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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[this is interesting, insofar as he has no idea who this man must be. pal has told him of the others in the trench but mostly the ninth, of gideon and harrow more than anyone. the others? pal's always seemed largely neutral on them- a saint, he said, an emperor. one title baffling and the other bringing to mind the sort of tales viktor's heard of noxus and its own empire.

(he's also heard about god, just a little, but that figure isn't the same as an emperor, is it? and certainly not in the trench. of course.)

he has to wonder for a moment why pal wouldn't have brought him to this man's doorstep if he could help. it doesn't make this visit seem any more promising for his illness but at least it's an interesting one.]

I am intrigued by it- your necromancy, the eh, the rules of it and structure seems a promising way to try and unwind the nuances of blood magic. Every arcane system has a language after all, it must to be able to translate to direct result through the will of the mage or the spellwork. That necromancy already has so many commonalities is more of a starting point than any other magic system I have heard of.

[well. he has the good grace to recognize he went on a small tangent there, offering a vaguely sheepish look.] Like I said, intriguing. I suppose that explains the 'miracle work.'

[how does he politely say 'pal already hasn't been able to do much so i'm not sure you'll be able to help?' clearly they're both necromancers of similar caliber. that's. definitely what is happening here.]

[ His eyebrows quirk up, at the obvious enthusiasm. Viktor goes sheepish, but God nods encouragement.

Looks like Palamedes may have found someone useful, and didn't see fit to share him. ]

That's been my real project, lately. [ He gestures to the books on the table. ] Translating between systems, trying to whip up a local theory of everything. The miracles are more of a side gig.

[ At this, he clasps his hands together as though to bring them back to topic. He regards Viktor more seriously again in his little spooky bones-and-flowers tent. ]

As best I can tell, there are a few factors in your favor, and a few against. Healing the sick goes different with Sleepers than with locals. [ He quirks a wry smile. ] The locals are human; Sleepers are something a few steps to the left. There's a certain dream logic at play inside every squid. The body takes a shape remembered by the soul... if something's been a part of you too long, it can be damned difficult to make the changes stick.

[ It's like Lyctorhood, that way. The rules bear more than a passing resemblance. And it's bad news for the chronically ill. ]

On the upside, [ and this he says politely, like good news, ] nothing that kills a Sleeper can keep us down for long.

[ah, that explained things. color him properly intrigued, and now confident this man at least isn't a snake oil salesman, probably. still iffy on the 'doctor' part but necromancers are their own wild thing anyway.]

I've found translated Palamedes' wards to the system of magic I understand quite fruitful, if you would like to see my notes on the matter. My main project at the moment has been further translating blood magic and the wards with technology, which has had decent results.

[blood hextech, which is always fun to try and explain. still, he could probably go on and on about this when there is a point to this visit that isn't current projects.

one this man sticks to, and for the first time viktor finds himself genuinely wondering if maybe he can help. the idea of dream logic isn't one he's considered and it does neatly fill in some rational gaps of the whole ridiculous affair. it would certainly explain his body retaining all its troubles despite the new power flowing through it.

that good news about death has him looking uneasy though and he admits,] In truth that concerns me, I cannot be sure what will happen should I die from this. Will I simply return to the point I was when I first emerged from the sea and repeat the process? Will the time between deaths get shorter or longer? There are some eh... some unpleasant possibilities.

That said the blood I cough up tends to attract beasts as well, which may end up killing me before my lungs do at this rate. [good news all around.]

[ He is openly interested at the offer of notes. ] I would. Palamedes strikes me as an excellent necromancer, make no mistake, [ a River bubble, intentionally ] but I've been at it a bit longer than he has. [ (His eyes crinkle when he says it, like it's a joke.) ] I'd be interested to see the overlap.

[ To the possibility of cyclical, worsening deaths, he gives a sympathetic little tsk. Tips his head with a nod like it's a puzzle put before them, and not a viscerally horrifying concept. He's not great at spotting viscerally horrifying, these days. ]

Not a fun hypothetical, no. Let's see what I can do about your beast problem, then.

[ He offers a hand, palm-up, for Viktor to take. It's not like he needs the contact, but it puts people at ease, you know? No one likes to think a guy can rearrange their insides from a distance. ]

He's remarkable, truly. His ward work has been a great inspiration in my own work. [pretty obvious from his tone just how fond he is of palamedes, a matter he finds less and less point in hiding these days. this is not piltover, where a cautious privacy in all matters was simply a way to survive them.] I take it you did not know each other in your own world?

[that doesn't seem shocking, given they live between planets there. what he'd do to see a space ship properly- but yes, that overlap would be quite interesting. especially if this man seems to have a focus on magics related to the body, enough for his 'miracle work.'

viktor nods and reaches out, placing his hand on top of the man's. he resists the urge to ask questions yet, that will come in time, no doubt. best let the man concentrate when he is... doing whatever this is going to be. potentially manipulating his body with death magic, as it were.]

[ Oh, yeah, he can read that one a mile off. Good to know.

And God says: ]

This may sting a bit.

[ It may feel like being struck in the chest by a falling star.

There is an invisible, searing flare; a citric burn; a visceral, bone-deep reworking of blood vessels and pulmonary tissue. He smooths away inflammation as readily as he would press clay into shape, as smoothly as he would flex a muscle. He floods blood with oxygen like an afterthought. This magic resembles thanergenic warding in the way that sea tides share principles with a local creek. This is something deep, and comprehensive, and vast.

It lasts bare instants, and then it is done. He releases Viktor's hand and sits back. ]

[there's an instant of panic when it starts, that stomach drop of wondering if he somehow walked into a trap and this sudden spike of fire through his chest was not healing but hurt.

said flare doesn't last long enough for the panic to take proper root, and with its clearing viktor sucks in a breath that feels... different. there's still a rattle, still a discomfort, but the wet pressure is gone. a deeper breath and while his lung twinge and protest it doesn't threaten to slip into wracking coughs that shake his bones and leave him with blood on the back of his tongue.

his hand goes to his chest- another testing breath, exhaled like a long sigh.] Oh. [a quiet response, more to himself as if juggling with how one faced the reality of what feels very much like the 'miracle work' he was told to expect.

his gaze goes back to the black eyed man, surprise still curling at the edges.] Do you- will this stick? I feel... clearer.

[ He considers the result in patient quiet. When Viktor speaks, he tips his head in a half-shrug. Goes so far as to wobble a hand. ]

Hard to say, if I'm honest. Sleeper anatomy can be finicky.

[ There should not be any rattle, any discomfort. He should have total mastery of the body before him; he should be able to pull Viktor's lungs out, make them dance a jig, and put them back again no harm done, which is the sort of comment that would make reasonable smalltalk on the Third but maybe shouldn't be said here. It is genuinely grating that the result is anything other than his will made manifest.

It should not be like Cytherea.

There's a fleck of— disappointment? frustration?— in his dark eyes, some guarded edge to his smile. Then it's gone, as he sweeps it away behind easy warmth. ]

If it gives you trouble again, come on back. I'm not going anywhere.

[ Because they're all being held captive by giant eldritch squid, ha ha. ]

[it would be a little disappointing to know this will fade if it weren't the most progress he's made so far. it feels freeing, to finally have at least some option here that gives him blessed time he's always been chasing. there was never enough of it, always counting down in months then weeks, and now-

he takes another breath. he forgot what it felt like when he first came into the academy and he didn't have to keep careful track of his breathing to keep from aggravating his lungs.]

Thank you. [he's sincere there, can't help the relief in his tone before his expression goes more focused.] What payment do you take? I have blood stones or can donate paleblood, though if you need anything repaired or made in terms of machinery I can offer that as well.

[because things don't come free, as generous as people have been. especially not a minor miracle.]

[ His smile tilts more genuine at the offer, and he waves it off just as easily. ]

No need. I'd be happy enough for a chat over notes.

[ Access to blood and bloodstone isn't much of an issue, for him. Access to people, to ideas, is a lot more interesting.

And it's always seemed a bit gauche to charge for miracles. ]

[he can't say he's surprised by this, though it still feels odd how generosity works in the trench. he's used to desperation breeding a specific kind of generosity yes, one tempered with violence and all the cruelties that come with survival.

he supposes when you don't have to fear a true end with death things are different. maybe sleepers are different in general, handpicked by some force.

it will always make him a little uneasy, but seeing it as an exchange of ideas is better.] Well, the offer stands if needed. I would be happy to bring my notes by some other time though.

I don't suppose you are one of the necromancers that live in Gaze as well? Palamedes and I live in a bunker somewhat near the ah- the house with the skeletons. [bone house is still somewhere between Weird and amusing to him, truth be told. it's a lot.]

[ Palamedes has company in the bunker? That's news. Adorable. He's happy for them. ]

The house with the skeletons, that's the one. Drop by anytime. Palamedes comes by often enough [ rarely, reluctantly ] to have a look at my research or raid the kitchen for snacks.

[ Palamedes is the only one among their number who lives separately, in some foxhole he pointedly never mentions. Palamedes is the only one who has made no bones about his distaste: even Gideon is warming to the idea of a happy family, and Augustine is... differently complicated. ]

He's mentioned it, yes. [neutrally, or mostly when speaking of the gaggle of teens and ninth house members.] Hm, I will make a visit. Or you could drop by Allen's sanctuary, if you would like, I have been spending most of my time there lately.

[they can use pal's office, which surely pal will love. viktor's curiosity gets the better of him though and he decides to ask,] I never got your name. Or suppose I should ask which house you are from?

I haven't been out to see it yet. Maybe I should.

[ To that question, he gives a slow smile, somewhere between wry and wistful. The answer is none of them and all of them, but this is funnier. Useful, maybe, too. ]

Most of our group know me as Teacher. [ Certainly those who walk with him as he works miracles, and he's been expanding the circle, lately. Like the old days. Some prefer a clipped my lord, but surely Palamedes will catch him up on that bit. ] The First House is a little funny with names. I'm sure Palamedes can lay it out from the Sixth perspective, should you ask.

[ a conversation that will go well and normally ]

It's an intriguing place, to be sure. I believe the former residents were doing experiments with lunar energy or simply the moon itself. [which he's quite interested in. he promised pal to keep away from poking at the nature of the ocean too deeply, at least not yet. but the moon and lunar energy? fair game.

this answer is intriguing though- teacher and 'know me as' is telling, which solidifies this man doesn't seem keen on sharing his true name. first house though, that's what catches his attention. he's learned very little about that house from pal, only vague snippets and one memorable evening of unwinding the tragedy that caused pal's death. first death.

it is... hm. he certainly needs to discuss this with pal, he thinks. there's enough oddities here that tell him a great deal of nuance is flying blissfully over his head.

(is this a lyctor, he wonders? he saw a world where palamedes became one, knows how powerful they supposedly are. knows how they are made to some extent, and tries not to feel uneasy at the idea the man before him is powered by the warped soul of some poor cavalier now lost.)]

I suppose I will. I'm afraid I know very little about the first house. It seems the ninth is the eh, the most popular here.

[ He quirks a particular smile at anyone calling the Ninth the most popular; there's another one to make most of the faithful keel over. The muttering has always come up like clockwork, about cults and heresy and what exactly qualifies as a planet.

(Let Anastasia have it, right? 'Dwarf planet' sounds cute, in his opinion, but a House is a House. It was built as a place of significance to the Empire. He's always been a little too hands-off, a little too sentimental.)

All he says is: ]

Seems that way. We have a good little group gathered.

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april catch - all

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