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!]

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[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.

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.]

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.

[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.

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.

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.]

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.

Edited (dumb typo, also morning) 2022-05-08 12:17 (UTC)

[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?

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.]

[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.

[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.

You've mentioned it, [soft and with a little smile, because as always, the sentimentality is even more so when it's here like this.] but I like to hear it.

[So, anyway, drugs. Drugs and 'a few months,' a sentence that feels like being dropped into ice. Palamedes' eyebrows go up, and his grip tightens a fraction on Viktor's hand, but he knows better than to panic. No ticking clock appears above Viktor's head to haunt him, but rather, ah— he makes a quick mental reshuffling of his myriad projects. Blood ministering and broader healing concepts are going up to the top, inching just a smidge higher than bloodtech or whatever they're calling it now.

He nods in understanding and agreement; yes, notes. Those are excellent.]

I'd like to take a look. The blood ministers don't have anything like a magical cure-all, I've asked. I guess if they had that, the city wouldn't be a sponge for blood and corruption— Anyway. I'll dig deeper for some more tricks of the trade.

[And he will not be 'oh no do not worry about it'-ed out of this one, so please, shush in advance. Maybe someone will invent a new lungs spell in the next month, who knows. He's doing well at not catastrophizing this, for now.]

Something useful should turn up. All this blood magic? It's practically guaranteed.

And it bears repeating. [a pause.] I wonder if that version of you still nearly elbowed that version of me.

[he kind of hopes so. an excellent meetcute, as it turns out.]

I'll give it to you in the morning to look over. Or whenever we get up, I'm not sure I'll be falling back to sleep. [he does bite back saying something like 'don't worry about it, focus your energies elsewhere.' etc. he has enough sense to know if he were in pal's shoes he'd never listen and rightfully so.]

I hope so. Maybe I'll look into making lungs anyway. [with less hand chopping this time.] In a less eh... unhinged way in this reality. Really, the whole lobotomy business was so melodramatic.

Probably; maybe for a different reason, for variety.

[Trying to elbow a... flying miniature beast out of the air, maybe. Who can say. The elbows are a universal constant; the rest, a mystery.

Anyway, thanks for not making him get huffy about 'don't worry about it' and other such silly dismissals. He snorts, like, yeah - a little melodramatic.]

You think? I can't conjure you some lungs out of thin air, but I can help with some of it. Let's try fine-tuning what you already have, first. In the meantime, if one of us is awake, I'd think that should keep us both out of the... possibility dream.

[But they should probably just both stay awake anyway, for moral support.]

What time is it?

Hm, I would hardly blame him if it were an elbow with intent this time. [he doubts it, they didn't seem much like the enemies to lovers trope, but a little self hatred directed towards a different self never hurt a guy.]

Well, that is a start. I will look into it. [it would be easier if he had an organic base to work with. maybe when everything is less swimming in his head he'll bug palamedes for what exactly he can do or make then go from there. look for someone with abilities that could help.

he rests a hand on pal's jaw.] Too damnably early, I imagine. If you can go to sleep do so, I do not think I will be able. [and he'll happily guard that joint dream possibility from happening again. just stew over it instead which is marginally better?]

Hmm, I would, [like, right in the face? His very handsome face? That's a crime, if other-Palamedes did indeed get him in the noggin. Maybe if it were in the shoulder or someplace else he'd allow it.

But never mind all that; now he's thinking about how to build a lung, and whether or not there's a single sanitary operating room in this whole town, in the case of replacing some lungs, and... hmm. He turns his head to press a kiss to Viktor's palm, then settles back in with an arm draped over him. Ah, what a shame the strange dream took them right out of the rare perfect sleep.]

Are you sure? I could stay up with you.

[He has to offer, it's the law.]

[pal gets a soft snort and a kiss to his forehead for that, settling back down to watch pal's mind work around whatever it was he pondered now. lungs, he assumes, necromancy. fascinating workings.]

I am sure. Sleep, and if you look even mildly perturbed I will wake you. Best not to risk it, hm? [a sort of joke? kind of? maybe a little more than mildly perturbed but yeah.

he makes a point of pulling the blanket up to make sure it's comfortably over pal's shoulder.]

[Damn, a kiss and being tucked in, talk about an acts of caretaking love language here in this bunker. Palamedes is convinced - by the blanket pull, honestly, this is the thing that gets him. He huffs, amused like being mildly perturbed is all that happened tonight, of course, but he curls into Viktor all the same.]

Just give me an hour or two; I'll be fine with that much.

[True? He'll find out. He makes a mental note to pester Viktor to nap later, before letting himself drift back to mercifully dreamless sleep.]

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april catch - all

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