Viktor (
mehanizovati) wrote in
deercountry2022-03-31 12:24 pm
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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!]
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
no subject
You're too enamored with your machines; flesh yields more than you'd expect. [He can put lungs in there, good gracious, don't make it sound so impossible. But speaking of flesh yielding, and the quip back about his soul-ripping plan that dies on his tongue, ah— It's not the first time they've done this particular dance, it's not even the first time today, but the touch of cool fingertips centers him on Viktor the way a rogue innuendo only sometimes does.
He leans in, just a smidge; just tipping his face obligingly. He's helping.]
You'd give up an entire afternoon? You have been thinking about this all night. [Ha ha,] And if it will get you to take a break— gladly.
[He's not going to renege on the taking a break point, it's important - but taking a break and harmless flirting aren't mutually exclusive items. The magnetic draw of Viktor's touch nearly sparks at the part of Palamedes that knows he should keep his distance, that Viktor doesn't deserve to be dragged into Lyctor business, that he should stop asking about the other terrible thing—
But it makes his restless mind an iota less so; too compelling to ignore. He lifts his dismissed hand again, this time to curl fingers around Viktor's metal wrist and settle there, poised between encouraging and pulling away.]
Hmm, but would I like to— I might.
no subject
viktor exhales, faintly amused despite himself.] You are stubborn. A dog with a bone, they say. [a quality he usually finds annoying in most but as always pal makes it seem more persistence than anything.
he waits a beat to see if pal will pull his hand away, drift away again rather than engage in what viktor should not be engaging in regardless. hm, well blowing off a little steam would probably do the man good, he decides, not at all a personal deflection. maybe he could convince him to take the shimmer then, he is genuinely curious how a lyctors body could handle it. how it mixes with a darkblood.]
Ah, such flattery. A solid 'might.' [[he presses his thumb to pal's bottom lip, cupping his jaw as much as pal's grip allowed. (later viktor, the real viktor, will find that image a little unnerving with how often he's done the same with his purely flesh and blood hand and far more gently.)] Would you prefer I hold you down instead? I could be convinced, if you will behave and take the shimmer dose like I asked.
no subject
[Well, here meaning "utter failure," perhaps, and not "large-scale bodily experiments." Those aren't grotesque, Palamedes supposes; he doesn't understand Viktor's metal hand and how it works, for example, but it doesn't viscerally horrify him as much as what Harrow tried to do to her own skull. It certainly doesn't horrify him as much as what he himself did to Camilla!
Hurrah, then, for lung surgery. This is a task he can actually accomplish, and bonus, Viktor will be better off for it. If Palamedes never has to hear him cough like all of his bones will rattle out of him at once again, it will be too soon.
In any case, a solid might. A firm maybe. He lets go of Viktor's arm to thumb at the collar of his shirt instead, eyebrow raised.]
Are we bartering? If I take your drugs and sit still while you take your notes, you'll do me the favor of doing another thing you already want to do? [such a huge and noble sacrifice, sir,] Very cunning of you.
no subject
[he has Plans with the capital P for that but... yes it would maybe be useful to have pal's expertise with flesh on his side for it. he almost immediately regrets asking, though he doesn't take it back. ah, the inherent intimacy and vulnerability of a guy just helping you make lungs then helping you shove them in your chest.
he's testing waters. besides, he can't help but trust pal won't stab him in the back, at least not as long as he needs his help. that's trust enough.
those comments make the corner of viktor's mouth quirk despite himself, run off quickly enough to say,] I never said I wouldn't be hands on in my examination of the effects. I consider it to be multitasking.
Your choice, of course. Otherwise I do have our work to complete.
no subject
[Here's to hoping Viktor will accept some new fleshy lungs and not do something weird with metal parts, if only because Palamedes cannot help with metal parts and getting new lungs seems like a thing that should always be a two-man job, Viktor.
Eventually, in any case. Here and now, he must dissect this new "hands on" information, hm - fascinating. The innate eroticism of multitasking strikes again.]
I drew the wards for you, [he says, faux-petulant in response to Viktor's attitude. You draw a man wards and agree to pull out his lungs and he makes quips about doing all the work, wow... no respect.]
But— alright. I do want you to be hands on. [Like, just getting to the point, this is a thing he's considered, with and without the 'oh it is an experiment, I am merely observing' context tacked on. And how bad can these drugs be! Ha.] I'll try it.
no subject
viktor's hand moves to pal's chin, this time the calculating look apparently set on his face, the shape of his jaw, his lips and eyes.] That need correcting. [he reminds idly. funnily enough his mind is on other things at the moment.
pal saying that has him getting up from his chair to move in, momentarily brushing aside thoughts of distraction or work. he does not kiss pal gently, this is clearly not about that, metal hand down to the side of pal's throat before he's pulling away with a hum. aside from the faint color to his cheeks he's pretty good at playing that off to move past for the moment to a different table.]
Excellent. Typically shimmer gives a feeling oh hm... euphoria, power, enhancing sensation, etc. There have been mutations in the past, though that is largely with Singed's particular strain. He was practically cultivating it.
[said with a hint of disdain before he's turning back, one glowing little vial in his hand he holds out in the space between them. part of him hopes pal will just... not. will look at it and say this isn't worth it and reconsider his own unhinged plans. he focuses on the part of him that is curious, and maybe the part that is wondering if his shitty little cot can handle them both. things like that.]
no subject
[He's ready to move on from talking about metal parts entirely, though, and focusing all his attention on what Viktor is doing now. That he already has a metal part has been grandfathered in as acceptable and not unpleasantly distracting, so, congratulations to the metal hand.
Palamedes can't help the flicker of amusement that crosses his face when he sees Viktor blush just a fraction, and it's that which becomes the damning thing. That and the way Viktor starts talking about mutations, like that isn't a mood killer, and Palamedes has to remember ah - right. This is the thing Viktor doesn't want him to do. Or, well, ingesting any of that drug is a precursor to the thing Viktor doesn't want him to do, and much as he's set on doing that thing, the tangle of emotions about Viktor's involvement hasn't untangled itself even a little.
For a moment he was so caught up in being hands on that he forgot they live in a world where Viktor would rather he not try to rip his soul in half. Ah.
He reaches out, touching the vial but not taking it. Shame that Viktor doesn't have a second, less potentially useful drug, huh.]
Do the effects correspond to the quantity imbibed? [like maybe if he takes a small sip he'll just feel real cool for a while and Viktor won't have to give him any looks about his unhinged soul ideas, that would be handy. Maybe they can skip the unhinged plans entirely just for an afternoon, and he won't have to worry about Viktor trying to lobotomize himself so he never blushes again.
Boy, is it hard to be both concerned about a guy's welfare and also resiliently attracted to 'hands on multitasking'. Damn it.]
Are you sure you want me to do this?
no subject
the facts get ticked off like a list.] Ingesting orally would be the best way, given the complicated nature of your blood. I've done preliminary tests with how it reacts with paleblood directly- oddly, if you're curious - but not darkblood. Given its tendencies towards warping surroundings I would rather not test that directly in the lab.
[he trails off, mostly because pal asks that when they're supposed to be having something between experiment prep and prep of a more multitasking, hands on nature.
how can he answer that without damning himself?] Does it matter what I want? This is necessary for your goals.
no subject
Well, until the end there. There, Viktor's sidestepping, his removal of his wants from the whole thing, there's the center of it. And if Palamedes were any of his Lyctor colleagues, he'd have the right idea: why should anyone else's wants or needs matter when it comes to his goals? He's already made Camilla's restoration nonnegotiable, what does it matter if he walks over a few people to get there?
But it does matter. Palamedes hasn't been a Lyctor long enough to see other lives as meaninglessly short, hopes to not be a Lyctor that long besides, and— well.]
I can care about two things, [he says, almost like it's too obvious and he shouldn't have to say it. Even if he were so callous, upsetting his scientist enough could risk his resource supply, hm? So, obviously, caring about Viktor is allowed. Sorry. Next time, he'll make certain to be horny on main without drugs involved.]
Think of it as eliminating all the unknowns. It does matter.
no subject
or he could just answer and force himself to admit the very obvious fact he doesn't want to do this because it's step one in potentially losing pal forever. not the moral issues, not the harm, not the absolutely questionable ethics and application of having a soul tearing drug existing anywhere, even if the formula is buried in his brain. the selfish, greedy bits of him that loathe to lose such a clever mind. the worn parts that find comfort in their banter.
he grabs pal's wrist, trying the vial properly into his palm, his grip.] You are insufferable. Fine, this particular test? It does not bother me. I would prefer doing more more studies on how darkblood and shimmer interact but I refined this strain and I am confident in what it is capable of, even in your body.
[a pause, then,] You know what bothers me. I do not wish to be involved in what will likely destroy you, one way or another. I do not... wish to see you butchered, no matter how cleanly we try to do it.
[he finally meets pal's eyes again, stubborn in this self destructive spiral they seem to be circling.] I may even back out before it's all done. All the more reason for you to make sure my own project goes through. It will kill this damned sentimentality I have for you and you will get what you want without fear I'll falter.
no subject
But he still would have been drawn to him besides, and would it have been more cruel to one day simply vanish, having rent himself in two and ceased to be because the work cannot be undone when it begins with such fucking amateurish steps? Would that be worse than the way Viktor looks at him right now, reminds him that he's already bothered by Palamedes' goals, and it simply hasn't escalated to genuine hurt?
His hand closes around the vial and he uses it like a sort of anchor, stepping closer. He lifts his other hand and then just hovers with it, not fully reaching for Viktor, because that is kind of the issue, isn't it.]
I'm not going to do that to you, [support his lobotomy? dismiss him as unnecessary if he backs out? either,] and it's stupid of you to think that.
[Camilla is still nonnegotiable, but Palamedes doesn't think it's down to one or the other - but he also doubts "but I really would like to do some soul cutting" would go over well right this second. About as well as Viktor implying that affection for him is a thing to be excised via lobotomy so as not to inconvenience him is going over, as it happens.
Now, then, does he touch Viktor, grip tight on the spot where neck meets shoulder, betraying the distress he feels from the fucking lobotomy that he manages to keep out of his voice.]
When you told me about this drug, I wasn't thinking— I haven't been fair to you. I'm sorry.
[He crowds a little closer again, close enough to kiss him, but he holds back on that for now. Quietly,] It was an asshole move of me to ask you to do something like that. So don't; I'll find a better way.
no subject
viktor's brow furrows, a beat of waiting for the other shoe to drop because this? it didn't happen. people weren't like this about their goals. they didn't turn away from the easier, surer path, or refuse a perfectly viable if not horrendous avenue. if they did it was not for him, no one has ever done that. it's pathetic to say even in his head but it's true, no one has ever cared enough to to do that. he was never a variable that mattered in the grand scheme of any life he was in.
so the problem with emotions, he's found, is they strike fast. some are easy to cut off before they swell but some are insidious, they creep into cracks you don't notice and grow like weeds. when they do it's nearly impossible to move fast enough to grab them by the handful and rip them out before they spread or do damage. like making him blink rapidly in a truly damning way, like make his voice creak and give him away further.]
You- don't be daft. We've always... we have an understanding. That's how this works.
[his grip on pal's wrist remains, tight as he swallows.] And what if there is no better ways? Will you still be so eager to throw this chance away for- [for this, for his comfort, for what viktor wants for him. that eases him somewhat even if it stings because there is no way in hell. progress marches relentlessly on, as it always has.]
no subject
He continues,] You don't think it's going to work and you still want to lecture me about my options.
[The shut up is implied there, of course. Palamedes slides his hand up into Viktor's hair, holding them together like this, maybe ready to make Viktor look at him if he suddenly needs to, or anything, ahem.
He reviews the facts: Camilla is nonnegotiable. He will never give up on reversing the work to get her back. He cares about Viktor, somehow, maddeningly, impossibly after plunging himself into a world where he never imagined he'd care about anything but rage and regret ever again.
Hmm. Well, it is a fact. Further: he's a miserable wretch at the best of times, and Viktor's banter and his company somehow makes that sort of okay. To beg Viktor not to shove pins into his brain or whatever he'd like to do is pointedly not the same as throwing away Camilla.]
Don't hurt yourself for my sake. You can call me daft a hundred more times, maybe I'll deserve it. But don't turn away from me and tell me it's for the sake of my goals.
[Which, again, Viktor doesn't even think will work, so how is this an impasse? Why keep trying to remove himself from the equation, while Palamedes loudly insists that's impossible? It's as frustrating as it is, hm, dismal. Perhaps if he simply holds Viktor long enough, he'll get through to him.
It was much easier to 'have an understanding' when he barely knew the man. So, oops, more or less.]
Camilla can't be reduced to a desired outcome, and I've never thought you were just a useful tool. I'll get her back, but I won't hurt you to do it.
[It's not A vs B, please. It's C, both of the above.]
Are you— [boy, this is going to be a question, but considering the lobotomy plans he has to ask,] Does it frighten you that I care about you?
no subject
pal's hand is in his hair though, and ah right, that's always been a bit of a weakness. he assumed merely the heated tugging or grabbing but no, as it turns out just this is somehow more than any of that. he needs to swallow again against it, fighting tooth and nail now for composure against what feels like a continued attack. stubborn, relentless bastard, of course a man who speaks so intently about killing god would be.
he can still vividly remember the first time pal told him as much, the odd elation that bubbled in viktor's chest he couldn't stomp down quickly enough. thinking damnable things like if anyone could pull it off it would be this clever man.
still, he can handle it all well enough with just passing cracks- don't turn away from me gets an added tightness to his jaw, i won't hurt you to do it has him going stock still. it's manageable until pal asks him that, and he can't just... lie. he hasn't with pal, he's never wanted to. he's never needed to. pal's never forced his hand in that regard one way or another.
he's pretty sure pal's never really lied to him either. it's something he pretends is a benefit of their partnership and not profound.]
Of course it does! [viktor finally hisses, and ah there it goes, it's all coming up an ugly mess that's making his eyes leak damningly at the corners, that kind where he's refusing to blink because otherwise the tears will start falling in earnest and he can't-] You- how could it not? How does it not frighten you? Look at what caring has done, you're ready to rip yourself into pieces at the basest level!
no subject
He's not entirely sure that's the point; it's something else on top of that, some conviction Viktor has about People and Goals, and perhaps that isn't a problem Palamedes can solve. But he can curl his fingers into Viktor's hair in silent reminder that he's still here, he hasn't left for other ambitions or anything else.
The tears undo him. Viktor can be sulky, and furious, and indignant, but Palamedes has never seen him cry— has never known him to let himself shed a tear. Maybe that's the point Viktor is trying to make— it's not going to stick, though.]
And? [okay, not just And, hold on--] You're threatening to do the same thing if my work hurts you too much.
[Just saying. He tugs his other hand out of Viktor's grip and- ah, puts the vial down on the table, after a beat, right- and cups his cheek, brushing away a tear with his thumb. What kind of monster would go ahead with his unhinged plan now, after making Viktor cry over it? He'll keep insisting that plan is over as many times as it takes...]
Letting you get hurt scares me— of course it does. I care about you all the same; enough to risk it.
no subject
but it's started now and he doesn't know how to turn this off, not after a good decade or two of careful compartmentalizing that's now ripped at so many seams he doesn't know where to start. what's worse is he knows some of it is just for pal, because viktor cares too much and pal's entire existence now is such a pointlessly cruel series of events it's nauseating. that god damn palamedes can still care so much after everything instead of shutting it off like viktor thinks anyone sensible would.
he sucks in a breath, shaky and unable to let go of pal's wrist to hastily try to wipe at his damn face.] It-it is different. [he insists, forcing himself to meet pal's eyes. ones that maybe don't quite fit his face.] I am getting rid of- of excess. Pointless things. You are destroying yourself and I cannot simply accept that.
[and pal is cupping his cheek, his grip on pal's wrist tightening for a brief moment before it goes lax in defeat. he closes his eyes and swallows down what he's sure would be a pathetic sound, this is all so pathetic he could scream. and yet he's leaning into pal's palm like he's starving for the warmth of it, hands lowering to pal's elbows, grip tight on the fabric there.]
I am not worth the risk. [he manages finally in an exhale, pained but easier because it's the truth. pal fought and fights the powers that drag him down, he's steadfast for this girl most likely lost, he's steadfast for viktor and what has viktor done? helped singed shut rio's brain off, worked for the chembarons, scraped by until his own death illuminated how little he's done to prove his life was even worth living.]
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So.]
It's the same. It is.
[So alright, he can admit his sharp turn into self-destruction if that means Viktor can see it too, in himself. They both have to admit this thing, he thinks - if only to see it clearly.
And so his voice is soft, gentle even, while he wipes away another damnable tear and presses a kiss against Viktor's hair, lingering there a moment just - just to stay centered. To hold Viktor against him like he'll run off and destroy himself if Palamedes lets go, to stop his own tears from falling. If he lets go of Viktor, he thinks, he will lose him; if he lets go of Viktor his hands will shake too hard to reach for him again, and he will have tried to save one precious person and care for another and royally fucked up both his chances, and he cannot go through another immutable loss.
(He knows Camilla is gone, is the thing. Deep down, in a quiet place, he does. The shape of grieving her is his own face staring back at him. He won't lose anyone else to the same spectre, if he can help it.)
Now that he knows Viktor's self worth sits at a stunning zero, however-]
You are to me. You're so much more.
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he swallows, fails to bite back a sound he loathes, finally reaches up to cup pal's face himself and kiss him like the answer back to all of that, to the confession lining this entire conversation. kissing gently like he's never done before, shakily, gripped with the nearly overwhelming urge to run before he's lost to this-
and viktor wakes up.
it's with a slow blink, to the sound of rio's quiet trilling she only does when she's concerned. he's struck dumb with conflicting memories, of rio back in the vat but she looks to him from the side of the bed, pink and whole. his hand goes to her head, not metal but flesh. why is she upset?
another blink and he realizes there are tears still rolling down his face. oh. that would be why.
he can't remember the last time he cried. maybe a particularly painful day? not when he got his diagnosis, not seeing rio in the vat right before he ended up here. his attention goes to pal quickly though, voice thick but quiet as he asks,] Palamedes?
[he wants to believe that was just a normal dream, but it was so real. even his hand doesn't feel quite right still, like a phantom limb until he curls his fingers tightly. gods, pal's eyes. what the hell was a lyctor actually?]
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It's a jolt back to his senses, back to - to reality, as he blinks himself awake in turn and squints at the vague shapes of Viktor and Rio, dimly lit by the moon orb on the other side of the room. A dream, then, and he wonders why he's woken up so abruptly, shifts to lean up on one elbow on his side, to squint some more.
Were he wearing his glasses to sleep like a complete madman, it would take him less time to notice the tears still running down Viktor's face. Instead he has to squint, and the realization makes the whole room lurch for a second. Automatically his hand goes to Viktor's cheek to brush off the freshest tears there, and, ah-?]
You're awake? Did you dream, too?
[Let's start there, at the beginning: did that happen, insofar as they both were 'there'? He already feels like his heart's been wrung out and left on the floor, and now Viktor is (still) crying— that's not... great.]
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that'll kick in soon, but right now he's still reeling, one hand still stroking rio's head.] I... did. We were in the lab and had lived different lives. You were a lyctor.
[it's odd to use that word, when he barely understands what it means. finally shame catches up with him and he moves to scrub at his face, irritated his eyes are persistently leaking still.] Bah, apologies, I suppose it's... emotional transference. Something.
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Shh, don't apologize. [He didn't do anything, etc. Sometimes an earth-shaking shared vision just happens around here - although that's the first time Palamedes has participated, rather than just watch. Ah.
...And. Emotional transference? He smooths his thumb over Viktor's cheek once more before shifting to wrap that arm around his shoulders, hand lingering at the back of his neck. Emotional transference, Viktor??—]
In there, you— said some things about yourself.
[he's not asking, but he is asking.]
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[irritation is easy, less so when pal is being sweet, just as he apparently would be in much more severe circumstances. he lets himself have this, just rest an arm over pal's waist and even his own breathing.
that not question gets a helpless, amused exhale, more on the side of humorless really.] I do not think I am unworthy of your affection, if that is what you are concerned about. [that's true at least, but it feels a little like a lie to leave it at that, and after a long moment he haltingly offers,] I can sympathize with his feeling of failure in his life thus far. Our work in the Trench will counter that, I have no doubt.
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Why did he cut off his hand, for example... Well, baby steps. He kisses him again, purely for the feeling of it being- not so desperate, the way it was at the end of the dream. Mm.]
Alright. [Hm, all of those do make him feel better, actually. He doesn't need to press.] It's not every day I wake up to you crying. If you're sure you're okay, then— good.
[He does not ask, hey, about the lobotomy? because why would his Viktor, who has emotions all the time without a problem, do that thing. Ridiculous. Wouldn't ever happen.]
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a few more long breaths and he feels steady enough to risk opening his eyes again, this time without tears in their wake. red eyed and puffy, maybe, but unlike that viktor he's had more experience with the overwhelming feeling of being cared for.
he also hopes he's far more stable besides. emotional lobotomies? unfathomable. never going to happen.]
Well, now we're even. [a weak joke but there you are. he reaches over to cup pal's face, gratefully taking in his eyes again before he asks,] Do you wish to discuss it? I won't pretend I don't have questions. [he'd rather stuff everything he just saw about himself in a neat little box but- yes, maybe that urge isn't one he should gladly follow.]
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And he, himself, well— his immediate response is to not want to talk about it, but they've seen how that strategy plays out in the long term. He hums, and thinks about it more earnestly, if nothing else than to be fair to the other version of himself. He knows how he felt in the dream, and to think of it again now is faintly dizzying - but he is just Palamedes the Sixth, not the Lyctor half-delirious with grief.
He does still make a face, though. Enh.]
You're sweet not to demand it of me. Go ahead, the floor is yours.
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