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

[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)

[viktor shrugs a shoulder, tapping at the rim of his glass. stories, something about the idea makes him feel tired. like it's all a play with a curtain call, to be edited as the teller saw fit.] Or the most tragic, or the most moving.

[ah, but that answer distracts him fully. the seventh and their bred illness to create powerful necromancers, he remembers that well. it's pretty easy to get a basic picture of the kind of help someone from the seventh might need, and the fact the statement was not finished with assurance of a successful outcome isn't promising.

he thinks he's trod on pal's feelings enough with his questions on camilla so he resolutely bites back any questions, though he slots the information into his mind in a growing picture of pal and the life he had before.

it's a touch strange, having the urge to offer assurance but no proper words to do so, more out of fear of making things worse. caring a great deal and not trying to deny that fact or rationalize it, simply facing it for what it was.

he picks up his drink, shaking his mind of the thoughts and offers,] We are terrible at the celebration aspect of this. [like really. he offers a crooked smile almost like an apology, downs a bit more of it and makes a little face at just how much Blue flavor hits his tongue with it.] For example, I should be ribbing you for staining the chalkboard, eh... something something window troubles. In turn you remind me a janitor at the school now thinks I have very little common sense and think a lecture hall is an excellent place for a tryst.

[He can almost see the gears turning after he says Seventh, he knows the look; the same one Gideon had given him on the last day at Canaan House, the one Paul had given him across the tableau of memory back in winter. It's alright - a personal tragedy that is in many ways three personal tragedies all tangled into each other, and stretched to erode for years and years before the finish, well, he doesn't advertise it.

But he knows the look, so Viktor doesn't have to say anything. (Can hold his questions for another day, yes, yes.) There's a tender sort of care in not saying anything at all, in the crooked smile and the slide back into their celebration, acknowledging it but not at the same time. Despite all odds it's the simple pleasure in being considered, and Palamedes nearly aches for it. Part of him (likely, he assumes, the part full of liquor) wants to spill his history everywhere simply because Viktor cares about him and will let him do it, but the part of him with sense is more than content to leave it be and watch Viktor make faces at his drink because he cares about Viktor, so—

They are celebrating. Good god, is this why people drink in the first place? He wants to say, Ask me later, or, I'll tell you eventually, I would have, inevitably, but they are Celebrating. He lets that go implied in the quasi-smile he manages to give, the thing he does with his eyebrows to exaggerate his way back into a celebratory mood.

Okay.

They're celebrating.]

You want to celebrate by making fun of each other? I've so much left to learn about drinking. [ha ha] At least you gave him a story to tell — and of course, you can never go into that building again.

[A sage nod, and as he lifts his Blue to drink the rest of it, a more fully-formed, having-a-good-time smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.]

[viktor eases as the mood lightens- good, he seemingly said the right thing, he thinks. and as it turns out 'starting to maybe have a good time' is a better smile for pal than the heaviness before, and feels something to celebrate more than the chalkboard. gods, he's getting sentimental. he still privately thinks as much, where only he can judge himself for his sap and he decides to cut himself some slack just this once.

it's a relief to be able to give a distraction that isn't the alcohol, which he also takes the chance to finish in a long gulp. yikes, Blue. he regards the glass for a moment before setting it down. he's really not sure if he wants another or not. ]

Do you want another? [he asks, more to steal the chance to get the second round if so more than anything. he offers a grin for the rest though.] It is not making fun, it is... hm, bonding. Time honored in matters such as these I am sure.

Just as time honored as students making questionable choices when they think with something other than their brain. [he runs a hand over his face, a touch pink as he gives a helpless laugh.] I cannot believe it actually worked. I thought it would confuse enough just to give you a few more moments to escape at best.

[Does he want another mysterious Blue, the big question. He probably shouldn't - surely Viktor does not deserve to endure him drunk, whatever that may look like, but at the same time, what more appropriate venue is there to test the effects of alcohol on one's body? He's celebrating, but he's also working, lowkey.

That, and the longer they have drinks in front of them, the longer they can prolong this little outing - which Palamedes finds he is inclined to do, brief dip in the mood and everything. They live together, true, they share a workspace, also true, but they can't repeatedly discuss hobbies and outings being good ideas and then not do them, yes? This is well outside any wheelhouse Palamedes may lay claim to, but it's fun. It's worth it.]

I could have another, [he says, and even chuckles lightly at 'time honored in matters such as these.' Bonding, definitely; it is, actually, but he still reserves the right to point out the ridiculousness of it.]

You sounded... thorough, [is what he has to say to the wild secret lecture hall tryst gambit (tm), and it sounds more suggestive than he means "thorough" to sound, but, ah, oops. It was the gambit!] If he'd come in I might have panicked and thrown a wastebasket at him, so thank you for your sacrifice.

['Twas very noble, and so on and so forth. He can't help the pinprick of fondness he feels when he catches Viktor's blushing, endeared - and reminded at once that, aha, even with near-nudity clubs in the undercity, the Sixth's grand mission to give its hardest battles to its sexiest soldiers (paraphrased) is another weird Sixth thing he's been desensitized to.]

The whole thing sounds like it belongs in a novel, you know, [he wiggles his fingers; a sexy novel.] The Arcane Scholar's Flight of Fancy, something like that.

[honestly viktor has a similar thought process- it's less about if he wants another and more that he'd like things to continue. so that affirmation has him reaching for his crutch and standing, no wobble so that's a good sign. rio is basically their designated driver at this point anyway, it's fine.] Give me a moment then.

[off he goes. it's a little more of a process, because he needs to make two trips with only one hand to carry said drinks back. so pal gets one places in front of him with a little quirk of viktor's lips before he's going back to get his own, sliding back into his seat. at the very least undercity made him used to navigating rowdy crowds so there's no issues, though he's pretty sure he passed a pair of men snarling at each other, about to cause a ruckus. given the burly guards he's not really worried about it.]

Where were we- ah, thorough. [he has to laugh at that, a shake of the head and still damningly pink. the alcohol, surely. that's what he can blame that on.] I was considering pinching the side of my neck to try and sell it further but alas.

[honestly the idea of pal panic throwing a trashcan would have really made the whole evening. he was curious what 'emergency measures' were and now he thinks he has a little more of an idea.

the fact pal can think of such a spot on raunchy romance novel title is incredibly amusing and a little endearing, has viktor nearly choking a little on his drink. he puts it down, hand to his mouth for a moment as he recovers.] That does sound rather spot on. I'm not sure we're doing our heists right if the excuses we use to save ourselves are more interesting a story than the heist itself.

[Ah, and Palamedes nearly offers to go get the drinks himself, but there he goes - and he seems amused enough at having to take two trips, and so Palamedes allows himself to be that much more endeared by the sight of Viktor casually passing by a pair about to start swinging without even a blink. That he can do, but janitors make him blush — it's sweet.

He picks up his new drink only after Viktor has settled, nodding in thanks before the first sip. Hmm, it's even Bluer, somehow, a great sign whether or not he's imagining it.]

A little darkblood smear would have done the trick, [he offers, a joke. The berry-juice darkblood stains could like a little light bruising, at a glance, which is obviously all that this gambit requires.

He does something stupid again with his eyebrows, though, because raunchy romance titles make Viktor laugh, a fact that is immediately both very amusing and filed away for revisiting later. Allow him to whip up a quick plot for the Flight of Fancy series... no. Maybe later.]

I'd say we've mastered the art of deception, actually. The better story isn't the theft of a chalkboard out of a window? That's excellent.

Another reason to bring a vial of it instead next time, to dab on in case we must make another grand deception. [viktor says dryly, punctuated by the loud thump of those two from before finally getting into a fight proper. it's pretty much immediately pulled apart by the guards, which is really an impressive level of management as far as viktor is concerned.

the conversation is more interesting anyway, and viktor has to give him that.] Maybe our true calling is con artistry. That or workshopping niche academic romance plots. Really what we have to thank is no matter where either of us go academia will likely always be like this. Pent up, dramatic and typically lacking in basic common sense.

[it's not the first time he's glad he left that behind a decade ago. he can't help but wonder how bad that sort of thing gets in the sixth, where what else is there to do but have ridiculous romantic drama? apparently with charts though, which adds a whole layer to it.]

[Palamedes looks over at the fight sort of breaking out, but just for a second - it's handled? Alright then-]

They do say write what you know, [not that he is totally experienced in the illicit tryst arts, like, at all, but he's read some real trashy stuff. That counts for something, probably.]

Well, what about a combination of the two? An academic romance featuring a heist — what would we call it?

[And that fight is taken care of, more or less, but there's still a bit of extra noise carrying this way, so if he must lean further over the table to confer about academia romance, well, so be it. Like this, it's as if their table in the corner is the only one that really matters, almost.

Not to be sentimental or anything, during the raunchy novels part of the evening.]

And I'm curious; how does that over there, [a nod] compare to what usually happens in the undercity?

Would you consider trysts in the lecture hall something you have a good working knowledge of? [he can't help but tease, and honestly? he can't tell if pal would be the type or not.

of course now he's considering pal in that matter, which surely will not awaken anything in him. it really is hard to say, pal is very much a nerd but has a confidence that impresses viktor, that same leadership quality he must have cultivated in the sixth. he's clearly not shy in taking risks, so maybe he really would be the kind of person who would have those academic flings viktor saw too often, supply closets and hushed moments.

this... is likely inappropriate to be pondering, he realizes, taking a drink like a punishment of Blue for doing so before forcing himself to refocus on the conversation.] That does sound more thrilling. Honestly I think you are the one with the gift for these titles. I can barely think of a clever username for the network.

That? Nothing. No one even bled or broke a glass, pulled a knife. [he rests his elbows on the table, glancing to the side to regard the man being dragged away then looking back with a small smirk.] I can teach you a very useful way to know when to avoid a fight breaking out in public. If it is loud? Then it is harmless, just two fools blowing off steam. If it is silent? You should leave. Those were the kinds of fights witness are not tolerated for.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject