This is far more than I was expecting. Not quite as rowdy as nightlife in the undercity but close. [kind of homey! just needs more toxic fumes and augments. the earworm is closeby so that's likely the destination.]

If you're looking to me for alcoholic expertise, you've got a load of disappointment coming.

[He doesn't even remember what it was called! Which means, quite literally, he did not read what it was before he decided he would drink something pink and fizzy for the sake of novelty, because not even a half-drunk blur can foil his perfect memory that badly. So: fizzy, pink. Alcoholic. A baseline, if nothing else.

But away they go, and while The Red is where he remembers ordering pink fizzy drinks and being made to put on Costumes (read: normal people shirts), he gives it a Look before continuing on; no, that's too fancy. They don't need to be fancy, particularly not when, arguably, they are on a budget. It is on to Earworm, then, and he makes some idle commentary about actually never coming here as they head inside.

He likes the big neon worm; he doesn't mind the humidity one bit, which might be a surprise. Since Viktor is giving him the lead, lead he does to an out of the way table, to squint at the drinks menu over the bar, looking for something fizzy and ideally pink.]

How rowdy is the undercity? No; don't tell me yet. Let me muddle through pretending I know anything about alcohol, first. [what is a beer.....]

Not much of a drinker then? [probably a good thing here, where who knows what's in the liquor. unless it's pink and fizzy because that has to taste at least a little okay rather than turpentine.

the red gets a curious look though viktor very much prefers the vibes of the earworm. this is familiar at least, a touch less chaotic and oddly pleasant despite being basically a hole in the ground with way too many people. and an actual worm, as it turns out. viktor regards it in fascination as they move.

it's good to sit though, and viktor watches someone nearby an odd looking mushroom then start giggling in a slightly alarming way. huh. his focus goes back on pal and potential drinks.]

Since you are the clear expert what would you suggest? [his tone is amused, leaning his crutch off in the corner as he offers,] An ale or beer is usually harmless enough. Mixed drinks are dangerous, you never quite know how much alcohol you're getting. Very easy to down too many.

[Truth be told, he would like something pink and fizzy. Alcohol, in his limited experience, which is the new year's party and the walk to this table a moment ago... smells? It stinks. He definitely caught a whiff of some cheap champagne smelling like wet yeast on the walk over here, so his suggestion is anything that doesn't come with a noxious odor.

He is still squinting up at the drinks list, though. With a hum, he sits back, tapping his fingers on the table before—]

I don't know what any of this means. There's a blue one in that picture, how advisable would that one be?

[He points; it's certainly a cocktail, fizziness unknown.]

Better question: does beer smell like wet mud?

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