You're adding more adjectives, [Palamedes murmurs in vague, faux-protest. He may have added 'hopeless' himself a moment ago, but it's the principle of the thing; still, he's glad for the adjectives, for at least that proves Viktor is - more himself. Palamedes squeezes his hand, and when Viktor pulls him closer—
Which for a moment he does not comprehend, so fixed on the silver that covers Viktor's skin that he may have already assumed the life-sized double had vanished, sick of being ignored—
When Viktor pulls him closer he moves in easily, tucking their joined hands between them to get a little warmth back in those fingers. The momentary awkwardness of holding hands ebbs away as he turns to start them down the quickest path back home, through the fewest beast-tempting zones. It's not utilitarian, or businesslike, but something else entirely - something that hums in his chest, louder when Viktor tries to offer him an apology meal and tugs at his heartstrings.]
No. But not tonight; I had my sandwich, and I'm going to make you rest. As long as... he's still dogging your heels, you aren't out of the woods yet. Have you eaten?
I haven't even started. Reckless, bull-headed- [viktor answers back, all very normal except for the fact his fingers tremble a bit as he holds up his free hand to count them off.] - ridiculous.
[sweet, is another and he's not going to say it even if he thinks it. maybe it's implied in how he trails off. he follows without complaint, eyes ahead instead of to the mimic that follows in a mockery of his own limping gait, as if it leans on a crutch that isn't even there. it's easier to ignore it and focus on pal's hand in his, or watching him from the corner of his eye as they move and pal fusses.
there's a few things on the tip of his tongue. i can take care of myself is a classic, one he's used on jayce and even sky several times over, a good way to scare off well meaning concern. i'm fine is a standby for many in this place, he'd imagine, pal included. pal especially, maybe, if he's lived by himself in his quiet little bunker meant for two people this long. that one never flies anyway regardless of who says it, not in a place where no one is really fine at any point without a lot of compartmentalizing and a splash of denial.]
No. [he settles for the truth, because he doesn't really remember when he last ate in the mad rush of things and he has the distinct feeling the moonlight is the only reason he doesn't feel markedly worse for that fact.] You can... you can subject me to what you've been forced to make for yourself. A fitting punishment.
[again, at least an attempt at dry. they're still just casually holding hands and that is something he can't remember ever doing before outside of being a child. even jayce and all his tendency to physical affection would lead him by the elbow at best. he thinks he should find this childish but his grip tightens regardless as they get closer to home.]
Bull-headed? [said with all the incredulity he can muster in these specific circumstances, as no one has ever called him something like bull-headed before. Is he really? Maybe he's taking after Cam in her absence, but only in the very best ways, of course.]
Punishment for self-care crimes? Maybe for ignoring my questions.
[Leaving him on read... the cruelest. Viktor can call it punishment all he likes, Palamedes thinks, as he believes he's made it fundamentally clear that it's all in the name of taking care of Viktor's silver doppelganger problem and seeing that he's well, if not in so many words. He'll make a sandwich; Viktor will eat a sandwich, and step... two-ish will be complete. Easy.
He's wondering if the rest will be easy, keeping the silver off Viktor and the double at bay, but Viktor's grip on his hand helps with that even before he really gets the thought going. There's going to be— there's no way he can think his next thought that doesn't sound at least a smidge awkward, but with the double still persistently plodding along behind them, there's going to be more touch involved, as per the working theory. Viktor's clutch onto his hand is some modicum of acceptance of that, he thinks, which is - good. That's good.
But the sandwiches can come first. The walk to the bunker feels more urgent the closer they get, and Palamedes has to resist looking at the double every few paces to see what it's doing now, if it looks any less solid, if it's looking back at them. Once inside the bunker he steers Viktor to the couch rather than the uncomfortable kitchen chairs, eyeing the double warily as he lets go his hand - and turns to go make a sandwich.
In fairness: it's less a sandwich and more two pieces of bread with some jam in between, do not perceive him, but it's food and it tastes good, and he brings it over on a napkin instead of a plate because that is just the life he's living. Here; eat of his sandwich and be well. He sits, and if he's staring intently at Viktor to see how much silver has come back in the handful of minutes he spent slapping jam onto bread, well.
Mhm, quite bull-headed. That's really the one that sticks out? [is the answer, though he's quick to grimace a little at the real crime- leaving on read. talk about rude. he knows he would have been climbing up a wall of pal did the same to him, which... really, goes to show he can't call pal all this without being a bit hypocritical.]
I am sorry about that. [he tries, and hence accepting food as the ultimate punishment apparently. or at least offering an attempt to reign in his own stubbornness and conceding that pal can and is going to help. the second he sees any hint of the tether shifting to pal he'd panic, of course, but for now...
in some ways it feels like a blink and they're there, plopped on the couch as his double sits across from him on nothing like an absurd, unnerving mime. losing pal's touch doesn't immediately bring any silver back, it isn't until he focuses on staring at his mimic that it starts to creep up again like a punishment for the world's most unsettling staredown.
he lets go of his crutch where he had been holding it tightly, letting it rest against the nearby wall to take the sandwich.] I have notes, somewhere... observations. They can move through solid matter to stay with their target, they will break their mimicry in small ways to course correct and remain in eyeshot if possible. Any harm done to them is reflected on the user, they repel water and presumably other liquids.
[eat the sandwich pal slaved over a hot bottle of jam for. he does take a bite, and some of that silver that creeped back up recedes with the fact pal make food for him, of all the stupid little things.
he's slowly chewing his first bite and regarding the sandwich like it holds some mystery, because it does, in a way. of all the things they've done, of all the little moments and vocal affirmations, this is the one that finally strikes something in him. maybe it's the undercity in him, food and offering it always had a different connotation when food was largely scarce. maybe it's being too worn down for mental gymnastics, maybe it's a lot of things but when he glances at pal he finally thinks back to pal cupping his jaw and what the next logical step often was with such an action.
oh.
his eyes go back to the sandwich, heart rate picking up but not exactly surprised. oh. he closes his eyes and struggles with what happened with information like this. he didn't get 'crushes,' he could recognize when someone was attractive and appreciate that fact, he could understand the lure of wanting to spend time with someone for their personality but a draw that comes from such a deeply vulnerable place is-
he takes another bite of his sandwich like a stalling tactic. pal got him fruit he never tried before the first time he came over, and he wonders if that isn't where this started. the talks before even? their ridiculous little heist that holds a special place in his heart.]
T-thank you. [he does manage eventually, trying to go with compartmentalizing as a tactic to deal with the sudden onslaught of information and everything he currently needs to re-establish ie their interactions. he needs charts for this.
what this does on a tether is probably a bit odd, a sort of faded quality to some of it's edges but a sharpness in other areas. a rollercoaster one way or another.]
[Oh, he's got data after all. Palamedes listens to him talk, noting these things for - he hopes not, but - future reference, but also just taking note of the more even cadence of his voice. He slaved over a sandwich to listen to these notes, and he's content to stare intently at Viktor's profile while he talks without entirely focusing on the words, but-]
Harm?
[Hello? Harm done do it? What's been happening for three days, sir. But he holds up a hand, like, don't answer him; eat the sandwich. He can wait, and he will, the intensity of his gray-eyed stare softening the longer Viktor just, well. Eats a sandwich. He's eyeballing the progress and recession of the silver with impatience, as if staring it down will make it go faster.
Viktor thanks him for the jam sandwich, and Palamedes hums in vague assent, enjoy the sandwich— more importantly, the silver on the back of Viktor's neck is problematic in a way he can't sit and just look at any longer. He tilts toward Viktor, hand raised and hesitating only momentarily (like, he is interrupting dinner, here) before he sets his fingertips on the back of Viktor's neck carefully, like the silver makes him delicate.
It does, in a way; after three days of wondering and then the hopeless way Viktor looked at him at the docks, Palamedes can't help the swell of emotions that burns beneath his ribs. There's a buzzing anxiety at the forefront, of course, and a relief, and an affection that burns brighter than the rest— his hand on Viktor's neck is as much a reassurance for himself as anything else. That's something he'll think about later, he decides. Right now he's concerned with the physical - Viktor, warm, real. Not turning into metal, which—
The tether— whatever it does gets a glance out of him, on edge like he might have to chuck a lumpy couch pillow at it in a second, but - no, it's? That's a response, indeed.]
Sorry, [he says, for lack of anything better to say. He doesn't pull back his hand.] How do you feel?
[viktor snorts softly, does as he's told and takes another few bites- wonderful, if he looks too long he thinks of things like how he can see pal's eyes better this close, the shade of them, how the little, constant motions draw his eyes-
no. another bite. a crooked smile, weak but present as he answers,] I may have gotten annoyed and given it a little whack. Just earned a bump on the arm for my trouble.
[he should have just messaged pal then, he accepts that much. he's still a bit unsure about this but thus far they're safe, the tether hasn't grown teeth or reattached or... whatever it does. annoy him personally, he thinks. corrupt him, more likely. that did seem to be a running theme, and he quells a spike of nerves at the thought of turning into something that could hurt pal.
no, that won't help things. he knows enough about corruption to know it's just make things worse.
he does a good job of burying it along with several pal related thoughts, up until pal's touching him again. he looks over with a touch of surprise, cursing whatever damn god or pthumerian is making this happen because really, pal keeps looking at him like that and viktor can't see how the silver just keeps receding the more he's touched, the more he reads such a sincere concern in pal's gaze it aches.]
Fine- better. Ah- [he scrambles for something, glancing over to where the tether seems more and more faded out, a lingering shadow rather than a solid threat.] So... touch is the key to this? It's diminishing based off your- based off contact, it seems.
Wonderful, if that's the case I really did make quite an ass of myself running off. [he's not blushing about any of this, you are. he can handle being touched by his newfound infatuation. god, why couldn't it be simple attraction? that is so much easier, it's all the tangle of feelings involved that have him scrambling on what to do. attraction he could just accept then dismiss, maybe make an offer if he's feeling bold and accept whatever outcome came from it.
this? it shouldn't be anymore complicated but it truly is.]
[Could he, in theory, absolutely wreck a person for Doing Harm to someone he cares about? Yes, it would not even be hard — but he's not going to pretend he's got anything going for him without the element of surprise. So, lucky: not having to go on the warpath.
He watches the silver creep back down, following it just so with his fingertips - but not too far. He's aware of what he's doing here, he's not completely out of touch with reality while he runs his fingers all over Viktor, but the silver is one hell of an excuse for this arguably inappropriate behavior. He hums, nodding, running his thumb along a stripe of silver and watching it shrink.]
You did. [Like, that's true, he's comfortable enough in Viktor's overall safety to say that now.] I was— You scared me, you know.
[Not an accusation; just a murmur, as his mess of emotions solidifies into a thing that wants to come out in pieces, it seems. Viktor was an ass, Palamedes was scared, Palamedes was also bull-headed and stubborn and he's still feeling those things, too, admittedly-
He sighs, managing a small smile.]
Finish your sandwich. Do you still want to talk about legacy? Or...
[viktor's brow quirks, a moment to consider how pal might have finished that sentence and reaching-] Going to fight someone?
[that should be said with humor but he damns himself, his tone going soft. (the tether shuddering minutely, lesser.) he doesn't know how to thank something like that other than making an earnest effort to finish off half of the sandwich, which he does after a few more bites. he can't say he has much of an appetite but it helps regardless to get some food down. he can't bring himself to focus on it any longer when pal is still touching him and he's trying not to shiver and give himself away.
he wonders if there is an ethical issue here, should he say 'you are touching someone who just realized he very much could kiss you right now, does that change your comfort with the situation?' just check it off like a list of requirements for said touching to even be allowed. it probably made their living together questionable too, which really, his own damn feelings couldn't let him have any nice things?
a shame they couldn't be switched off like a well oiled machine, which is a passing thought that might be a harbinger for troubles to come, though here it's met with a humorless smile as he places the other half of the sandwich to the side.]
I hope you understand I wasn't- it was not a matter of trust. Foolishness, yes, but I simply did not wish to subject you to any of it. You... you deserve better.
[he can't even sound awkward, just a little resigned, a soft chuckle at pal's insistence. he pulls off another piece of it at least, trying not to be too obvious in how he leans back into pal's hand.] Morose nonsense. Regrets for a world I am not longer a part of. [he tries to dismiss.] The only use for those failures is to learn better for our time here, not living out the same pointless tragedies again and again.
Eh, sorry... I think despite knowing better I still struggle with putting a firm line between this life and where I was before. I'm sure all sleepers do at some point.
If it came to that, yes. [Yes, obviously, in an instant. Now that he's said it it doesn't sound as absurd to say, to admit that he would absolutely go to bat for Viktor, if necessary. Violence and necromancers are not strangers, far from it, and so it stands to reason that the willingness to get into actual fights for him is, hm—
Messy, and extreme, but in the deep-seated way of the Nine Houses, so intrinsically linking devotion and violence. So he can say if it came to that with the slightest hint of a crooked grin, like it's almost a joke, and beyond that he can simply let it be what it is: being, hm, personally invested. He thinks of Viktor's admission outside The Red, about showing him what the Sixth couldn't, and resolves that, yes— here is a person he would go to great lengths to protect.]
I— hmm. [He makes a face; how does he articulate that he wants, actually, to be subjected to it? That the depths of how much he cares for Viktor don't stop just above the silent tether still sitting half-formed across from them. He doesn't know; he says,] I wish you would have said something.
[—and that's that on that, more or less. Viktor leans into his hand - kind of hard to be subtle about that one, bud - and Palamedes splays his fingers out accommodatingly, palm flat and fingertips high enough to reach the ends of his hair. This he thinks about for a long couple seconds, then remembers to focus.]
Some more than others, [he offers; he can look back at his own life and put a pin in each moment where one of those lines should be drawn, but that doesn't mean he's immune to thinking about things he'd have liked to accomplish before, or whatever else.]
I think if we're supposed to be guilty for ever thinking like that, you ought to lock me up as soon as possible. Let me keep my books.
[ah, there's another of his undercity roots coming to play, that willingness to fight for someone you cared for. he's never cared for violence, avoided it as far as he could manage but he can recognize the care that comes with it. what it is to have someone you snarl and bear your teeth for. to be the subject of that is a little novel, hits him in the chest again like an unrelenting series of blows pal keeps piling on simply by caring the way he does.
he can't bring himself to do more than focus on the piece of sandwich in his hand, letting the warmth of pal's fingers ease some deep ache rather than feed into how much he is allowed to enjoy that. the silver has vanished from anywhere visible now, perhaps off his skin entirely. he still feels a faint chill down his back, under his makeshift brace, but it too is receding to a gentle warmth.]
... I'll say something, next time. [because there will probably be a next time, one way or another. he turns his head to regard pal.] If you'll let me have your back as well. Equivalent exchange.
[incredible bullshit, though the sentiment in general is there and strong. strong enough he even gives into sentiment to say,] I'd have it anyway, whether you agree or not. But an agreement would make things easier.
[a glance to the tether and he can see it all but crumbled where it sits, a state of decay without the actual rot, a little on the nose given the state of his life but he choses to see it as the dying of something he's needed to cut out of himself anyway. the way it's faded now makes it difficult to tell who it's staring at anymore, and when viktor raises a hand it follows shakily.]
In truth it's for the best, I think. To let go of everything of our old worlds would be denying ourselves something integral. When I moved to Piltover it would have been easier to do that, let go of everything the undercity made of me, but I would have been greatly lesser for.
[he moves his raised hand to rest on pal's arm, around his elbow, the one still at his neck. he watches his tether touch something that isn't there and feels the oddest sympathy for the briefest moments before his attention and gaze turns to pal again.] For what it's worth I'd sneak you any books you'd like, if you were locked up for such crimes. [more for what it's worth he's glad pal lets himself be who he is, regrets and all.]
[Next time, of course. Becoming used to next times is part and parcel for life here in Trench, admittedly not Palamedes' favorite thing ever. He wishes he could promise there would be no next times, but even the thought feels childish; truth over solace, after all. He nods.]
Equivalent exchange. You don't have to strongarm me; I'm agreeing.
[Now he manages the whole grin, like the suggestion he wouldn't agree is the joke, here. Viktor getting into danger because of him is obviously less than ideal? Still, he's always been prone to dramatic declarations of trust and working together, so in some ways this feels... inevitable, in a comfortable way.
The inevitable danger not so much... they'll deal with that when it comes.]
I don't disagree, [he says, looking over at the tether and what's become of it for a moment before his focus swings back to Viktor. Much as he's glad to see it go, there is something viscerally unsettling about watching a Viktor-shaped thing crumble in real time. Eugh.] I couldn't stop being Sixth if I tried.
[He shrugs; he can and has angrily denied some other bizarre, garbage aspects of the Nine Houses just these past few weeks alone, but the Sixth? Being a necromancer, with a cavalier? Some things are simply integral, indeed.
After a moment he shifts to sink back into the couch, just kind of- assuming Viktor will lean back with him, ahem. The tether is on its last, er, silver bits, Viktor has eaten his sandwich; they're entitled to a moment of peace.]
Thanks; I'll dedicate my prison novel to you. [Hmm. A beat.] It's easier to sublimate regret into nostalgia, isn't it? I could paint over the ugly parts and say, no; this me is the freshly improved version, ignore the rest... but the ugly parts would still be there.
[Truth, solace, etc. Maybe he's looked at the tether for too long.]
[the grin on pal has viktor's lips quirking, and really, all this makes him feel more the fool for running off. maybe he should learn a valuable lesson about asking for help or keeping people in the loop rather than, you know, passing out bleeding over hexcores or considering taking dangerous drugs and doing dangerous magic. or running off to the docks.
well, he's learned something at least. he doesn't think he'll leave pal on read again, so that's a start.
he's happy to settle back with a sigh, keeping his hand on pal's arm for the moment, using the last of the tether as his excuse despite knowing better now. the chill is gone, he thinks if he checked there wouldn't be a scrap of silver on him. he focuses on pal's words instead of that glaring fact.]
I know. [morose but sometimes even morose things were very much true.] I've done as much already here, grand plans to make better on mistakes I've made, pretending the ugly bits of them are now easy to locate and conquer with perspective and logic.
And yet I still ran off again to the docks rather than accept the chance of hurting people is simply a part of companionship. The eh... the character growth could use a little work.
[he offers a faint smile, and with it the tether fades entirely. viktor glances to where it was, swallowing but keeping his hand against pal's elbow for just a beat too long before he reluctantly pulls it away.]
[Mm, and Palamedes is comfortable like this, not quite leaning into Viktor but close enough to feel the whole presence of him. This, truly, is the ideal circumstance to talk about - mistakes and ugly parts, and half-finished character growth. It has a sort of exhausted but relieved quality to it, content through pure fatigue after the melting pot of high octane emotions the past few days have provided.
So, the morose.]
There's always next time. [He considers.] I'd been— before, you know, my problem with the sea monster, I'd been waiting around to go back home, I think. Camilla was here, and I suppose something gave me the arrogance to not take the reality of this place seriously.
[None of which is something he's actually put into words until now, out loud where someone can hear it, so - appreciate that. He knows better now.]
I don't like that, I don't know what I was thinking, but it's not as if I can pretend it didn't happen. As a fellow work in progress: we're doing a mediocre job of it.
[This is, for all intents and purposes, a compliment. A mutual one. Endure him.
—and oh! There goes the tether, out like somebody turned off its lights. Palamedes blinks at the space where it'd been, then,] But like I said; I tend to win.
[there is something comforting in this worn out space, the walls lowered enough he can even ignore the twisting feelings he has about finding himself wanting to touch pal's jaw the way pal did him. it's an easy place to be an ear, or a nod, an understanding without the baggage of vulnerability.
he's no longer cold down to his bones, and he can just nod to that, curling a little so he can face pal better, shifting to find a spot that doesn't have either brace digging in.]
The cruelest aspect of this place is the understanding even when we wake up of our new reality, that... knowing deep down. We deserve the chance to thrash against it, to try and shape it around until it slots naturally. I wouldn't call it arrogance so much as rebellion, the right to react irrationally against all this blasted rationality and change.
Hm... though maybe that's just the messy humanity in me. [he closes his eyes a moment, a little surprised at how comfortable he is when typically his body is a myriad of aches.] I want so badly to do good here. Do you think it's possible, in so nebulous a place?
[of course pal claiming a victory makes him chuckle and open his eyes again. oh if only he had jayce's bravery with all the casual touch, he wants to reach over and squeeze his shoulder or just... anything.
instead he offers,] Thank you. Really. I don't think I would have lasted much longer.
[That makes it sound reasonable, Palamedes thinks, not the mess of off-kilter decisions that ended with him dumped back into the sea. He shifts when Viktor turns, leaning his elbow on the back of the couch and tilting his head to one side and then the other, like, maybe—]
Rebellion has better aim than I do. I think you're right— really. But you know me; I need to know precisely where to put the pieces together from the start.
[Which makes him just as messy as anyone else, just tilted in the other direction. If he had the answer, if he knew all the theorems to pluck at to understand the truth of this place from its Powers that Be all the way down to the blood in their veins, he would feel - better. It still chafes to think of waking up after five apparent weeks of squid darkness, without an ounce of control over it.
But that's too in his head. Emotionally, like a proper messy human, Palamedes believes Viktor has a point - and the question makes him raise an eyebrow, bumping his knee into Viktor's thigh, like, really? Sir.]
For you, with that mind of yours? Absolutely. You will. You aren't nebulous.
[He looks away for a beat, not wanting to dwell much on the possibility that the tether could have - gotten Viktor, whatever that would have looked like. There's no way of knowing, but in a place like this, it's always safer to err on the side of caution. He doesn't know what to say to it that he hasn't already said - he's here, it was terrifying, he'd love for it to never happen again - all of those would simply be repeating himself, so.
In place of the non-repetitive words he doesn't have, he sits up straighter to face Viktor and hold out his arms. Come give him a hug for being alive and not metal, goddamn.]
Hm, that is true. It is a trait I admire about you. [viktor says honestly, no real intention to flatter just... he does. it is an admirable trait that should be commended, in his mind.] But it is a maddening thing, no doubt. Sometimes I feel the deeper you look here the more twisted the road goes. Too many worlds and realities with too many sets of rules suddenly thrust together, many of them retaining echoes of those rules as far as they will fit.
[maybe that is why everything is so unstable. but yes, in a way it breaks his heart to imagine the time after camilla left and pal stuck without even the small comfort understanding what it all really meant. just there and gone, human formed than a squid in the ocean- than a squid himself. why any of it, why called here, what purpose.
it really is a maddening road to go down, one he lets drift to snort softly at the knee bumping his thigh.]
I am very much so, or at least passive. It was my greatest sin back home, playing by their rules and hoping I'd one day be let off my leash. ... ha, waiting for permission to change the world.
[at least that is a lesson he's trying to learn well, though he's aware the next extreme of being too active and meddling where he should not is a distinct possibility. he'd rather lean towards that than being passive again, ever again. just as back home all he needs is time.
of course pal is spreading his arms like that and viktor... well, he's too tired to start wondering if he's somehow an evil creature for hugging someone he's very much developing feelings for without their knowing. meaning he can be perfectly platonic about this, he can, only that beat of hesitation before he shifts so he can wrap around pal.
well. maybe purely platonic is impossible, but it can just be a rush of gratitude as he holds him, a rattling sigh like the last of the ice dissipating with it.
he's going to need to tell him, to say something, maybe when they have both had time to rest and emotions aren't running so high. he can't keep being passive in his own life, in his work, he promised himself that and it pertains to here too. the worst that could happen is hurting, and they all already hurt plenty, for far worse reasons.]
[Palamedes hums, vague and... dissatisfied, if he had to pick an emotion. His instinct is to pick it all apart, to get down past how and even why and work firmly within the now what, but that's a strategy for a place with fewer unknowns. Fewer variables, less constant change. Nothing has been at all consistent here even from month to month, besides the things like... corruption. A general malaise. That kind of thing.
So, in that case. What now.]
Pretending it's all going to make sense is a fool's errand; there's something here, it just has to be approached in the correct way. If the rules work differently depending on the angle, or the individual— I don't know; so be it? It's what we have to go on.
[So a new strategy, that should be the plan. A new perspective, working within the rules he knows but without adhering to them so rigidly that he snaps and is left drifting. It aligns perfectly well with their plan to push the limits of the bloodstones with off-world magic, he thinks.
And, well. There's plenty he could say to Viktor being, ah, left off the leash here? But half of it feels like platitudes and the other half he puts a pin in, because Viktor leans into his offered embrace and that's that on thinking about anything else, for the moment. Palamedes pulls him in and holds tight, like Viktor will simply evaporate if he doesn't, like a man on the verge of falling with only this to keep him steady. It's only meant to be a few seconds, a perfectly normal hug like the sort anyone might give after nearly losing someone precious to a weird, silvery copy of themselves - earnest.
But it's the sigh that slots the last piece into place, for Palamedes. Something in the emotion it carries, in the way he can feel it up close that rearranges the data points in the correct order to form a new thing, and he thinks— ah. The half-certain something that's knocked around in the back of his mind since The Red, since all of that night but particularly just standing outside the big, stupid octopus - that thing settles into a shape, and ah, okay.
He knows this: it feels comfortable, safe, to sit here like this, and he will never look at Viktor the same way again. Not as heavy as it sounds, not really, and he gives Viktor one last earnest squeeze to excise all his errant relief before pulling back enough to look at him. Hm.]
Luckily for you, none of us have to answer to anything here. [well.] Aside from, say, ethics.
So be it. [viktor repeats with a one shouldered shrug, because that really was it. so be it, this was where they landed.] Our research is promising regardless, and every dead end is just another possibility to cross off the list and narrow it ever down.
When you're feeling particularly generous you can even call it exciting. [a touch dry but not entirely untrue, he thinks. there is something to standing at the start of some great understanding, when the possibilities still feel endless. it wears you down quickly but it has its moments.
with the hug over viktor offers a crooked sort of smile, a final squeeze of pal's arm with his hand before he's flopping back again. maybe before he'd make some kind of joke, about never being much of a hugger before pal, but there's too much rolling in his mind about that for it to feel appropriate.]
No fundraisers, no galas, no council breathing down our necks- maybe we actually are in the superior world. [a joke. sort of. sort of a joke. he'll admit, he does miss funding, that was nice when they actually got their hands on it.] No... Oversight Body, was it?
It does put a lot more responsibility on not pushing where we should not, I suppose.
Well, I like to believe I have a moral center, so stop me if I start poking around in places I shouldn't. Maybe they teach decency different outside of the Empire.
[No, they almost certainly do, but this is still a joke. The freedom of being unfettered by all of the... song and dance of convincing other people that progress should be allowed to happen is appealing, he agrees with that. Perhaps if not for the blood pollution, and the beasts, and the corruption...
Well, this world isn't completely terrible all the way down. For one thing, he has this bunker. There's even a chalkboard in it!]
The Oversight Body exists to give me migraines, I'm sure of it. Did you know they rejected my suggestion that we could update our maintenance system? No, I'd rather have promising research and a dozen lists.
[And while their projects might not yet be anything but a dozen lists and a gleam in the eye, it does feel exciting. It also feels like he isn't the Master Warden in this town, and Viktor isn't a famous inventor, and they are just two guys who live in a bunker, so-
Real jobs. He's considering real jobs, if for nothing else than for the networking. The obvious choice is to make nice with the Arcane Scholars, but research is easy - he can hardly go a week without someone throwing all of their theories and notes in his face. Rather:]
I've been thinking about throwing my hat in with the blood ministers. Really hate the name, now that I've said it out loud— but it's been ages since I've had a practical education. [well, besides Canaan House's creepy basement, but he's not counting that.] What do you think?
Eh... I may not be the best for that task. When I first met Jayce I convinced him to continue defying the ethos and also break into the dean's office for the sake of his work. I think I would just enable you. [it was the right thing to do, he'll always believe that, but it didn't make a strong case for poking around where he shouldn't. if pal came to him with nearly anything, barring things that could immediately hurt him or others, the most likely scenario would be viktor asking exactly how he could help to dig them deeper.
his face scrunches in distaste hearing about the maintenance thing. like really.] Was it a matter of 'resources used in more appropriate areas' or stubborn tenacity that the old system worked fine? I hate both, in case you were wondering.
[talking like this makes him think of their first meeting, the easy back and forth that just built up with all the endless possibilities between their ideas. he knows even then he recognized something special, because for the first time since being here- since jayce's drifting further away even- he felt that inspiration that comes from proper collaboration with someone who could keep up. more so, someone who pushed.
his lips quirk like a private joke to himself, gods he is going to be unbearable if talking about oversight bodies and funding is enough to get him thinking sentimental nonsense, before considering the blood minister possibility seriously for a moment.
he barely needs a moment really. the answer is an obvious one.] I think you should- in fact I think it's an excellent idea. You already have a strong basis, and to be entirely honest I've found my one trip to the Lumenwood unhelpful. It would be good to have someone more thorough.
[sorry, npc blood ministers.] Also I think something more active that research would suit you. You are eh... a man of action, one could say? At least I believe so.
I did say ethics. Poking around in someone's office isn't going to release a century of misery onto the people; victimless crime. [So that's still on the table, certainly. If he wants to break into a Scholar's office instead of take a whole lecture course, that's fine, Viktor can come too. In fact, he should.]
And I'd say a bit of both. One day I'd like to meet whoever came up with the Oversight Body and give them a generous kick in the ass.
[Viktor can help with this, too, if only in the 'talking shit about the Oversight Body' department. Palamedes twists sideways on the couch, leaning his elbows back on the lumpy arm of it, to further consider Real Jobs.
First of all, this is flattery— like, he won't object, but it is. Somewhere in the squid sea Camilla is rolling her eyes, but Palamedes enjoys it; he will add 'man of action' and 'clearly better (more thorough) than local practitioners, possibly best even' to his list of reasons to investigate the blood ministering practice more.]
I'm going to introduce myself like that from now on. Master Warden of the Sixth, subtitle: man of action. [well, a light tease, but his smile is genuine.] You were talking about wanting to do good here; so do I. As wildly off-putting as Lumenwood is, [with the blood mist, gross] it's worth seizing the opportunity.
[And also... blood ministers do come into a lot of, ah, loose blood... if perhaps he made blood healing into a work study of what the different bloods are best suited for, well, even better for the bloodstone project (tm).
Regardless, it feels good to be proactive— and without the threat of looming sea monster, like his last attempt to get ahead of Trench's many problems. It's, ha, actionable, and he's grateful to have Viktor's support to lean on, when he needs to. Hm; that's sentimental, definitely. It's sentimental whenever Palamedes feels a desperate rush of gratitude for a friend, but it being Viktor adds another layer automatically, now.
Hmm!]
Of course, I'll still have no sense of what makes a reasonable lab hour, so that isn't going to change. [haha. yeah.]
Well... to be fair we did blow up the office a little. Still victimless unless you count the window. [also heimendinger seemed to think they were always only a step away from unleashing said century of misery with hextech, but that's another matter. he refuses to believe magic is just the gateway to all evil simply because it was misused in the past.
but regardless, he snorts softly at the expense of the oversight body.] I don't know how you do it, getting that involved with all the minutiae of bureaucracy. You are a far stronger man than I for suffering through it for the greater good.
[ah, he gets an eyeroll, fond despite himself as he says,] Do not forget to inform people how humble you are as well, they may forget. [a touch dry, and that bit about wanting to do good makes him nod in understanding.]
Legacy. [back to that again, but kinder this time.] I think the best legacy anyone can have is leaving the world a better, easier place than when they started.
Besides, if you do become a blood minister I can pester you endlessly about my purification research. Imagine, you thought you had seen how many questions I can throw at you but now with two relevant studies? [he gestures vaguely, like the sky is truly the limit now.] Truly unbearable.
[He scoffs, waving a hand. You can replace a window! There's no one hundred years of misery for breaking a little glass.]
You'll have to tell me that whole story one of these days. I never got to blow anything up that wasn't osseous, and even then, conservation of resources.
[Necromancy is normal.]
In any case, I like to think of it as the Oversight Body having to suffer me. They should have known better when they let me sit the exams; I've always had a gift for making everything my problem.
[And for humility, obviously, which he answers with a shrug and a grin he only kind of attempts to hide by looking down, taking his glasses off to fuss at the lenses. Hm, yes, never has there been a humbler Warden. Fiddling with his specs gives him a chance to recenter on the serious thing: legacies, and the whole point of them. Surprisingly easy to balance with the idea that waiting until tomorrow- or until they have permission, as it were- will be too late, for a topic that lives soundly in the future.]
I think you're right about that. The work is never done, is it? As it was written in time immemorial, giving up is for suckers. [Which he could probably say in a way that isn't a joke, given a minute, but he cares more about laughing and sinking down some in his new sideways couch position to bump Viktor with his knee again, for that one.]
Make an appointment; bring a list. What kind of maniac brings their work home? [A pause, for full effect. He sticks his glasses back on, belatedly.] Whatever I learn that could help, you'll be the first to know.
Gladly, it has all the right elements- minor and major explosions, threats of exile, academic misconduct on multiple levels. [meaning it was a fun story rather than a depressing one, which he thinks they could both use a little more of when it comes to their own worlds.
which speaking of,] And I would like to hear about a time blowing up bones of any sort was the solution to something in your life. [necromancy is weird, sorry.
the idea of pal being a terror to the board is a pleasant one, it makes him think of heimendinger having to deal with pal and that is wonderful. he really does care about the professor, promise, just he can't help but root for the one actually moving things forward.]
We would all loathe it if the work was done. [a shrug. he would, at least.] Just better if the work was less eh... dire each time. Less time fixing, more time creating.
[ah just more watching pal fondly, glancing away before he gives himself completely away like a fool by watching him laugh so softly.] That sounds like a challenge, how can I slip work into casual home conversation without you realizing I've done so? I am up for that task.
[his attention returns to pal, a touch more serious this time and a beat before he says,] I'd also appreciate keeping an ear out for anything or anyone who can help with my illness. I think it is time to be more proactive than I have been on that front. [wow a two shot here of actually talking about it because he trusts pal and the far gayer 'i want to make sure we have more time together' reason.]
[Well, he wiggles a hand, like, actually-] 'Solution'? Hmm.
[Necromancy is Weird.]
I'll hold you to this one, though. I'm committing it to memory: 'the one where the office exploded.' Just wait; I'll derail the next time you're trying to teach me to cook something with lots of steps.
[This is a warning. He will be a terror during cooking lessons, too. Call it making them even for Viktor subtly asking him about work, which he will surely do with flying colors. Speaking of work, though, and dire work in particular - he softens when the topic shifts to Viktor's illness, nodding.]
There's some work I could stand to see done, [he says, because, well, yeah? That speaks for itself, he thinks. He tips his head back and squints at the ceiling, lifting his hands to Gesture in the absence of looking at Viktor properly. Endure this.]
I've been thinking about that— well, it goes without saying that if I'm going to harangue the blood ministers for work and training, I can harangue them about one more thing. Has it gotten any worse, since you awoke here? Corruption marches on in all of us, but I wonder if the addition of blood magic impacts the progression of certain conditions. You did say you feel better at night.
[Or Long April Night, same thing. Do the preexisting conditions of a Sleeper remain in stasis, that's the question; Viktor was not cured of his illness upon waking, and while Palamedes doesn't know enough specifics about it to predict anything with certainty, he'd have... expected more than the errant wet cough.]
If I could offer you something to make it easier, I would. [But necromancy, again, is weird.] I'll keep thinking.
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Which for a moment he does not comprehend, so fixed on the silver that covers Viktor's skin that he may have already assumed the life-sized double had vanished, sick of being ignored—
When Viktor pulls him closer he moves in easily, tucking their joined hands between them to get a little warmth back in those fingers. The momentary awkwardness of holding hands ebbs away as he turns to start them down the quickest path back home, through the fewest beast-tempting zones. It's not utilitarian, or businesslike, but something else entirely - something that hums in his chest, louder when Viktor tries to offer him an apology meal and tugs at his heartstrings.]
No. But not tonight; I had my sandwich, and I'm going to make you rest. As long as... he's still dogging your heels, you aren't out of the woods yet. Have you eaten?
[He can make a sandwich? Maybe some cold cereal?]
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[sweet, is another and he's not going to say it even if he thinks it. maybe it's implied in how he trails off. he follows without complaint, eyes ahead instead of to the mimic that follows in a mockery of his own limping gait, as if it leans on a crutch that isn't even there. it's easier to ignore it and focus on pal's hand in his, or watching him from the corner of his eye as they move and pal fusses.
there's a few things on the tip of his tongue. i can take care of myself is a classic, one he's used on jayce and even sky several times over, a good way to scare off well meaning concern. i'm fine is a standby for many in this place, he'd imagine, pal included. pal especially, maybe, if he's lived by himself in his quiet little bunker meant for two people this long. that one never flies anyway regardless of who says it, not in a place where no one is really fine at any point without a lot of compartmentalizing and a splash of denial.]
No. [he settles for the truth, because he doesn't really remember when he last ate in the mad rush of things and he has the distinct feeling the moonlight is the only reason he doesn't feel markedly worse for that fact.] You can... you can subject me to what you've been forced to make for yourself. A fitting punishment.
[again, at least an attempt at dry. they're still just casually holding hands and that is something he can't remember ever doing before outside of being a child. even jayce and all his tendency to physical affection would lead him by the elbow at best. he thinks he should find this childish but his grip tightens regardless as they get closer to home.]
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Punishment for self-care crimes? Maybe for ignoring my questions.
[Leaving him on read... the cruelest. Viktor can call it punishment all he likes, Palamedes thinks, as he believes he's made it fundamentally clear that it's all in the name of taking care of Viktor's silver doppelganger problem and seeing that he's well, if not in so many words. He'll make a sandwich; Viktor will eat a sandwich, and step... two-ish will be complete. Easy.
He's wondering if the rest will be easy, keeping the silver off Viktor and the double at bay, but Viktor's grip on his hand helps with that even before he really gets the thought going. There's going to be— there's no way he can think his next thought that doesn't sound at least a smidge awkward, but with the double still persistently plodding along behind them, there's going to be more touch involved, as per the working theory. Viktor's clutch onto his hand is some modicum of acceptance of that, he thinks, which is - good. That's good.
But the sandwiches can come first. The walk to the bunker feels more urgent the closer they get, and Palamedes has to resist looking at the double every few paces to see what it's doing now, if it looks any less solid, if it's looking back at them. Once inside the bunker he steers Viktor to the couch rather than the uncomfortable kitchen chairs, eyeing the double warily as he lets go his hand - and turns to go make a sandwich.
In fairness: it's less a sandwich and more two pieces of bread with some jam in between, do not perceive him, but it's food and it tastes good, and he brings it over on a napkin instead of a plate because that is just the life he's living. Here; eat of his sandwich and be well. He sits, and if he's staring intently at Viktor to see how much silver has come back in the handful of minutes he spent slapping jam onto bread, well.
Yes, he is doing that. That is what it is.]
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I am sorry about that. [he tries, and hence accepting food as the ultimate punishment apparently. or at least offering an attempt to reign in his own stubbornness and conceding that pal can and is going to help. the second he sees any hint of the tether shifting to pal he'd panic, of course, but for now...
in some ways it feels like a blink and they're there, plopped on the couch as his double sits across from him on nothing like an absurd, unnerving mime. losing pal's touch doesn't immediately bring any silver back, it isn't until he focuses on staring at his mimic that it starts to creep up again like a punishment for the world's most unsettling staredown.
he lets go of his crutch where he had been holding it tightly, letting it rest against the nearby wall to take the sandwich.] I have notes, somewhere... observations. They can move through solid matter to stay with their target, they will break their mimicry in small ways to course correct and remain in eyeshot if possible. Any harm done to them is reflected on the user, they repel water and presumably other liquids.
[eat the sandwich pal slaved over a hot bottle of jam for. he does take a bite, and some of that silver that creeped back up recedes with the fact pal make food for him, of all the stupid little things.
he's slowly chewing his first bite and regarding the sandwich like it holds some mystery, because it does, in a way. of all the things they've done, of all the little moments and vocal affirmations, this is the one that finally strikes something in him. maybe it's the undercity in him, food and offering it always had a different connotation when food was largely scarce. maybe it's being too worn down for mental gymnastics, maybe it's a lot of things but when he glances at pal he finally thinks back to pal cupping his jaw and what the next logical step often was with such an action.
oh.
his eyes go back to the sandwich, heart rate picking up but not exactly surprised. oh. he closes his eyes and struggles with what happened with information like this. he didn't get 'crushes,' he could recognize when someone was attractive and appreciate that fact, he could understand the lure of wanting to spend time with someone for their personality but a draw that comes from such a deeply vulnerable place is-
he takes another bite of his sandwich like a stalling tactic. pal got him fruit he never tried before the first time he came over, and he wonders if that isn't where this started. the talks before even? their ridiculous little heist that holds a special place in his heart.]
T-thank you. [he does manage eventually, trying to go with compartmentalizing as a tactic to deal with the sudden onslaught of information and everything he currently needs to re-establish ie their interactions. he needs charts for this.
what this does on a tether is probably a bit odd, a sort of faded quality to some of it's edges but a sharpness in other areas. a rollercoaster one way or another.]
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Harm?
[Hello? Harm done do it? What's been happening for three days, sir. But he holds up a hand, like, don't answer him; eat the sandwich. He can wait, and he will, the intensity of his gray-eyed stare softening the longer Viktor just, well. Eats a sandwich. He's eyeballing the progress and recession of the silver with impatience, as if staring it down will make it go faster.
Viktor thanks him for the jam sandwich, and Palamedes hums in vague assent, enjoy the sandwich— more importantly, the silver on the back of Viktor's neck is problematic in a way he can't sit and just look at any longer. He tilts toward Viktor, hand raised and hesitating only momentarily (like, he is interrupting dinner, here) before he sets his fingertips on the back of Viktor's neck carefully, like the silver makes him delicate.
It does, in a way; after three days of wondering and then the hopeless way Viktor looked at him at the docks, Palamedes can't help the swell of emotions that burns beneath his ribs. There's a buzzing anxiety at the forefront, of course, and a relief, and an affection that burns brighter than the rest— his hand on Viktor's neck is as much a reassurance for himself as anything else. That's something he'll think about later, he decides. Right now he's concerned with the physical - Viktor, warm, real. Not turning into metal, which—
The tether— whatever it does gets a glance out of him, on edge like he might have to chuck a lumpy couch pillow at it in a second, but - no, it's? That's a response, indeed.]
Sorry, [he says, for lack of anything better to say. He doesn't pull back his hand.] How do you feel?
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no. another bite. a crooked smile, weak but present as he answers,] I may have gotten annoyed and given it a little whack. Just earned a bump on the arm for my trouble.
[he should have just messaged pal then, he accepts that much. he's still a bit unsure about this but thus far they're safe, the tether hasn't grown teeth or reattached or... whatever it does. annoy him personally, he thinks. corrupt him, more likely. that did seem to be a running theme, and he quells a spike of nerves at the thought of turning into something that could hurt pal.
no, that won't help things. he knows enough about corruption to know it's just make things worse.
he does a good job of burying it along with several pal related thoughts, up until pal's touching him again. he looks over with a touch of surprise, cursing whatever damn god or pthumerian is making this happen because really, pal keeps looking at him like that and viktor can't see how the silver just keeps receding the more he's touched, the more he reads such a sincere concern in pal's gaze it aches.]
Fine- better. Ah- [he scrambles for something, glancing over to where the tether seems more and more faded out, a lingering shadow rather than a solid threat.] So... touch is the key to this? It's diminishing based off your- based off contact, it seems.
Wonderful, if that's the case I really did make quite an ass of myself running off. [he's not blushing about any of this, you are. he can handle being touched by his newfound infatuation. god, why couldn't it be simple attraction? that is so much easier, it's all the tangle of feelings involved that have him scrambling on what to do. attraction he could just accept then dismiss, maybe make an offer if he's feeling bold and accept whatever outcome came from it.
this? it shouldn't be anymore complicated but it truly is.]
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[Could he, in theory, absolutely wreck a person for Doing Harm to someone he cares about? Yes, it would not even be hard — but he's not going to pretend he's got anything going for him without the element of surprise. So, lucky: not having to go on the warpath.
He watches the silver creep back down, following it just so with his fingertips - but not too far. He's aware of what he's doing here, he's not completely out of touch with reality while he runs his fingers all over Viktor, but the silver is one hell of an excuse for this arguably inappropriate behavior. He hums, nodding, running his thumb along a stripe of silver and watching it shrink.]
You did. [Like, that's true, he's comfortable enough in Viktor's overall safety to say that now.] I was— You scared me, you know.
[Not an accusation; just a murmur, as his mess of emotions solidifies into a thing that wants to come out in pieces, it seems. Viktor was an ass, Palamedes was scared, Palamedes was also bull-headed and stubborn and he's still feeling those things, too, admittedly-
He sighs, managing a small smile.]
Finish your sandwich. Do you still want to talk about legacy? Or...
[Will that make! it! worse!]
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[that should be said with humor but he damns himself, his tone going soft. (the tether shuddering minutely, lesser.) he doesn't know how to thank something like that other than making an earnest effort to finish off half of the sandwich, which he does after a few more bites. he can't say he has much of an appetite but it helps regardless to get some food down. he can't bring himself to focus on it any longer when pal is still touching him and he's trying not to shiver and give himself away.
he wonders if there is an ethical issue here, should he say 'you are touching someone who just realized he very much could kiss you right now, does that change your comfort with the situation?' just check it off like a list of requirements for said touching to even be allowed. it probably made their living together questionable too, which really, his own damn feelings couldn't let him have any nice things?
a shame they couldn't be switched off like a well oiled machine, which is a passing thought that might be a harbinger for troubles to come, though here it's met with a humorless smile as he places the other half of the sandwich to the side.]
I hope you understand I wasn't- it was not a matter of trust. Foolishness, yes, but I simply did not wish to subject you to any of it. You... you deserve better.
[he can't even sound awkward, just a little resigned, a soft chuckle at pal's insistence. he pulls off another piece of it at least, trying not to be too obvious in how he leans back into pal's hand.] Morose nonsense. Regrets for a world I am not longer a part of. [he tries to dismiss.] The only use for those failures is to learn better for our time here, not living out the same pointless tragedies again and again.
Eh, sorry... I think despite knowing better I still struggle with putting a firm line between this life and where I was before. I'm sure all sleepers do at some point.
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Messy, and extreme, but in the deep-seated way of the Nine Houses, so intrinsically linking devotion and violence. So he can say if it came to that with the slightest hint of a crooked grin, like it's almost a joke, and beyond that he can simply let it be what it is: being, hm, personally invested. He thinks of Viktor's admission outside The Red, about showing him what the Sixth couldn't, and resolves that, yes— here is a person he would go to great lengths to protect.]
I— hmm. [He makes a face; how does he articulate that he wants, actually, to be subjected to it? That the depths of how much he cares for Viktor don't stop just above the silent tether still sitting half-formed across from them. He doesn't know; he says,] I wish you would have said something.
[—and that's that on that, more or less. Viktor leans into his hand - kind of hard to be subtle about that one, bud - and Palamedes splays his fingers out accommodatingly, palm flat and fingertips high enough to reach the ends of his hair. This he thinks about for a long couple seconds, then remembers to focus.]
Some more than others, [he offers; he can look back at his own life and put a pin in each moment where one of those lines should be drawn, but that doesn't mean he's immune to thinking about things he'd have liked to accomplish before, or whatever else.]
I think if we're supposed to be guilty for ever thinking like that, you ought to lock me up as soon as possible. Let me keep my books.
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he can't bring himself to do more than focus on the piece of sandwich in his hand, letting the warmth of pal's fingers ease some deep ache rather than feed into how much he is allowed to enjoy that. the silver has vanished from anywhere visible now, perhaps off his skin entirely. he still feels a faint chill down his back, under his makeshift brace, but it too is receding to a gentle warmth.]
... I'll say something, next time. [because there will probably be a next time, one way or another. he turns his head to regard pal.] If you'll let me have your back as well. Equivalent exchange.
[incredible bullshit, though the sentiment in general is there and strong. strong enough he even gives into sentiment to say,] I'd have it anyway, whether you agree or not. But an agreement would make things easier.
[a glance to the tether and he can see it all but crumbled where it sits, a state of decay without the actual rot, a little on the nose given the state of his life but he choses to see it as the dying of something he's needed to cut out of himself anyway. the way it's faded now makes it difficult to tell who it's staring at anymore, and when viktor raises a hand it follows shakily.]
In truth it's for the best, I think. To let go of everything of our old worlds would be denying ourselves something integral. When I moved to Piltover it would have been easier to do that, let go of everything the undercity made of me, but I would have been greatly lesser for.
[he moves his raised hand to rest on pal's arm, around his elbow, the one still at his neck. he watches his tether touch something that isn't there and feels the oddest sympathy for the briefest moments before his attention and gaze turns to pal again.] For what it's worth I'd sneak you any books you'd like, if you were locked up for such crimes. [more for what it's worth he's glad pal lets himself be who he is, regrets and all.]
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Equivalent exchange. You don't have to strongarm me; I'm agreeing.
[Now he manages the whole grin, like the suggestion he wouldn't agree is the joke, here. Viktor getting into danger because of him is obviously less than ideal? Still, he's always been prone to dramatic declarations of trust and working together, so in some ways this feels... inevitable, in a comfortable way.
The inevitable danger not so much... they'll deal with that when it comes.]
I don't disagree, [he says, looking over at the tether and what's become of it for a moment before his focus swings back to Viktor. Much as he's glad to see it go, there is something viscerally unsettling about watching a Viktor-shaped thing crumble in real time. Eugh.] I couldn't stop being Sixth if I tried.
[He shrugs; he can and has angrily denied some other bizarre, garbage aspects of the Nine Houses just these past few weeks alone, but the Sixth? Being a necromancer, with a cavalier? Some things are simply integral, indeed.
After a moment he shifts to sink back into the couch, just kind of- assuming Viktor will lean back with him, ahem. The tether is on its last, er, silver bits, Viktor has eaten his sandwich; they're entitled to a moment of peace.]
Thanks; I'll dedicate my prison novel to you. [Hmm. A beat.] It's easier to sublimate regret into nostalgia, isn't it? I could paint over the ugly parts and say, no; this me is the freshly improved version, ignore the rest... but the ugly parts would still be there.
[Truth, solace, etc. Maybe he's looked at the tether for too long.]
Well. You know?
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well, he's learned something at least. he doesn't think he'll leave pal on read again, so that's a start.
he's happy to settle back with a sigh, keeping his hand on pal's arm for the moment, using the last of the tether as his excuse despite knowing better now. the chill is gone, he thinks if he checked there wouldn't be a scrap of silver on him. he focuses on pal's words instead of that glaring fact.]
I know. [morose but sometimes even morose things were very much true.] I've done as much already here, grand plans to make better on mistakes I've made, pretending the ugly bits of them are now easy to locate and conquer with perspective and logic.
And yet I still ran off again to the docks rather than accept the chance of hurting people is simply a part of companionship. The eh... the character growth could use a little work.
[he offers a faint smile, and with it the tether fades entirely. viktor glances to where it was, swallowing but keeping his hand against pal's elbow for just a beat too long before he reluctantly pulls it away.]
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So, the morose.]
There's always next time. [He considers.] I'd been— before, you know, my problem with the sea monster, I'd been waiting around to go back home, I think. Camilla was here, and I suppose something gave me the arrogance to not take the reality of this place seriously.
[None of which is something he's actually put into words until now, out loud where someone can hear it, so - appreciate that. He knows better now.]
I don't like that, I don't know what I was thinking, but it's not as if I can pretend it didn't happen. As a fellow work in progress: we're doing a mediocre job of it.
[This is, for all intents and purposes, a compliment. A mutual one. Endure him.
—and oh! There goes the tether, out like somebody turned off its lights. Palamedes blinks at the space where it'd been, then,] But like I said; I tend to win.
[zing]
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he's no longer cold down to his bones, and he can just nod to that, curling a little so he can face pal better, shifting to find a spot that doesn't have either brace digging in.]
The cruelest aspect of this place is the understanding even when we wake up of our new reality, that... knowing deep down. We deserve the chance to thrash against it, to try and shape it around until it slots naturally. I wouldn't call it arrogance so much as rebellion, the right to react irrationally against all this blasted rationality and change.
Hm... though maybe that's just the messy humanity in me. [he closes his eyes a moment, a little surprised at how comfortable he is when typically his body is a myriad of aches.] I want so badly to do good here. Do you think it's possible, in so nebulous a place?
[of course pal claiming a victory makes him chuckle and open his eyes again. oh if only he had jayce's bravery with all the casual touch, he wants to reach over and squeeze his shoulder or just... anything.
instead he offers,] Thank you. Really. I don't think I would have lasted much longer.
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Rebellion has better aim than I do. I think you're right— really. But you know me; I need to know precisely where to put the pieces together from the start.
[Which makes him just as messy as anyone else, just tilted in the other direction. If he had the answer, if he knew all the theorems to pluck at to understand the truth of this place from its Powers that Be all the way down to the blood in their veins, he would feel - better. It still chafes to think of waking up after five apparent weeks of squid darkness, without an ounce of control over it.
But that's too in his head. Emotionally, like a proper messy human, Palamedes believes Viktor has a point - and the question makes him raise an eyebrow, bumping his knee into Viktor's thigh, like, really? Sir.]
For you, with that mind of yours? Absolutely. You will. You aren't nebulous.
[He looks away for a beat, not wanting to dwell much on the possibility that the tether could have - gotten Viktor, whatever that would have looked like. There's no way of knowing, but in a place like this, it's always safer to err on the side of caution. He doesn't know what to say to it that he hasn't already said - he's here, it was terrifying, he'd love for it to never happen again - all of those would simply be repeating himself, so.
In place of the non-repetitive words he doesn't have, he sits up straighter to face Viktor and hold out his arms. Come give him a hug for being alive and not metal, goddamn.]
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[maybe that is why everything is so unstable. but yes, in a way it breaks his heart to imagine the time after camilla left and pal stuck without even the small comfort understanding what it all really meant. just there and gone, human formed than a squid in the ocean- than a squid himself. why any of it, why called here, what purpose.
it really is a maddening road to go down, one he lets drift to snort softly at the knee bumping his thigh.]
I am very much so, or at least passive. It was my greatest sin back home, playing by their rules and hoping I'd one day be let off my leash. ... ha, waiting for permission to change the world.
[at least that is a lesson he's trying to learn well, though he's aware the next extreme of being too active and meddling where he should not is a distinct possibility. he'd rather lean towards that than being passive again, ever again. just as back home all he needs is time.
of course pal is spreading his arms like that and viktor... well, he's too tired to start wondering if he's somehow an evil creature for hugging someone he's very much developing feelings for without their knowing. meaning he can be perfectly platonic about this, he can, only that beat of hesitation before he shifts so he can wrap around pal.
well. maybe purely platonic is impossible, but it can just be a rush of gratitude as he holds him, a rattling sigh like the last of the ice dissipating with it.
he's going to need to tell him, to say something, maybe when they have both had time to rest and emotions aren't running so high. he can't keep being passive in his own life, in his work, he promised himself that and it pertains to here too. the worst that could happen is hurting, and they all already hurt plenty, for far worse reasons.]
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So, in that case. What now.]
Pretending it's all going to make sense is a fool's errand; there's something here, it just has to be approached in the correct way. If the rules work differently depending on the angle, or the individual— I don't know; so be it? It's what we have to go on.
[So a new strategy, that should be the plan. A new perspective, working within the rules he knows but without adhering to them so rigidly that he snaps and is left drifting. It aligns perfectly well with their plan to push the limits of the bloodstones with off-world magic, he thinks.
And, well. There's plenty he could say to Viktor being, ah, left off the leash here? But half of it feels like platitudes and the other half he puts a pin in, because Viktor leans into his offered embrace and that's that on thinking about anything else, for the moment. Palamedes pulls him in and holds tight, like Viktor will simply evaporate if he doesn't, like a man on the verge of falling with only this to keep him steady. It's only meant to be a few seconds, a perfectly normal hug like the sort anyone might give after nearly losing someone precious to a weird, silvery copy of themselves - earnest.
But it's the sigh that slots the last piece into place, for Palamedes. Something in the emotion it carries, in the way he can feel it up close that rearranges the data points in the correct order to form a new thing, and he thinks— ah. The half-certain something that's knocked around in the back of his mind since The Red, since all of that night but particularly just standing outside the big, stupid octopus - that thing settles into a shape, and ah, okay.
He knows this: it feels comfortable, safe, to sit here like this, and he will never look at Viktor the same way again. Not as heavy as it sounds, not really, and he gives Viktor one last earnest squeeze to excise all his errant relief before pulling back enough to look at him. Hm.]
Luckily for you, none of us have to answer to anything here. [well.] Aside from, say, ethics.
["do whatever you want forever" --palamedes]
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When you're feeling particularly generous you can even call it exciting. [a touch dry but not entirely untrue, he thinks. there is something to standing at the start of some great understanding, when the possibilities still feel endless. it wears you down quickly but it has its moments.
with the hug over viktor offers a crooked sort of smile, a final squeeze of pal's arm with his hand before he's flopping back again. maybe before he'd make some kind of joke, about never being much of a hugger before pal, but there's too much rolling in his mind about that for it to feel appropriate.]
No fundraisers, no galas, no council breathing down our necks- maybe we actually are in the superior world. [a joke. sort of. sort of a joke. he'll admit, he does miss funding, that was nice when they actually got their hands on it.] No... Oversight Body, was it?
It does put a lot more responsibility on not pushing where we should not, I suppose.
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[No, they almost certainly do, but this is still a joke. The freedom of being unfettered by all of the... song and dance of convincing other people that progress should be allowed to happen is appealing, he agrees with that. Perhaps if not for the blood pollution, and the beasts, and the corruption...
Well, this world isn't completely terrible all the way down. For one thing, he has this bunker. There's even a chalkboard in it!]
The Oversight Body exists to give me migraines, I'm sure of it. Did you know they rejected my suggestion that we could update our maintenance system? No, I'd rather have promising research and a dozen lists.
[And while their projects might not yet be anything but a dozen lists and a gleam in the eye, it does feel exciting. It also feels like he isn't the Master Warden in this town, and Viktor isn't a famous inventor, and they are just two guys who live in a bunker, so-
Real jobs. He's considering real jobs, if for nothing else than for the networking. The obvious choice is to make nice with the Arcane Scholars, but research is easy - he can hardly go a week without someone throwing all of their theories and notes in his face. Rather:]
I've been thinking about throwing my hat in with the blood ministers. Really hate the name, now that I've said it out loud— but it's been ages since I've had a practical education. [well, besides Canaan House's creepy basement, but he's not counting that.] What do you think?
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his face scrunches in distaste hearing about the maintenance thing. like really.] Was it a matter of 'resources used in more appropriate areas' or stubborn tenacity that the old system worked fine? I hate both, in case you were wondering.
[talking like this makes him think of their first meeting, the easy back and forth that just built up with all the endless possibilities between their ideas. he knows even then he recognized something special, because for the first time since being here- since jayce's drifting further away even- he felt that inspiration that comes from proper collaboration with someone who could keep up. more so, someone who pushed.
his lips quirk like a private joke to himself, gods he is going to be unbearable if talking about oversight bodies and funding is enough to get him thinking sentimental nonsense, before considering the blood minister possibility seriously for a moment.
he barely needs a moment really. the answer is an obvious one.] I think you should- in fact I think it's an excellent idea. You already have a strong basis, and to be entirely honest I've found my one trip to the Lumenwood unhelpful. It would be good to have someone more thorough.
[sorry, npc blood ministers.] Also I think something more active that research would suit you. You are eh... a man of action, one could say? At least I believe so.
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And I'd say a bit of both. One day I'd like to meet whoever came up with the Oversight Body and give them a generous kick in the ass.
[Viktor can help with this, too, if only in the 'talking shit about the Oversight Body' department. Palamedes twists sideways on the couch, leaning his elbows back on the lumpy arm of it, to further consider Real Jobs.
First of all, this is flattery— like, he won't object, but it is. Somewhere in the squid sea Camilla is rolling her eyes, but Palamedes enjoys it; he will add 'man of action' and 'clearly better (more thorough) than local practitioners, possibly best even' to his list of reasons to investigate the blood ministering practice more.]
I'm going to introduce myself like that from now on. Master Warden of the Sixth, subtitle: man of action. [well, a light tease, but his smile is genuine.] You were talking about wanting to do good here; so do I. As wildly off-putting as Lumenwood is, [with the blood mist, gross] it's worth seizing the opportunity.
[And also... blood ministers do come into a lot of, ah, loose blood... if perhaps he made blood healing into a work study of what the different bloods are best suited for, well, even better for the bloodstone project (tm).
Regardless, it feels good to be proactive— and without the threat of looming sea monster, like his last attempt to get ahead of Trench's many problems. It's, ha, actionable, and he's grateful to have Viktor's support to lean on, when he needs to. Hm; that's sentimental, definitely. It's sentimental whenever Palamedes feels a desperate rush of gratitude for a friend, but it being Viktor adds another layer automatically, now.
Hmm!]
Of course, I'll still have no sense of what makes a reasonable lab hour, so that isn't going to change. [haha. yeah.]
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but regardless, he snorts softly at the expense of the oversight body.] I don't know how you do it, getting that involved with all the minutiae of bureaucracy. You are a far stronger man than I for suffering through it for the greater good.
[ah, he gets an eyeroll, fond despite himself as he says,] Do not forget to inform people how humble you are as well, they may forget. [a touch dry, and that bit about wanting to do good makes him nod in understanding.]
Legacy. [back to that again, but kinder this time.] I think the best legacy anyone can have is leaving the world a better, easier place than when they started.
Besides, if you do become a blood minister I can pester you endlessly about my purification research. Imagine, you thought you had seen how many questions I can throw at you but now with two relevant studies? [he gestures vaguely, like the sky is truly the limit now.] Truly unbearable.
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You'll have to tell me that whole story one of these days. I never got to blow anything up that wasn't osseous, and even then, conservation of resources.
[Necromancy is normal.]
In any case, I like to think of it as the Oversight Body having to suffer me. They should have known better when they let me sit the exams; I've always had a gift for making everything my problem.
[And for humility, obviously, which he answers with a shrug and a grin he only kind of attempts to hide by looking down, taking his glasses off to fuss at the lenses. Hm, yes, never has there been a humbler Warden. Fiddling with his specs gives him a chance to recenter on the serious thing: legacies, and the whole point of them. Surprisingly easy to balance with the idea that waiting until tomorrow- or until they have permission, as it were- will be too late, for a topic that lives soundly in the future.]
I think you're right about that. The work is never done, is it? As it was written in time immemorial, giving up is for suckers. [Which he could probably say in a way that isn't a joke, given a minute, but he cares more about laughing and sinking down some in his new sideways couch position to bump Viktor with his knee again, for that one.]
Make an appointment; bring a list. What kind of maniac brings their work home? [A pause, for full effect. He sticks his glasses back on, belatedly.] Whatever I learn that could help, you'll be the first to know.
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which speaking of,] And I would like to hear about a time blowing up bones of any sort was the solution to something in your life. [necromancy is weird, sorry.
the idea of pal being a terror to the board is a pleasant one, it makes him think of heimendinger having to deal with pal and that is wonderful. he really does care about the professor, promise, just he can't help but root for the one actually moving things forward.]
We would all loathe it if the work was done. [a shrug. he would, at least.] Just better if the work was less eh... dire each time. Less time fixing, more time creating.
[ah just more watching pal fondly, glancing away before he gives himself completely away like a fool by watching him laugh so softly.] That sounds like a challenge, how can I slip work into casual home conversation without you realizing I've done so? I am up for that task.
[his attention returns to pal, a touch more serious this time and a beat before he says,] I'd also appreciate keeping an ear out for anything or anyone who can help with my illness. I think it is time to be more proactive than I have been on that front. [wow a two shot here of actually talking about it because he trusts pal and the far gayer 'i want to make sure we have more time together' reason.]
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[Necromancy is Weird.]
I'll hold you to this one, though. I'm committing it to memory: 'the one where the office exploded.' Just wait; I'll derail the next time you're trying to teach me to cook something with lots of steps.
[This is a warning. He will be a terror during cooking lessons, too. Call it making them even for Viktor subtly asking him about work, which he will surely do with flying colors. Speaking of work, though, and dire work in particular - he softens when the topic shifts to Viktor's illness, nodding.]
There's some work I could stand to see done, [he says, because, well, yeah? That speaks for itself, he thinks. He tips his head back and squints at the ceiling, lifting his hands to Gesture in the absence of looking at Viktor properly. Endure this.]
I've been thinking about that— well, it goes without saying that if I'm going to harangue the blood ministers for work and training, I can harangue them about one more thing. Has it gotten any worse, since you awoke here? Corruption marches on in all of us, but I wonder if the addition of blood magic impacts the progression of certain conditions. You did say you feel better at night.
[Or Long April Night, same thing. Do the preexisting conditions of a Sleeper remain in stasis, that's the question; Viktor was not cured of his illness upon waking, and while Palamedes doesn't know enough specifics about it to predict anything with certainty, he'd have... expected more than the errant wet cough.]
If I could offer you something to make it easier, I would. [But necromancy, again, is weird.] I'll keep thinking.
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