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

Hmm, the inherent romance in existential logistics, that always gets me going. [maybe a joke? who can say.] I'm sure you've got fascinating points— not that I need to be convinced.

[That Viktor has points is the draw— no. Well, kind of. He's already smitten; he's only going to be in deeper with each pseudo-philosophical conversation, including that almost-downer one about legacy.

Their arms brush and Palamedes leans in automatically for just a moment, an affectionate press of arm-to-arm while he keeps flipping pages. They do need to, like, go home - but a detour to talk about lasers is a good use of time, actually.]

I would like to see it. I would also like to try it out, if you'll help me to not burn my fingers off.

[Can he shoot an apple or something, what is the done thing? He certainly shouldn't be allowed near these shelves or he'll melt them wrong, but still.]

I've got one of those orbs in the works for you, by the way. I spoke to someone in the marketplace; they'll be sourcing me a bigger one than the smaller, decorative types. [so he doesn't have to steal one off a lamppost, ahem.] Should be soon.

Mm, the worst part was how many counter arguments I managed to come up with along the way. In the spirit of balanced discourse, which of course goes against the ultimate goal of getting you to kiss me.

[his tone is amused, maybe a touch soft again because he's greatly aware there are a great many who would find this sort of everyday behavior annoying, and yet... well here they are. feeding into each other's odd bits in such a delightful way.]

Of course, once I'm sure it's stable you will be the first to try it. That is another perk of our dating to add to the list, access to recreational lasers. [dry, with a crooked smile over, little glances like he needs to make sure this is a very real thing that is happening.

he pulls away from the table though, homeward they go, though that news gets an excited glance over.] Really? I've kept an eye out without much luck, I suppose it's not surprising given the varied usage. Ah- thank you. [just being touched again pal made the effort and even succeeded.]

Oh, you'd be surprised. [Of course, counterarguments lead much more smoothly into kissing now, when they've already established having feelings for each other. Still, can he honestly say he wouldn't have kissed Viktor in a fit of nerd-passion, or as a counter-counterargument? No, not really. But,] I'm glad you opted for a different course, though.

[Much smoother, much neater. Many more lasers, wow, that is a huge plus and one that makes Palamedes chuckle and look up from the notes to shoot him a grin; like, it's a good joke, but it comes with the equally thrilling 'dating'. He does understand the urge to say it out loud a few more times, for the impact...

And also, 'boyfriend who makes lasers' is incredibly dope? Truly, everything's coming up Palamedes. He tucks Viktor's notebook under his arm with his own new ones, and off they go.]

Well— I'm a valuable resource. [A beat. A long beat. Okay,] Full disclosure, I offered a blood trade, but only a handful of drops.

[It's fine!! The local economy is a shambles!!!]

So am I. [he keeps a little close as they walk, still that arm brushing as they head out into the willful machine proper and it's typical crowds. with the constant night it makes the market seem a little odd, he thinks, a little too dark and easy to get lost or robbed.

that admission does get a glance over, a click of his tongue then,] Hm, I should have known for something so valuable. You didn't have to, you know but... it is still appreciated.

[that ends more softly than he'd like, still touched despite himself. still he points with the hand holding the paper bag to say,] But if you need something expensive in the future you should ask me, yes? Repair work is a good bartering currency I've found.

[Hmm, next time, they should be carrying fewer things - mental note. Palamedes has the decency to look a little bit politely apologetic about yet again cutting his hands open for profit, but only just. It's the risks that come after the blood is spent than the blood-spending itself, really— but he's keeping an eye on it, honest.]

I didn't, but I wanted to. [Viktor deserves to be comfortable, and if getting his hands on a Big Orb will help make that happen, then...? Where is the question, because Palamedes sees only one answer to this particular kind of situation.] It's— the most reliable source of a decent trade.

[Not everyone will need a repair whenever they happen to want something; likewise, not everyone will need an eventual blood minister to stitch them up at a convenient time, so - he's being practical! But he holds up his free hand, lightly placating.]

I hear you; I'll avoid rash blood decisions, even for the nicest orbs. As much as I can.

It is. [he can't deny that. the bartering system is both a god send and a nightmare in equal measure, he finds. easier to get by but the lack of real currency makes dangerous things currency in their own right.

still, he worries. he worries a lot really, and worry is one of the cons he would have put on the list. caring about pal is wonderful, he finds, but caring about pal in a place that is destined to hurt him time and time again, in both insidious, small ways and profound ones is difficult. worth it, but very much some of that dreaded vulnerability behind all the walls and acts.

he bumps their shoulders lightly, keeping the grim thoughts from the forefront of his mind at least for the moment.] And when you can't I suppose that's when I'll be able to exercise that firm hand we've spoken about you needing. [he is flirting with his boyfriend in public, terrible.] But no, I am aware we must make do sometimes and this orb- I'll make sure it's worth it, one way or another.

[Ah— and he can fill in the blanks about the bartering system and the low-grade horrors of this place after such a concise response. He gets it, he does; he knows carrying on in his usual necromancer's-sideways-self-care kind of way in Trench is guaranteed to end poorly. Easy as it is to bleed into a little vial for purchases, he doesn't want Viktor to worry.

More than the base level. Something to think about. He reaches out - there are only so many little affectionate touches possible while walking and with no free Viktor hands to hold - and skims a light touch over the back of Viktor's neck, resting there for a moment before pulling away. Flirting and PDA with the boyfriend, absolutely obscene.]

Well, I'm looking forward to that. Both things. [hah,] Really, if the theory about the moon as-interpreted-by-paleblood is correct, this orb will pay for itself. I feel good about it.

[they're going to be arrested. viktor glances over with a smile, that touch extremely effective in brushing away the lingering furrow to his brow, the little lines of stress.]

Hopefully you can use it in your potential blood minister work. It makes me wonder what outside influences might affect other blood types and if that too can be utilized. [the conversation probably has to go on hold for reaching the lamp and all that travel, but once they're in gaze rio runs ahead, the odd lizard scamper in a place she's growing increasingly familiar with.]

Oh, you know I met another of your world. Ortus? From the Ninth, he said. [a pause] Do they all wear that skull makeup?

[When they are inevitably sent to jail for PDA crimes, Palamedes will maintain it was absolutely worth it for the way it eases Viktor's harrowed expression. (This will increase the time of the sentence, of course.)]

I wonder if they put any of the smallest ones on sticks— like an actual magic wand, if it can stimulate a positive bodily response. Hmm.

[He'll bother someone about this immediately, where "immediately" is "as soon as he gets back to Lumenwood," which will not be tonight. Tonight is for Viktor and, apparently, the Ninth - among his favorite topics! Neat.]

Oh— he's an odd one, respectfully. [So very even and measured and devout, in a way that reminds Palamedes inexorably of a stone made smooth by years of wear; melancholy and resilient. An odd one.] I didn't know him before he came here.

That said: they do. [A light snort, like oops, he didn't mention this because he's so accustomed to it-] Maybe not all the time, lately; Ortus Nigenad is... habitual.

Ah, aesthetic and potentially useful. [shockingly he finds the idle idea exchange during what he supposes is a mid date stroll appealing, more fuel for their inevitable imprisonment for sentimental nerd crimes.]

Hm, that is a fair assessment I would say. He reminded me of eh- still waters running deep, and such. His devotion is impressive though. [no mistaking the man wanted to do right by his own, which viktor finds an admirable trait when put on the right people. this harrow and gideon seem the right people from what he's heard.

when they reach the bunker rio's waiting with a head tilt at them, and viktor punches in the no-6 code so they can enter. immediately he turns to press a peck of a kiss to pal's lips- privacy now! - looking pleased with himself as he heads in to put the bag of fried fish and potatoes away.] Undercity dwellers sometimes do facepaint but somehow the full skull look was... well, I suppose it is a commitment to the aesthetic.

[a pause and he turns to say,] He's a good sort, I think. I hope he'll settle well.

[Oh, a kiss so suddenly, that's a delight— Palamedes blinks a few times and makes only the slightest noise of protest when Viktor moves away so soon to take care of the leftovers, like they're normal people, or something. He shakes his head and follows, putting the notebooks down on the kitchen table and then beginning the arduous process of layers-removal again. If he leaves them tossed on a kitchen chair much more haphazardly than he would in the lab, well, that's how it is.]

Would you believe me if I told you every House has a special brand skull? Although not the dedication to the paints. Lucky; I'd probably be allergic.

[After the cleaning products episode, and the fact that he was raised in a sealed bubble... In any case: so very lucky that no one else makes everyone paint their faces. Palamedes makes the monumental effort to also shrug off his overpiece-with-many-pens-in-the-pockets, because he wants to be close to Viktor and also not errantly stab him in the ribs with a pen?— and then joins him at his side, considering... Ninth folks.]

I wonder. [some real fucked up shit going down across the yard from Ortus' shed,] I have no idea how to talk to him, but I hope so, too.

[And in the meantime, ahem? He reaches for Viktor's waist, nudging him to turn and be kissed soundly and a bit pointedly, like slipping 'dating' into conversation. Yes, he's still all in, here goes.]

[one thing viktor genuinely likes about the bunker is it's not a huge, sprawling space. it means he can put his crutch against the wall and still maneuver easily enough with a hand against one of the walls, the counters, the table, etc. he rest a hand against one of the counters and watches the layer removal process, fond look turning to a quirked brow with that new fun necromancer fact.]

I... must know what a 'special brand skull' even is, please. Is it a mascot? An emblem? Who decides this?

[pal's world continues to fascinate him on so many levels. every time he peels back one layer he learns about things like brand skulls and it starts all over again.

when pal gets closer viktor's fingers graze against his sleeve, the giddy warmth of having the right to touch now hitting him again. he pushes it aside to give an answer first though.] I found simply being honest worked well enough. I may be biased but I believe you'd do well simply acting as you always do.

[to be fair the guy does seem like he could use a little humor in his life, especially given the vague tragedy it sounds like he's coming off of. these are thoughts that very much scatter as he's pulled closer, that idle grazing of pal's sleeve now firmly on his arm as he chuckles quietly into the kiss.

it's easy to fall back into the rhythm of this but it's difficult not to give away how much he craves the closeness of it, the simplicity of skin against skin and sharing warmth. even when he forces himself to break the kiss it's to press another against the corner of pal's lips, lower to his jaw, asking quietly between them,] How does dating and courtship go in the Sixth?

[not that it entirely matters, he's pretty committed to learning their own pace, but he supposes that requires a little bit of base knowledge anyway. not that he's going to make it easy to answer, going in for a little more adventurous of a kiss to punctuate the question.]

[Hmm, yes, Palamedes lives for the look on Viktor's face whenever he hears a new Necromancer Fact. He shrugs one shoulder and waves a hand, like, oh! It's just the skull! No big deal.]

A relic from time immemorial, I imagine. The Sixth's has a scroll in its mouth. [this is why he calls it Brand Skull, see.] I don't know when the skulls' designs popped into existence, but I like to think some ancient House authority was sick of getting the others confused all the time.

[It's funnier that way, and it's a humanizing thought about the ancient people of the Empire, whom he has always known as only footnotes. That there are people around in Trench who likely remember those days is, hm, horrible, and he chooses to ignore that fact in favor of his pet theory.

With Viktor close enough to curl his arm around, Palamedes does with a hum, leaning in to appreciate Viktor's incredible bias. Ortus the Ninth is, no offense to him, quickly put aside, which right now is likely for the best.

His other hand alights on the back of Viktor's neck again, same as outside, fingers curling into the ends of his hair as Viktor, ah, connects the dots with his mouth, it seems. Each press of his lips is another five seconds Palamedes isn't thinking about Sixth Facts at all, actually, much preferring to zero in on the warmth and the openness of it.

So he is still only half-thinking about Sixth courtship when, no, there go those thoughts again. He pulls Viktor closer still, practically flush together, letting his eyes close and deepening the kiss. He's no expert kisser, but it's easy with Viktor to lean into instinct and do what feels right - what makes his heart pound again, excitedly.

But one must also breathe, and he hardly pulls back at all, mumbling his eventual answer against Viktor's lips,] It goes however it wants to go, fundamentally.

[super hot makeout words: fundamentally]

Besides bloodlines and outdated Imperial edicts, no one minds anyone else's business. [A softer kiss next, to undercut "Imperial edicts," as he cannot be bothered by wild Empire things right this second,] Why? You've already got me.

[just a skull. viktor bites his lip against mentioning it sounds like a weird skull mascot contest, which truly is grimly delightful. he's sure it's all far darker and entrenched in history but sometimes it's nice to just chuckle over every house wanting a cool skull.]

Ah, well that sounds like a very dignified brand skull, congratulations. Understated, really.

[honestly he'd love to know what the other skulls looked like and would have happily kept on that line of questioning if he wasn't a tad preoccupied with other, more pressing matters. like making it difficult for pal to give a straight, easy answer, a little quirk to his lips because he's very aware of what he was doing. to be fair you can't have a chalkboard heist without being a little bit of a shit, so surely that much isn't a surprise.]

I have this unfortunate drive to learn about you whenever I can. [he answers, breath a little hitched between all this and his other moving to the side of pal's neck, thin fingers grazing over his jaw.] And I suppose tradition can be important. I don't... wish for you to miss out on anything simply because I am ignorant to it.

[that gets a press of their foreheads together for a moment, eyes closed just to enjoy the brief quiet before he's pulling back again. instead of kiss his hand finds it's way up to pal's jaw, running a thumb over his bottom lip in fascination, still mapping new and lovely ground.]

[Oh, he's got sass about the skulls, of course he does. Maybe cool skulls are very important, actually, and no it doesn't matter in the slightest, but the Sixth one is probably the best. Regardless. Despite all odds.]

It's only unfortunate when you ask about the skulls, [he says, with a little grin. Well - there are other Imperial Facts that have likely been odd enough to call "unfortunate," too, but still. Perhaps he'll doodle some off-model skulls later, if Viktor asks him very nicely.

And it's still not easy to answer him, but Palamedes stays quiet a moment longer just to look at him up close, savoring the brush of a new, different kind of touch over his lip. It's still remarkable how such a small thing can so completely command the whole of his attention, but ah, is it small? It's Viktor and the look in his eyes and the warmth and curious intimacy - it's plenty.

After a moment Palamedes lets go the back of his neck to curl fingers around Viktor's wrist. First,]

There's really nothing. Only our military has to worry about proper courtship. [Don't think too hard about that, particularly not when Palamedes lifts Viktor's hand to press a kiss against the center of his palm, then another, lower.]

Are there undercity traditions? [And another kiss, to the inside of his wrist, before he's tragically obstructed by sleeve and glances up to meet his gaze again.] I could make you more sandwiches.

My apologies but I am going to ask more about the skulls. I must know what skull every house decided on and if you suspect there was a very tense meeting about it between the houses. For that matter did your Oversight Body have to meticulous vote on an overall skull design while arguing the entire time?

[he's sorry, he really is, to be fair the undercity is full of ammo to poke fun at and pal is welcome to. he just really needs to enjoy this while it lasts, and preferably in front of one of the necromancers who will not be offended by it.

pal does an excellent job silencing him though, the first kiss to his palm getting a faint color to bloom again on his cheeks- always the sweet moments that undo him, damn it all, and pal excels at those. he's never stood a chance and that fact is becoming painfully obvious.]

Military? [he manages distractedly, already losing that train of thought to focus on pal's lips at his wrist, pressing forward to catch the tail end of pal's quip about sandwiches like a retaliation.

his lips quirk against pal's as he pulls back, offers,] Embarrassingly that jam sandwich is when I realized my feelings were not strictly platonic by any means. But no, undercity dating is eh... well, we'd be taking it slow by that standard. Very 'take what you can get while you can get it' attitude. Unless you want to start a bar fight to impress me, which I recommend against.

I don't know; I wasn't there. I hope so, or else arguing is a newer addition to Oversight Body behavior, and that I would take personally. [And also, hush; Viktor gets one skull question answered before Palamedes hums and squeezes him around the waist - fortunate that they're both twigs or this would be beyond his feeble necromancer arms. Hmm,] Ask me again about the skulls later.

[And the military, and oh, a kiss for sandwiches?—Ah. Now there's the ammunition he's earned, Viktor vs. the inherent romance of a jam sandwich, and he grins like he's never heard anything more interesting in his life. He'd hate to interrupt, so his next delighted-by-sandwich-news kiss is to Viktor's cheek with a smug little chuckle.]

I want to impress you, but if I started a bar fight someone would snap me in half— purely by accident, even, I imagine. Realistically speaking. I'll think of something else.

[A bigger sandwich with more jam in it— no. Well, he won't throw out the idea entirely. He releases Viktor's wrist to cup his cheek, leaning in to kiss him without any errant tease and with nothing but relentless tenderness; a lengthy kiss, all told. He's a little in his head, thinking about "while you can get it" and from earlier, "the fleeting nature of the Trench," so-]

I am going to stick around, you know. You'll be the most impressed by my continuity.

Fine, I am making a mental note as we speak. [absolutely is, he will learn what each skull looks like at least. he's not sure if it's better or worse than the house crests of upper echelons of piltover- okay, it is better purely because he finds it amusing and properly thematic other than obnoxious. then again his good mood might be pal-adjacent, a direct correlation to proximity even.

part of him just wants to rest his head on pal's shoulder and stay like this for a quiet moment. the rest is happy to drift in the present as they are, and it wins out.

something else he's allowed to do he realize, reach up to brush at pal's hair, a curious hum at the texture.] I think we'll make do, in a shocking betrayal of my origins I do not find senseless violence attractive. Innovative ideas and saving me with magic wards when we first met? I am impressed. Consider that box checked.

[and he's happy to just melt into the kiss, letting go of any other intentions other than the simple moment of it. his hands rest on pal's shoulders and yes, that statement hits him when it's made, less with the promise and more with the understanding, a reassurance he would never think to ask for but pal still realizes would be welcome.

that's the oddest mix of sweet and clever that he's come to realize is very pal in a nutshell. a boy with such big ideas he set on a course and made it happen, because he saw he could help, viktor thinks. it's fascinating but more so it's the kind of warmth viktor can't help but covet, want to drag and keep close and bear his teeth at any threat to it.

he believes pal will stick around, if he has the choice. he also knows good things get snatched up and away quickly, one way or another, so his answering kiss reflects something like gratitude mixed with a fervent note, that grip on his shoulders a little tighter, keeping him close. tasting the words in his mouth before forcing himself to pull away.

he just regards him for a moment, a small smile.] You did when I rudely ignored your messages. So will I, you know. I'd be a fool not to.

[Oh, hmm, that's a point about the magic wards. Palamedes makes a face, like, ah- well that was a different context, anyway.]

I can impress you more than once.

[In fact, maybe that's the goal! Not everything can be magic wards and hypothetical bar fights, after all, and he exists firmly in the space of 'Viktor deserves happiness.' A sandwich, for example, is impressive...

No matter; he'll muddle through it eventually. Viktor all but clings to him in the next kiss, and he thinks, ah - so there is something there, in the implications that nice things are somehow transitory. Another idea he wishes he could put in a box and smash with a hammer, or something, just to be sure he's made the depths of his devotion clear. That might be dramatic; so be it, he supposes, because he knows that kind of fear isn't one he can excise entirely, anyway.

He can tilt closer to Viktor, pressing their heads together once more, letting the same assurance wash over him. That Viktor will stick around too is something he also believes, and given what they've done for each other even before the past, hm, hour or so makes him realize he's believed it all along. Even when Viktor ignored his messages, which makes him roll his eyes as affectionately as he can. He certainly didn't approve of hiding the tether to protect him from it, but it's hard to ignore the intentions there.]

I'm a busybody, [he says, and debates adding your busybody, but that's almost too much cheese,] And I trust you— even when you're running away to the docks.

[Fool behavior. Please do not repeat.]

Belatedly, let's sit. Somehow, you've distracted me into standing around at the kitchen counter for this long.

Of that I have no doubt. [he means to end it off with something cheeky, maybe about the new notebooks to the collection being impressive or something along those lines. instead it's just a simple statement of fact he can't help.

viktor exhales in something like amusement, untangling enough to take pal's hand and lead them to the couch instead of the kitchen.] As it turns out kissing you is an excellent, mutual distraction. We share the blame there.

[he leans a little on pal in lieu of a crutch or a wall, just enough that the trip there is an easier one and he can plop down on the old couch. rio has since gotten herself her own bed, probably not unlike a beanbag she's happy to curl up in and save the couch for utter destruction. it's likely one of the only real changes to the place aside from whatever notes he'll leave around at random- sometimes to say he's going out, often to share an idea that suddenly came to him about their mutual research when he wasn't around, some fact he learned of the place he thinks pal would be intrigued by.

he tugs at pal's hand to come sit with him, not yet giving up his grip on pal's hand.] When did you realize? Not from a sandwich, I imagine.

That's fair. I'd hate to be boring about it— can you imagine? The total mortification.

[He shakes his head, mostly in the joke; like, it would definitely be embarrassing to abruptly realize he's actually very boring and bad at kissing, but hah - this is good, actually. But off to the couch, sitting close enough to bump him affectionately; again, for sandwiches.]

You never know; we could both have a thing for jam. [haha,] No; not from a sandwich. That night was when everything fell into place, I'd say— not that I endorse scaring the shit out of me for every important emotional realization, please.

[But it did work, coincidentally; the fear of almost losing him and the relief of not, indeed— Palamedes looks down at their joined hands and then sits back, taking in the moment and the little bunker, all the evidence of the connection they made even earlier than this. Hmm.]

You wanted to show me the world, [he says, lifting their hands to kiss the back of Viktor's.] I'm a sucker for a big declaration.

Somehow I feel you are a quick learner regardless. [flirting again by the mild tone of it, as he intertwines their fingers and thinks of that dramatic night they sat here.

he's not particularly surprised to hear that was the moment, not when he emotions ran so high and their connection is what chased the creature away for good. he runs a thumb over pal's knuckles like an apology.] No, I won't- [a pause] I'll try not to. Work in progress, as we said. Being eh... vulnerable is difficult, but you do have an incredible ability to make me want to try regardless.

[he glances up, lips quirking at the kiss to his hand, a little surprised that meant as much as it did to pal. it's something he makes a note of, a list of things he really does want to give him while they have the time. declarations, moments like that.] I still want to. Fireworks, comfort food- we'll get there, eventually. Bit by bit.

That's one of my top five attributes, actually. [Another itemized list incoming- no, no. Some other time. He's quiet for a thoughtful beat, then,] You don't need to tell me everything; I wouldn't ask you to do that. But when you need me, I'll drop everything. Don't let this place convince you otherwise.

[Like the tether nearly did, and like he's sure other Trench horrors could do with ease. He's expected nothing in this place to be easy and he hasn't been proven wrong yet. If repeating how much he'd do for Viktor helps in those terribly uncertain times, well - he did say his continuity is impressive.

That said,] For what it's worth, we didn't actually manage to finish comfort food today. 'Bit by bit' might be overzealous.

[Hmm, but he leans over to press a kiss to Viktor's temple anyway, unable to resist chuckling by the end of it.]

Well, I love a good challenge. I asked a friend about finding some fireworks, by the way; he seemed to enjoy the idea.

That I can believe. In fact I am more concerned you put your own needs to the side in order to be stalwart for those around you. [viktor says a little too simply for what is kind of a personal thing to bring up about someone- it's just an observation, potentially a fact potentially an unneeded concern, so he sees little reason in dressing it up as anything else.] But... thank you, for your patience. I hope you're aware the same is true for you, should you need it.

[comfort food is an easier discussion by far, one that gets a soft snort.] You tried it, that counts. You do not have much of an appetite though, I notice. Is it the food here?

[habit? being used to whatever weird foods the sixth had and still adjusting? part of viktor can't help a pang of worry it's a sign of illness, though crushes that easily underfoot until there's actual evidence to back it up.

the temple kiss gets a hand at pal's jaw again, the calculating press of fingers like he's learning the shape of it with a small smile.] Ah, the party is on then. I could probably make some if needed, I don't know the recipe off hand but it can't be that difficult. [he made a bomb on a pirate ship once so like. fireworks are just that only for fun right.]

I don't do that. [he does that.] I— hmm. Thank you; I know.

[Well, now he has to think about whether or not he does that— and if it ultimately matters if he does, if he's doing just fine in the end. But that one he can recognize as a thought that could easily spiral into remarkably poor self-care, so - alright. He's pretty sure he doesn't do that, but he'll evaluate.

Comfort food, then. Hmm!] I've never had much of an appetite; Camilla usually has to bother me to clear a plate. Who knows, maybe it's the food back on the Sixth; you haven't pitted me against these allegedly very spicy foods of yours, yet...

[He'll steam out of his ears for real, probably, but maybe the secret to getting an appetite is being traumatized by spicy food. Who can say. He makes a face, thinking of his rowdy friends and how many of them might do something utterly stupid with fireworks, hmm-]

Can you make small ones? Just in case; I can't carry the guilt of half a dozen people singing off their eyebrows at this party, and that's being generous.

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