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

[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?

[he leans glances over his own list- well, it's very blue. what that means he isn't sure in this world but he's kind of assuming it's one of those 'stronger than god' or 'barely more than a juice.' russian roulette of alcohol.

he does take note that smell seems to be a problem, which leads him to think pal probably isn't one for most alcohols. maybe the blue drink would be best if it doesn't secretly have something that could blind him.]

Hm, it would depend on if you want an advisement to keep you from passing out at the table or more along the lines of encouraging a sense of adventure. If it's the latter I would say it looks like an experience.

Eh, it smells like yeast, I would say. [he squints at the menu a moment more before deciding,] I am trying this blue one. It seems suitably celebratory.

Well, I'm not going to trade any of my extremely lucrative stones for yeast in a mug, [he says with a scoff, sitting back - and then pushing up from the table, motioning for Viktor to stay put.

Surely alcohol will help Palamedes hold still. Stay tuned.]

We'll both have the blue one. Stay here; I'll get them.

[It's a picture, certainly, the skinny form of Palamedes marching into the crowd closer to the bar itself as if he belongs there. Credit him that, he gets up to the bar with no issue; other than a few glances as people step aside, whatever he's doing seems to work.

(It's the Warden voice. He's accustomed to being listened to, at least some of the time.)

Actually ordering the blue drinks is a little more complicated, because he just says "the blue one," but within a few minutes he's returning with one blue drink in each hand, passing Viktor the one he isn't awkwardly clutching in his bandaged hand, in case he tips that one over in a moment.]

Here's to the mystique of these drinks, hm?

[there's the part of viktor that wants to argue- he'll pay for himself, he'll pay for them both, pal's the one who bled for this so surely to be square he should buy the drinks. of course he's learning pal might actually be sentimental and kind instead of interested in the spirit of equal exchange taken to such degrees, so viktor sits back and keeps an eye on his trip.

he'll just have to be sure to make it up by getting something for the house later, buying the groceries or whatever. concerns managed like a healthy, functioning adult kind of.

the undercity in him is kind of worried pal will get accosted though for no other reason than existing in a bar, that's really all it takes. being a bit of a skinny nerd doesn't help. but he has it and viktor's lips quirk gratefully as he takes his drink, lifting it in toast.]

And to a successful heist, regardless of the hiccups on the way.

[he'll clink his glass lightly against pal's, taking a drink and... huh. it's a flavor alright, not what he was expecting at all, a little more organic than he was expecting, a little sour tang. not bad, he can't tell how actually alcoholic it is aside from a soft burn on the way down which is either promising or a future problem. he regards the cup closely as he blandly says,] I haven't the slightest clue what we are ingesting.

[Viktor, be normal about drinks. Palamedes has no designs on equivalent exchange in mind for this - if anything, he wants Viktor to sit and be comfortable instead of buffeted through the bar crowd, and the actual payment is a nonissue. How much could two blue mystery drinks cost? He has nice rocks to spare.

And if anyone tries to fight them, he knows a good trick that holds a body still until he can vacate the premises, so there's that. Here's to heists, and mystique, and drinking this acid blue mistake for the sake of all of it.

He takes a ginger little sip, brow furrowed, as if he will suddenly discover he's a savant for alcohol — ah, but no, it's just Blue Flavor.]

Neither do I. Do you feel more celebratory yet? I could start a timer.

I imagine it will take at least half the cup for the celebratory effects to kick in, but given all the uncertain variables here who could say. [viktor muses before taking another drink. it doesn't offer any further information and he wonders if it will stain their tongues blue. that's usually a plus when it comes to Blue Flavor in the humble opinion he settled on when he was maybe five.]

To answer your previous question an undercity bar would have far more near nudity or far more violence. Also the music isn't so loud I cannot hear myself think, which is rather a plus. All in all this is a rather pleasant place. [he's genuinely surprised it isn't rowdier, honestly. the big guard are probably the major reason there, or maybe the massive worm that seems to be the namesake in one way or another. he's not sure what pissing off that would do and doesn't want to know.]

[One moment please, Palamedes has to take a second to imagine Viktor sitting in a rowdy bar full of almost-nudity and loads-o-violence, which is momentarily just funny enough to get him to smirk over the rim of his glass, as he raises it for another sip.

Well, it's Blue, for sure. He's already working on ill-advised blood loss and being mostly gray cloaks by mass, so - who knows if he'll even feel it when the liquor starts to kick in, or if it will hit him all at once and he'll fall over. Time to find out.]

Good — I don't think they'd give me my stone back for the drinks. It was more hectic at new year's— in The Red, that big place we passed. I'd credit the holiday for that, though. What else do they do for fun, in the undercity?

That place is... quite a lot. It looks too expensive for my tastes to be honest. [ viktor muses, though he's kind of curious. why was there apparently a call to make pal wear a costume there? was it some kind of very high class brothel that also sold drinks? that kind of makes the costume thing sound far more than it just being 'pal wear some damn color for once.'] Why did you need to change your clothes there exactly?

Oh... drugs I suppose. [i mean he's not wrong, though he offers an amused smile.] A joke- or well, only some people at least. Let's see... brothels were fairly numerous, gambling, especially card games. Younger people enjoyed climbing the buildings and jumping from roof to roof, live music was very common, sometimes in the street.

Most people worked very long hours so their time off was spent eh... blowing off steam, as they say. Oh, there was an arcade I remember, did you have anything like that in the Sixth?

There was a talent show, and even as an audience member, dressing up was... good? I don't honestly recall. I still have the outfit.

[Did he. Steal it. He may have just gone home wearing it. Oh well. Palamedes' life of casual crime continues.

Anyway, oh! Drugs! Good god, but the undercity is so very much compared to the Sixth, which is earnestly just a Library. Palamedes isn't scandalized so much as he's curious? Intrigued, maybe? This is literally the kind of thing he's only read about in fiction, given his upbringing and own insistence on spending all of his waking hours working.]

No. [nope.........] We used to stand around and look at the view screens, but Cam got tired of being around the panel cleaner — we're allergic.

[Big childhood fun!! He slouches down in his seat some, swishing his drink lightly in his glass and watching it, hmm.]

There was the Copper Garden, but that was where we entombed the important people. I'm starting to suspect the Sixth is boring.

[viktor is starting to wonder if pal just likes taking things handed to him, like the pen. in all honesty he kind of approves of this, the undercity in him is always there for taking what you can get and making use of it. even if it might be a little illegal.

they're really a little too easy on casual crimes both. at this rate the crime wave will never cease.] Huh, well cloth is always useful I suppose. That place, what is it exactly? [still betting on brothel.

viktor sits back with a sip as he considers that- yeah that's... hm. he supposes life on a planet you can't even go out into is probably smaller and also maybe not as exciting, aside from the library, which viktor still finds terribly exciting. maybe not for children who could use things like 'enrichment' and 'fresh air'.]

Boring is subjective but yes, I think I can agree you seem to have had a limited number of activities. It's a little hard for me to imagine, you are a necromancer with access to what sounds like a superb library. That sounds thrilling on paper.

[to him at least.] And to be fair the undercity is eh... a lot, I think. And a great deal of it I could not partake in, what with the- [he gestures to the crutch. he doesn't typically get into this but he trusts pal so he finds it surprisingly easy.] A lot of watching as well, though no view screens.

[He shakes his head; earnestly, he doesn't know, he only went there one time. Were many of the activities there probably sexually charged? Sure. Did Palamedes drink pink fizzy drinks and sit on a beanbag chair while not being harangued about his fashion sense? Indeed.]

You'll love this one— we didn't have paper. It's too rare. We have flimsy, it's oil-based.

[And mm, his gaze flicks to the crutch and back again, and he nods lightly. He's glad, privately, that little Viktor had his boats to look at and the smaller ones to play with, amidst the undercity's apparently endless excitement. All things considered, he'd have done just fine on the Sixth...]

The view screens get old after the nth time you watch the constructs do the cleaning. Once you've seen your hundredth space rock collision, you get bored enough to go do anything else.

[That said,] You would have loved our labs. I was a terror to every committee that let me stand in front of them, so you can imagine the kind of work we got up to.

[oh he does love that, or more it just gives him Questions and he loves those.] What did you have then? Digital medium like the omnis?

[viktor takes another few drinks, taking note he feels a little warmer so he assumes the alcohol in this isn't completely flimsy at least. mostly keeping focus on the conversation and the images it conjures.] I used to think being stuck in the undercity was a little stifling when there was so much more out there. I suppose I took for granted having an 'out there.'

[the bit about the labs makes him smile though, it's pretty easy to imagine a younger palamedes terrorizing the staff, maybe with their favorite game of a shitload of a questions.] That I will gladly be jealous of. Though it sounds like they are quite protective of prying eyes on their research.

No — garbage, plasticky garbage. I've gotten my hands on real paper now; I won't go back.

[He's Passionate about this. Their paper substitute sucks and is terrible, real paper is king, maybe he does prefer Trench to the Sixth for this one single reason (and of course, all the sentiment).

He waves away stereotypical Sixth protectiveness; as the Warden he gets to look at whatever he wants, so it's not wrong, but he has to sign forms to get his eyeballs on things. Now-]

It's true that most of our visitors get shuffled off to look at the view screens and then politely sent home. The other Houses can assume whatever they want to about us, that we're bizarre recluses, anything — it's no one's fault in the Sixth that the other Houses would cause disastrous amounts of mess if they tried to apply our half-finished work.

[They're not smart enough? There are about two people in the galaxy Palamedes trusts to maybe be alright with Sixth work, which is generous of him. He takes an extended sip of Blue Drink and wrinkles his nose at it, then,]

You'd only have to wave my name around and they'd have to show you, you know. I'd sign all the appropriate requisitions.

[oof, viktor grimaces at that. yeah, trench would win by a long shot then. even the undercity had paper. sixth sadly lost a great many points or that.] You at least had chalkboards, yes? [because he's really feeling for the sixth right now. that is rough, buddy.

ok, he can't help a small laugh, shoulders shaking a little with it.] It is good to hear academia truly never changes between any reality. Of course I have no doubt it's true, I spent too many sleepless nights imagining the mess some fools could make of Hextech if they managed to get their hands on it.

[actually he genuinely tries not to think of that stolen hexgem that definitely isn't going to blow him up at any point. his smile is a little more genuine at 'appropriate requisitions.' impossibility or not he's flattered.]

Ah yes, the Warden it was? I offer you the same but I am not sure our singular lab would be quite as impressive. Though I could start up the old crystal stabilization- it makes everything in a small area float, including people. Quite amusing on a slow day.

Enough, yes. [Something he didn't have to steal, back in the Library. Lucky!] At least necromancy comes with a failsafe — several, if I think about it. An ordinary person getting their hands on something powered by necromancy won't manage to do anything with it, no matter how clever the machinery is.

[Which is a thing that has its pros and cons, he thinks. Necromancy is broadly a destructive art for the Empire to wield against its enemies, and yet he's spent most of his life trying to reverse engineer medical marvels out of its twin, a thing pointless if only necromancers can use it. Viktor's technology provides for the people — and could make just as terrible a mess, it sounds like.

Truly, they are the most long-suffering academics in any world, anywhere.

That "stabilization" and "makes everything float" are, apparently, supposed to happen together is intriguing? He thinks about it, amused.]

Master Warden, if you want to be specific. I wouldn't say no to an afternoon floating around the room. But I would bring my notebook.

[alright sixth, you get points back then. viktor nods, a soft sigh as he says,] And that was always the concern with Hextech. Perfect failsafes were impossible if we went the scale we wished to. The dean was particularly adamant about the dangers, but he is over three hundred years old and saw the Rune Wars for himself.

[he tries to imagine necromacy brought to the people and fails, largely due to limited understanding but also he can't imagine such a thing being allowed in a world where necromacy seems to be a power currency. that is not something that would be easily allowed to spread.

he tips his head.] Master Warden, not a bad ring. Did you enjoy it? I can't imagine the headache of such a position, to be entirely honest.

[he's always preferred the shadows to the limelight, but that might be an ingrained instinct rather than anything else. he's a little curious why pal went such a route, though maybe his ideas just demanded more action than the shadows would afford.]

You would be welcome to. I'd even give you free reign of all Jayce's pens. You are the hero who bleed for our recent acquisition.

High risk, high reward. [He nods, goes for another sip of Blue. It is—warm in here, more than the rush of humidity right at the start, isn't it? He should have set that timer after all.]

I wanted it; I passed all the tests. I needed the relative freedom to do what I wanted to do without maximum interference from the Oversight Body, so — [he waves a hand in a little arc, like, tada-] Master Warden. I covered decent ground for a while.

[And aw, how sweet, all the pens-specifically-Jayce's (cold). He leans his other arm on the table and rolls the weight of his head into his palm, blinking a few times. Hmm, yes, hmm— that's alcohol.]

You think I couldn't make off with yours? You'd be surprised.

Precisely. The ideas that change the world are not ones with simple pathways and solutions. [he taps the table as if that makes his point.] And are they not the ones most worth the effort to try?

[a nod, and he asks,] What did you want though? Did you have a particular goal in mind? [maybe like jayce and his dream, or like viktor who was always a more open ended 'make the world easier for those who come next.'

maybe just freedom. that would be fair, he thinks.

he snorts, putting his now more empty than full glass upon the table.] I could just cheat and have Sky keep an eye on my desk. Our assistant, she frighteningly meticulous when she puts her mind to something. Perhaps I could not defeat you but she could, I think.

No; sometimes they're so straightforward it hurts. [Ah, but he waves his glass a little, like, semantics! He knows.] I don't disagree— those make the most compelling stories.

[Which he probably has opinions about, but then there's his particular goal, phrased so simply because of course Viktor doesn't know - it's an odd, almost underwater feeling, to think of his very first goal now, in casual conversation in this bar.

If he's making a face, he isn't paying attention to it.]

I had a friend in the Seventh, [which he has explained to Viktor, so he won't do it again, good god.] I wanted to help.

[There's a tangle of complications sitting just under the surface of even that much, and Palamedes has told only the half that ripped out his heart to someone who didn't already know all the players — he has far too much Blue Drink in him to want to get into that part now. This is a celebration, not a - whatever recounting his baggage counts as.

Pens. Those, instead. He can only imagine what kind of person would be a suitable assistant to both Viktor and Jayce, based solely on how Viktor has described him - she must be something else.]

I've never had a nemesis; I'd enjoy the challenge.

Edited 2022-04-15 08:05 (UTC)

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