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

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.

[Does Palamedes have a good working knowledge of trysts in the lecture hall, a fine question, one that is probably not entirely appropriate without a drink and a half of Blue swimming around in his system right now. He shakes his head - maybe on paper, does reading material count - and shrugs one shoulder.]

Me? No. You don't? You were so- [he waves a hand; thorough? To say nothing of how he apparently made use of props — Palamedes does remember the artful tousling of his hair and some pointedly undone buttons, a thought that he dwells on for a heartbeat too long - before usernames and clever titles pull him back to the present.]

I've been through my share of terrible novels; I have one from home, I'll lend it to you. It's garish and political, you'll like it.

[In the bad novel roast kind of way, the same way Palamedes likes it, he's sure. His gaze wanders over to the guards dragging the would-be pummeler away, like, it's novel - he's seen his fair share of violence (necromancer perk!), but not so much an earnest brawl. With knives, even.]

Oh; there's a system, [he says with a nod, and looks back at Viktor (who is leaned in a fraction closer now, and smirking, and whose hair is still just a little tousled, and hmm-)] Helpful— I try not to be in grabbing distance of anyone throwing a punch, but...

[Helpful indeed. He's paying full attention to fight or flight tutorials.]

Not in the academic variety. I always went out for any 'trysts.' [viktor answers with a wave of the hand. hard to say if he'd be as easily open about this without the help of blue but for the moment he sees nothing odd about it.] I didn't trust any of the academy students enough to take a risk like that, most of them didn't like the dirty trencher coming up and stealing top of the class from them.

I did see plenty of it when I worked for the dean though. It boggles the mind stupid smart people can be with the right incentive. [enough he really has used it as a way to get out of trouble twice in his life now, this one with much better results. he did put more effort into it, and it wasn't one of the smartest women in the city catching them.

that little fact makes him smile- of course pal would have some ridiculous novels of this nature. it somehow clicked into the overall picture so well it barely needs a second thought.] I'd like to see it. That does mean that you are now officially in charge of naming this hypothetical book, though.

[the trouble is cleared now, two guys thrown on their ass and the noise level back to only pretty loud. viktor does not sit back regardless because... he is comfortable and it's easier to hear palamedes this way.] I'd be more worried about a barfight breaking out and getting dragged into it. Mob mentality is an odd and powerful thing at times. That or people just enjoy being included, even if it's throwing a chair across the room.

[Here's a fun game to play: ask a good friend about his trysts and then be surprised when the mind wanders directly to said trysts of the non-academic variety. Now that's mystique, if Palamedes has ever heard it. A corner of his mind snags on that - trysts - and stays there, all the while a groundswell of defensiveness rises in him at the thought of Viktor being called something like a "dirty trencher," in any circumstance. It has all the crassness of "unfinished inbred," but context, he's sure, is everything.]

The dean? [Hmhm, tidbits of Viktor's world - the stuffier half, anyway.] More like the academy here than the Sixth's boards and boards and more boards, then.

[There really aren't things to do in the Sixth besides become a Scholar or a soldier, so - add another point to the list of fun cultural differences. He takes a Blue swig, holding up a finger of his bandaged hand to convey a wait, he's working. He's thinking of a title right now, and since the concept of bar fights is relevant, the title is...]

Earworm Paradise: A Scholar's Quest for Love and Fortune (and Fights). [He tilts his head toward Viktor just so at the end, to signify the parentheses with a less serious tone - as if he were serious this whole time.] I'm thinking a triology— no; a quartet. An entire saga, with at least one chair thrown per installment.

What do you think? Marketable? I should be writing this down; did you see any pens on the way in? [He says this as he takes a pen out of his pocket, but of course he does; and without further deliberation he stands halfway to scrape his chair to the side, moving his seat closer to Viktor so they might collaborate on this effort.

Here is a paper napkin. It has a worm printed in the corner. Palamedes writes 'HEIST DRAMA' across the top in neat little letters.]

Oh, the professor would love that. He's brilliant beyond compare but... cautious. He's also functionally immortal so he he thinks taking a decade to handle a task is a fair estimate.

[odd mix in his tone there of genuine respect and genuine frustration. shockingly! dying man and immortal man butt heads. who would have thought.] But he is also the head of Piltover's council, which is a blessing and a curse. So a dean with an incredible amount of power and largely passive in using it.

[viktor waits for the grand reveal, and when it lands he can't help another laugh. less off a chuckle and more a laugh proper, aided by alcohol and, wow, good company. he recovers to bring a hand to his chin and muse solemnly, offering a nod after a beat.] I like it, it promises a variety of flavors that makes you curious if it can actually deliver. A shame we have no one to write it.

[or do you.... anyway he watches pal fuss around, unbearably fond of the man in a moment that doesn't surprise him this time. for once he just enjoys the feeling of it, watching someone you so genuinely enjoy and their quirks just reminding why they're delightful. it makes his answer a beat slow as he forces his gaze down to the napkin instead.]

The bartender had one, I think you may need to let it go. [he leans in to tap under the title and say,] Make sure to have a note about the chair throwing, that seems integral to the atmosphere we're building here.

[Palamedes makes a face that involves a little too much nose-wrinkling and brow-furrowing - the two drinks in tipsy version of the face he'd ordinarily make, at someone who loves boards and boards and boards. They're a hassle, he's already expressed — much as it would be interesting to meet someone immortal (and not out of their goddamn mind), Palamedes' innate desire to do things immediately would surely not go over well.]

Respectfully, that's a waste. 'Tomorrow' is too late— but he was your... boss? Mentor? I shouldn't speak too ill.

[Said with a touch more solemnity, because he's serious on that point no matter how much he means the 'waste' part, too - there are probably worse immortals in this very town! Somewhere! Maybe!

He nods though, and adds the part about throwing chairs ('chairs: thrown, 4x min,' a thing that will make perfect sense in the morning). Now more than ever he's completely forgotten about the rest of their surroundings; everything has dialed in to sitting here with Viktor and writing incredibly good literary notes, while some muffled music thumps not-unpleasantly in the background, and the alcohol burn of the Blue Drink has settled into a warmth in his stomach that spreads steadily up into his chest.

Idly, he's aware of Viktor's proximity, and leans into it a fraction without really thinking. What else would the next great literary masters (backup career 2) do but quite literally put their heads together to pour over notes? He adds 'loud: OK / quiet: run,' recalling Viktor's explanation of the bar fights. This, too, will make sense later.

Ah, and,] I'll draft a prologue if I have time. I'd been writing a sequel to that novel I brought with me, but for uninteresting reasons I had to write it from the top, from memory...

[Point being: he will do this.]

[viktor couldn't agree with that face more, snorting at the 'respectfully.'] A little of both and please, speak some ill. I care very much about the professor but I often want to strangle him. Tomorrow is too late and he's let topside feed off the undercity unchecked for too long.

[well, the drinks are making him a little less guarded about those opinions, bit of frothiness there he recognizes and shakes his head at with an apologetic look. you know what would fix this? another sip of his drink. can't go wrong.

so a thing about viktor and proximity is he likes it too. in any form, he likes casual touch and likes being close to other people, though there are few he trusts enough to want that close. pal is one of them, and without jayce around and his tendency for casual affection things have felt a touch empty.

mostly meaning when they accidentally brush in any way viktor makes no move to pull away, trying to ignore the fact that maybe he should. it's fine if pal isn't moving away and he's not respecting that, yes? yes, he thinks so. he's going to think so because he doesn't want to move away himself.]

You write? [he asks, glancing to him with a bit of surprise.] You've written a whole novel? What is it about?

[this genuinely impresses him, he is so not a creative type in the slightest aside from the mechanical.]

[That gets him to chuckle, although not for the content; for the newfound fire Viktor has in him to talk about his frustrating boss-mentor, and his easy agreement that tomorrow is too late. Palamedes is familiar with not having enough time; he can only imagine what that feels like when applied to an entire city.

So he scribbles some more idle notes that will definitely make sense in the morning about this new heist romance fight novel (series), leaning onto his elbow and into Viktor's space by another inch, only half-thinking about it. He has a similar thought: he misses Camilla, and the easy way only two people who've been around each other their whole lives can continue to be around each other. Viktor isn't a replacement, god no, in the part of his heart occupied by people important to him, Viktor and Camilla have their own respectful spaces—

(which is only achingly sentimental, but he's a little drunk, so it's alright)

But it's comfortable, in a way he hadn't anticipated folding himself onto a wooden bar seat for not one but two drinks would actually be.]

Do you want to put him in the book? [every novel needs a resident background fuddy-duddy, for sure,] My novel is about... necromancer marriage politics.

[The first one sucked, so he's writing a fix-it fic. He wiggles the pen emphatically:]

The first installment had far too much tedious misunderstanding and unkind things to say about the sort of person who goes to sexy parties — a hobby that sounds perfectly fine to me, assuming no one is being forced to attend — and so I am adding a number of improvements and a fair few charming friends to sit pointedly outside the realm of "love interest," both of whom I have tossed out and exchanged for a new pair, anyway.

[Which is a lot of words, and so he blinks and looks at Viktor as if to wonder if that was too much insane plot summary of the sequel to a book he hasn't read.]

Ironically, I had too much free time.

Yes, I very much do. [just instant. the idea of heimendinger living on in another world in a thrilling romance novel is just exactly what he needs in his life right now. it especially helps him let go of any lingering frustrations in favor of fonder ones- and honestly he'd probably find the whole thing funny anyway. the professor was more chaotic than people realized under the passive nature.

he thinks that the last time he was curled over a paper with someone like this it was jayce, sky eagerly to the side offering suggestions. he wonders what both of them would say to him helping with the plot of a romance novel- he wonders what jayce would think of pal, really. he can't imagine they wouldn't get along, though he's skewed and thinks they're both lovely people so who wouldn't get along with them.

how can you not get along with someone who wrote a book about necromancer marriage politics in his spare time between research?]

Sexy parties. [he repeats with a nod.] And these are something that happens when necromancer marriage and politics are concerned?

[it was a bit of an insane summary but viktor is just drunk enough not to notice that, just taking it as it comes.] That is a good choice, misunderstandings can be interesting but largely they are very frustrating when overplayed.

[Oh, that was fast. Palamedes laughs again and jots down another comprehensible note: mentor-boss expy; Viktor consult. So congratulations, Viktor, for now being irrevocably connected to this novel, because he's going to have characterization questions. Assuming he can remember most of this, and not just repeat with perfect clarity the contextless nonsense he's writing down.]

You'll have to tell me about him more, later. I'd hate to paint a picture without any nuance.

[But he'll probably take a couple shots at the immortal stubbornness, just for their shared amusement. The final draft of this novel will either be literary greatness from cover to cover, or crap.

Either way: it will have been worth it.]

On the Third, maybe — most sexy-parties novels are set on the Third, occasionally the Fifth.

[He reaches for his drink to polish off another quarter of it, vaguely recalling he had a plan to keep track of his body's response to alcohol consumed in relatively short timespans - but, well, oops. Note one: the rest of the notes fell victim to his limited focus, which is presently entirely occupied by novels and Viktor.]

Of course we agree — you've immaculate taste. Brilliant even in the art of literary criticism, which surprises and delights me in equal measure.

[Or: Viktor has become The Editor, double congrats.]

Very well, I would warn get ready to describe his magnificent facial hair often. [even as a yordle that was impressive. viktor smiles down at the notes, satisfied, as though this now cemented heimendinger's place in a real, solid novel.

he downs some more of his drink, now nearly done and feeling a pleasant buzz to his thoughts he knows means he's had more than he intended. he takes only a moment to categorize the feeling and assess the situation before blowing it off because he'd rather focus on the novel, on pal.

it will be fine, they're allowed this, aren't they? a moment to breath. they deserve it. pal deserves it, he really does.]

The Third... does that mean they're a wealthier planet? Rich people do love marriage contracts and parties. [he twirls his hair as he considers it, a quirk he usually has when considering only the more complex formulas and schematics.] I need to make a chart about all these planets. It actually does make things easier than remembering family names. Just numbers in a neat row.

[the praise for his literary critique has him grinning despite himself. he's doing that a lot tonight.] Flattery. Let us use this knowledge of what does not work here- overused misunderstandings, hm... jealousy written in a demeaning way. Oh, that ah... how do you say it? The ones with- love triangles, yes yes, that. They can be very annoying.

[frankly he's surprising himself with how many opinions he has here. he hasn't even read many normal novels but apparently when he sets his mind to being useful to pal here he makes it work.]

[Ah, he adds facial hair and circles it twice, then draws an arrow to connect it to the first note. Yes, this is the ideal planning process.]

'Three for the gleam of a jewel or a smile,' [he says near-automatically, with the lilt of a line of poetry, like it's a line pulled from a set, because it is. He glances up from the notes, the intended quick explanation of that hitching on Viktor doing this thing with his hair again, that he'd noticed before — little things, the things that come together to make the whole picture of Viktor when he thinks about him, like details to put in a book. Hm.]

They — yes. Relatively; they like their gossip and fashion and backstabbing each other whenever it seems the most fun. They have princesses, even.

[Both of whom are degrees of Off, in his humble opinion. Still, it makes sense to Palamedes why something raunchy and full of politics would be set there and not, say, the Sixth or something.

He listens to Viktor, ah... tear down a bunch of literary tropes, delighted all over again; after a moment he puts the pen down on the napkin and slides it a bit to the side, to be more in front of Viktor than himself. Their arms brush and then press ever-so-lightly together; he lets it happen.]

Here; your turn. I agree with everything, for the record.

[poetry, that has viktor looking over with a touch of surprise. it sounds almost like something out of a spell, and he kind of wants to hear the whole thing with how fluidly pal offered it.] A poem?

Ah. [focus.] Yes, court intrigue is exactly the environment for romance novel I imagine. Necromancer princesses... that's an odd thought.

[part of him still sees necromancers as the type living in caves and towers, digging bodies up. he wonders if that's rude now that he knows one, it's not like he thinks pal would steal a dead body. probably. not without a good reason at least.

enough of that, his eyes draw to the press of their arms before he focuses himself to focus. he adjusts the napkin to write in a spindly hand 'Avoid: obsessive jealousy, love triangles.' he draws a little triangle next to that because it seemed fitting. ]

Well that's disliked aspects, what about things to try and accomplish? [what makes a academic thriller romance adventure good? he hasn't the slightest clue. his brow furrows as he tries to think of what he likes about romance in a story and largely comes up empty handed.]

[Palamedes snorts, a deeply inelegant noise that he covers with the back of his hand, shaking his head and reaching for what's left of his drink to collect himself. An odd thought! Imagine, the Tridentarii being looked in the face and called an odd thought. Palamedes would give anything to see it.]

And you haven't even met them, [he says, after he controls himself back down to a flickering amusement. He drums his fingers on the table, those not attached to the arm engaged in extended contact with Viktor's, and watches him write. The triangle is a nice touch.

For the poem, almost an afterthought, he says smoothly,] 'Six for the truth over solace in lies.' Naturally.

[Nothing could possibly sound more Sixth and less poetic, which is what he enjoys about it, no shade on poetry whatsoever. Is... is that a romantic trope that can be included, somehow? No lies? He wonders at the prospect of intrigue driven purely by interest, and how compelling that might be.

It's compelling to him. Ah, well,] Several heists. Clever wordplay, if you'll indulge me.

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