april catch - all

[mehanizovati]

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!]

Comments

[mehanizovati]

[god, he cannot just do this. this is mortifying, how he finally blinks and tears spill in earnest and this is exactly the sort of thing that gets people like him killed. moments of weakness, opportunities to dig the knife in, hints you can be exploited for a soft heart.

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.]

[megatheorem]

[Well, that's semantics, first of all - and Palamedes is sure it isn't true. In this instance, watching Viktor cry like this and call it excess, he thinks, no: they are exactly the same. Neither of them have any idea how to value themselves anymore, do they? The things he would do to himself to ensure the lives of the people he cares about— well, they'd make Viktor cry even longer, most likely.

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.

[mehanizovati]

[viktor can't argue with him, as much as he wants to. part of it is seeing the shape of their shared spiraling for what it is, another is simply no longer having the strength to do so. he's falling apart but the world isn't ending, just tilting a little.

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?]

[megatheorem]

[Ah, and there he is, leaning into Palamedes with all the things neither of them have managed to say. Palamedes' grip in his hair is probably a fraction too tight but it's only to keep him steady, and he half expects kissing him like this to feel like drowning but it doesn't, it's—

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.]

[mehanizovati]

[viktor lets out a shuddering breath he didn't realize he was holding- pal's eyes, even in the dim light it's easy to see they're not the same as the dream. it's an odd mirror to feel pal's hand on his cheek, and at least for the moment he doesn't feel any embarrassment for the unfortunate state of him.

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.

[megatheorem]

Mm. That's the one. [A stilted little agreement, as he's not entirely awake enough to unpack being a Lyctor in a dream that felt as real as that one did. He's not particularly interested in unpacking it while Viktor is still visibly crying, either, lying back down from his elbow-lean to move in close, to kiss him on the cheek like he's definitely not weeping.]

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.]

[mehanizovati]

[with rio eased it's safe to ease again, still rubbing at his eyes in annoyance as he sighs.] So, some Trench effect then. A glimpse into what could have been? How invasively enlightening on matters we both could have lived without learning.

[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.

[megatheorem]

Right; I think I could have done without the enlightenment, [he mutters, already feeling tired again just thinking about this dream. The knowledge that his feelings for Viktor cross the lines of possibility into other versions of themselves is— well, he likes that on principle. Mostly, it was the other things.

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.]

[mehanizovati]

[viktor's considering the same, a little floored with the realization. it's frightening in its scope, though he's come a long way already in being terrified of intimacy and vulnerability. in fact he can even turn his face to kiss pal's palm, pressing his feelings there as much as such a simple action can carry.

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.]

[megatheorem]

[Palamedes is content to let him just breathe, tracing little loops on the back of his neck in thoughtful silence. Viktor is alright, he reminds himself again, Viktor is here in his arms and in their bed the same way he always is, not about to shake himself apart. Even the pink blob that is Rio past the edge of the bed is a quiet relief; they're fine.

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.

[mehanizovati]

[the face he makes has viktor's lips quirking, leaning in to kiss him for it. he still feels stuffed and like his arm isn't quite right but pal is solid and if he needs a reminder they're fine he just needs to look into his face.]

I never would. I would strongly suggest we discuss it eventually for a variety of reasons, but you are welcome to say if you would rather we stop. [an easy answer. the thing he's learned about pal is he's honest, if he says he'll talk about it eventually he doesn't think it would be a deflection tactic.

so he settles in, aware the first question likely is a hard one.] What is a lyctor? I know you were functionally immortal, and I know- whatever it is cost Camilla's life.

[megatheorem]

[Better to do this tucked away in bed, in the semidarkness the moon orb provides, than to do it in the daytime. Not that Palamedes trusts different in the dark, or that the bunker would be suddenly more populous by lunchtime, but wrapped up close, it's - simpler. Being herded into bed after his bathroom breakdown has really stuck.

Fortunately, the first question is actually textbook, not that there is a textbook, because someone might have objected before now.]

A Lyctor is an immortal necromancer unfettered by the regular limitations. Necromancy is finite, [he says this part like he really is reciting a textbook for the nth time, since he Always Says This,] but not for them. They consume their cavalier's soul to build a necromantic furnace with it that never runs out.

[It is as grim as it sounds, and he's glad Camilla is someplace else, so not even an unfortunate accident can beset them.]

It's what we were supposed to become on the First. It's why we went, although you can be certain we weren't told the details in advance.

[mehanizovati]

[as much as viktor was expecting that he can't help but grimace. the idea of using someone as an infinite furnace is horrific on levels he doesn't want to begin comprehending.

that it was camilla? he doesn't know her but pal's care for her was clear from the moment they first spoke of her. yeah, unsettlingly easy to see why pal might think 'let's use a magic drug to sever my soul and try to save her from a fate that sounds worse than death.'

his fingertips idly run over pal's jaw, offering a nod.] This... 'god,' the one you wanted to kill? He sent you there without informing you the cost? But in your real world you weren't drawn into it, this... lyctorhood.

[megatheorem]

[He laughs suddenly at how casually Viktor says 'the one you wanted to kill,' a short and startled kind of noise. Phrases that can never be repeated outside of the sanctity of this bunker, please... After a moment he composes himself, then,]

No; things didn't go so terribly on the First that I had to resort to that. [Just some other insane and extreme measures, never mind those now.] Do you know what he told me about what happened there? He was sorry he wasn't paying attention.

[Oh, and there's the same strand of disdain, although lacking the explicit desire for violence. It vaguely occurs to him that he's been generously using 'Emperor' out of pettiness instead of 'god,' but uh, surprise: God is in town.

He's not done, either:] Then he tried to simper at me about 'the lot of a Lyctor'. Can you even fathom the nerve? Like his half-baked apologies are interesting.

[mehanizovati]

[to be fair he doesn't yet realize the emperor and 'god' are the same person, so that's fun. it's definitely less stressful imagining this is talk of a being far away and not literally in the same neighborhood.

he can't help a snort at that. not paying attention.] Ah, an absent god rather than a cruel one. That's certainly a way to spin it in a less damning light.

What exactly happened on the First? I suppose this explains why you've always seemed to shy away from speaking of it much. I thought it was just a wasteland.

[megatheorem]

It is. Mostly. It is now, at least. [A beat.] The water was pretty.

[That's the nicest thing he can say about the First, so congratulations to that horrible shit planet. He sighs and slumps closer to Viktor for a moment, eyes shut, willing himself not to shy away from the rest yet again.]

We were sent there— one adept pair per House— to replenish the Lord's stock of Lyctors. One of them snuck into our ranks and started killing us. [And there were a lot of sometimes cool but mostly horrifying theorems in there to pick at, but what happened is this part. With the murders.] When I figured her out, I killed her back. Mostly. I know she went down eventually, but I— I was in my room.

[That room. Viktor knows which room. The whole of the First should be dropped into the sun, in his opinion.]

[mehanizovati]

That is how you died. [it's said with a faint waver. pal is here of course, no longer trapped in a room alone at this River both he and ortus mentioned, but it still turns viktor's stomach to think of that before and after. a living pal and then a dead one.

or in this other world a living pal and then a lyctor. he leans in, presses his lips to pal's before resting their foreheads together, just a moment to feel the warmth of him before he pulls back enough to look at him again.]

Why was she killing you? Why bother? Why does this god need these lyctors anyway? [now it's his turn to be irritated at god. fuck that guy, am i right] Sorry, just- I'm sure it's power. It's always about power.

[another kiss.] I won't ask anymore tonight. I think I'm starting to see what happened here though. It was some sort of vision of a branching path at a crucial moment. Lovely.

[megatheorem]

[He makes a small noise of agreement, wrapping his arm more tightly around Viktor for much the same reason. Dying compared to spending all that time in that room was, mm, not nearly as grievous. And then there was the second time, here, good god, can he please rest. He all but melts into Viktor, and he cannot deny that it feels... good, to listen to him get angry at God.

Not that he will ever be wholly comfortable if Viktor and God are ever in the same room, like, ever in his life, but it's the little things. He laughs again, more quietly.]

It's always about power, and about him. [None of them at Canaan House mattered, specifically! The lady Lyctor told him that herself! Joy of joys.]

Was it? I can see it; it makes sense. [Unfortunately so. But on that topic, if Viktor is done asking questions and has agreed that he's very much okay, after the dream episode- ahem-] I like your current hands just the way they are, but your hand did look cool. In there.

[mehanizovati]

I'll ask you more about him one day. [not exactly a warning but more an inevitability- curiosity is one thing, a man or being or whatever this god is that indirectly caused pal's death? that seems to lurk on the edges of so many of these stories?

he'll ask. he thinks pal might need space to tell it, or at least unleash whatever blasphemy he seems to keep close to his chest even here. but he won't ask today, though maybe like this again, in the quiet secrecy of their bed.

pal's ability to ask a question without asking one amuses him, a little snort that falls to a cough, one he covers his sleeve against and thankfully doesn't last very long.] You'll see more like it, without the blood I think. I'm tentatively making a prosthetic arm for someone here.

[but that's some clear dodging, so he sighs.] I was clearly unhinged, as you saw. I apparently cut my own arm off because I needed a steadier hand for the self surgery I was going to attempt with my lungs. I can't say it wasn't a sound enough reason, in a morbid way.

[megatheorem]

Hmm. You should. [It will be helpful and probably cathartic, he'll give Viktor the most crucial details. And also all of his pettiness, as a bonus.

His eyebrows go up - that's fun, a cool robot arm for somebody - and then he frowns, because what the fuck. Hold on, where is that hand— he shifts to hold it, very subtly. It was cool-looking, though. Unhinged, but looked alright. Hmm.]

Viktor, as a necromancer I feel obligated to tell you, that isn't a sound reason. [Like, for one surgery? Viktor.] If you ever have an urge to start doing that, please come and tell me.

[But ha, not like Viktor would actually do that, here in the real world, so he can mostly say this like a joke before lifting his perfectly normal hand to kiss the back of it. They're fine.]

And that drug— there isn't any of that here, is there? From those portals, maybe; if somebody found it...

[bad. you know. bad.]

[mehanizovati]

You needn't worry, I have no urge. It is only sound in that without any aid to turn to he was taking precautions. [which yeah, maybe not sound but viktor sees a logic to it.

his fingers curl on that cool, not metal hand as pal kisses it and yeah, viktor thinks losing that sensation would be a shame. ah though, mentioning the drug and it being here-]

There ah, there is a vial. One, that I have from my arrival, with no real intention to use here, mind you. [facts are easy though, have them.] It is called shimmer. It is a chem that became popular in the undercity after my time there, and I'm afraid I actually know very little about it. Unlike this other Viktor, clearly, which-

[hm. doesn't love a lot of that. his hand finds pal's, curling their fingers together.] Well, it is unpleasant knowing there's a world where I would have been involved in it all. Disappointing, really.

[megatheorem]

[That's still not sound, sir, but he's going to leave it alone. He'll give one more hand kiss instead, like alright - that wraps up that. Don't do that, he's glad nobody is doing that.

Anyway, there's drugs here? Really?]

That's— huh. [Not great. He squeezes Viktor's hand lightly, thinking about the Other Viktor. He does agree; it's unpleasant to think about, but honestly, Lyctor Palamedes should have been a little more helpful in telling him no, damn... judging his other self about it, honestly.] Fair point. Assuming we're supposed to learn some kind of lesson from those two, which I'm choosing to believe because the alternative is pointless exercises in being hurt, then— I'd keep the good parts. Not the drugs.

[The good parts, or: a slightly different flavor of being a supportive partner. Minus the crying. Plus the hands on? Minus the drugs. He could keep going.]

What are you going to do with the vial?

[mehanizovati]

So the supportive relationship and being 'hands on.' [viktor answers with a quirk of the lips, banishing any remnants of guilt over hypothetical things he could have done. a waste of everyone's time.

that question though-] I don't know. I admit I did fully plan on using it in my world. I specifically was given it to do an experiment that could have- that might have saved my life.

Here it's pointless. Still, I won't say I wouldn't use it if I could found another way it could be helpful in the same experiment. [the life saving. he's trying to be honest, at least.]

[megatheorem]

[Palamedes chuckles but still nods, like oh yes, those two, how did he guess? Somewhere deep down he'd also keep the, ah, moral support for killing God? Just on principle, of course, since he would not try to do something so stupid and pointless unless he had a really good plan for it, here in the real world. Maybe that falls under "supportive relationship," just in a different shade.]

What can I say? We're just that good. [at relationships!! The tragedy timeline (tm) has proven it tenfold.

Now, if they could also be that good at not keeping dangerous strategies on the table...]

I suppose I won't try and convince you to throw it away, then. [Or dump it out, but who knows what that stuff would do to whatever it got spilled on in this town. Yuck. His expression softens a fraction from Concerned to simply Fretting, with a short sigh.] Can we call it a last resort? And to that point, has the moon lamp been helping? When it's not covered in moths.

[mehanizovati]

[just wait until pal finds out viktor not only still supports that but thinks wanting to fight god is attractive. boyfriend points all around.

though in the quiet of the evening viktor can't help pulling pal's hand close to kiss his knuckles, struck again with how even there pal had been so... caring. good to him.] I... hope you are aware how lucky I feel to have met you.

[with Feelings spewed between them he'll focus on the important thing, drugs. he sighs but nods.] Last resort, I can work with that. In truth there's so little of it I don't think it would be particularly useful, an ah... 'one shot' situation. And I refuse to make more.

[mostly because it involves rio, and. yeah. not. not doing that.] I think it has. [a pause and he goes more honest with this than he usually does] I think I have a few months. I can show you my own notes keeping tabs on the progression, but it seems to suggest a timeline of that nature, barring a sharp decline.