[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.
Let me rephrase, anytime blowing up bones just happened to be the outcome of a series of events. [frankly that kind of story sounds just as fun if not better, so works for him.]
An office and an apartment. I had nothing to do with the latter. [he corrects.] I can multitask and you have an excellent memory, it seems. Try your worst.
[their dinner is going to regret that but here we are. he still can't believe he's the one who knows how to cook out of most of the people he knows, it seems laughable and maybe a little sad how bad the others are. still, if pal can put fruit in a bowl and make a jam sandwich there's clearly room to grow. probably.
pal's question has him frown as he considers, carefully going over his own mental catalogue of his condition throughout the month he's been here. there's a part of him that still wonders if this is a lot to put on pal given his vague history with ill friends but he is trying on the open and honest front despite himself.]
Worse...? Hm. When there was still a day I didn't notice any change, and this month's night has made me feel stronger. There was- I only came face to face with a beast once, shortly after an attack, and I cannot say if the presence of it or my own panic made it worse but I certainly had an adverse reaction and fell right back into a fit.
That would be the only time I would say anything got 'worse.' [he answers with a helpless shrug.] If I start using bloodmagic more regularly I will keep an eye out regardless.
[ah, that earnestness. he glances to where the tether once sat and says,] I know you would.
[RIP to this dinner in particular, a victim to shitloads of questions and also story time. Palamedes sits back up and flashes him a quick grin in one movement, hunching forward to lean an elbow on his knee and listen carefully while Viktor, ah, explains. This is a thing that requires him to not be staring at the ceiling any longer, mmph-
He doesn't know what to do with the information besides file it away under useful-to-know. Daring to consider it a good sign is a sucker's game, he knows - and yet part of him does anyway, involuntarily, borne on runaway hope that Viktor will just wake up one day and not cough ever again. Palamedes would not even demand and explanation (not that he wouldn't be curious, but the point of the thing). An illness that doesn't worsen should at least imply more time, although it raises plenty of implications about the transition of their bodies from home, to squid, to now.
He glances across the room to the kitchen table, which sports a small stack of books and notebooks, as always. Should he write this down? No; he'll remember. Actually-]
Do you keep a log? Out of curiosity. [might be handy,] And remind me, about palebloods: is it the night or the moon, specifically? I'm sure we could find one of those lunar orbs to keep around. I know a metal box with no windows isn't the most comfortable place to live.
[Like, he can admit this. It's true. Time to get some moon lamps, perhaps...]
[this is why viktor sticks to just slow cooking something and ignoring it most of the day. maybe they'll be lucky and it will be a recipe that can handle a little fucking around.
given he's been trying to find more interesting things to offer for completely straight and platonic reasons then probably not.
all of pal's natural movement reminds him to move a little, this time to sit up so he can unfasten his knee brace. they're staying in for the rest of the evening, or at least he is, so might as well get the thing off and to the side, a series of untwisting and unfastening like dealing with a second skin. a more janky one given trench materials but same basic dance, different day.]
Only a mental one, I wasn't sure how easy it would be to get paper. I- if it would help I can translate it to paper. [he slides the brace off to put to the side of the couch with a sigh, far more intrigued by the next question posed even if it is health related.]
Hm... in truth I am not sure. I will have to ask, but if I had to guess I would say that yes, it is the moonlight itself. Our blood only changes when moonlight shines on it, not simply the dark of night. That- is a very good idea, I wonder if lunar energy could be used to help ease certain paleblood ailments.
[oh now he's all intrigued again, here we go. he does glance over, a blink to offer,] I wouldn't say no to a lunar light of some sort to test this theory but I disagree. The bunker is quite comfortable. [partially gay, partially he just... actually does like it? his tastes are questionable maybe, joke about taste in men here.]
[The movement of undoing all the parts of the brace draws his gaze, idly watching, glancing up at Viktor's face again when he speaks. Palamedes holds up a hand, like, there is no obligation here whatsoever, that's a rather personal thing to write down so he can read it? He wants to help, not be weird about it.
Very nuanced; "not weird about it."]
Only if you need it. Don't worry about it on my account; it's up to you.
[But good, this other thing about the moon and palebloods; he will acquire some moon lamps. If nothing else, they can offset the whole naked lightbulbs aesthetic. He can't help the spark of fondness he feels then, Viktor's ability to so easily wander into intrigue and curiosity tugging at something in his chest. Now he wants to get the moon lamps for the potential health benefit and so Viktor can go a little starry-eyed about them and their research potential.
Good god. He's in deep, thinking about interior decorating that will make Viktor more happy and comfortable. He leans his chin in his hand, half-covering his relentlessly fond smile.]
Is it? You're turning Sixth in real time. [ha... but really,] Good, though; it's good to have you here.
[Ah, but circling back to The Work, and the cool things to do with your very own moon lamp, for the low cost of 9.95 smaller, cooler rocks--]
We can compare lunar energy responses; sit around and ponder the orb for a while and see how we feel.
I will write it. [he needs to be more serious about this and less fatalistic, less prone to thinking it's a matter he can simply handle on his own as he always has.] It will even get it's own notebook, I suppose.
[a pause and he says,] And you're welcome to read it. You are welcome to ask what you would like about my health, in fact. I admit I don't appreciate when people get too nosy about any of it so I am aware I may be blunt at times but- I know your intentions. And I trust you.
[he clears his throat, dear god. focuses on making sure his brace is settled to the side properly. soon, tomorrow maybe, when feelings settle a little more at least maybe he'll speak to pal about this... development. his own feelings taking a different shape than he expected. it would be a shame to lose their friendship but he wants to trust that pal wouldn't shun him for it, maybe at worse reject him and agree he should move out so not to cause any issues but surely still stay friends.
he nearly misses what pal says next thinking about that, glancing over with a traitorous little flutter of his heart at 'good to have you here.' focus on the orbs.]
You know one of my side projects is to see if I can get lunar energy to create a laser. [he can't help a little grin at that, because... well, science is exciting and fun sometimes?] Mostly for welding purposes, but I've needed rescue enough I sometimes think arming myself in some way wouldn't be a terrible idea.
[Ah, and that's a significant thing, he knows. Even without Viktor's admission that nosy people get under his skin, Palamedes knows the level of trust with personal information he's being given here - he appreciates it. It's lovely and saccharine to be trusted, of course, that much goes without saying; but he feels a real, hm... possibility, here? A proper chance to do something for Viktor beyond just find him some moon lamps.
Which he will still find, of course. The orbs must be pondered. But still. He makes another gesture with his hand, like, thank you for the generous opportunity...]
Thank you, and feel free to tell me to shut up at any time. [A little half-smile, brief;] You aren't a project with a list; I want you to be well.
[That bears saying out loud at least once, he thinks. Viktor's health is not a puzzle box to delight in opening, like the mystery of the orb or the bloodstones, and while Palamedes doesn't think it needs to be said, he rather thinks that it should be, for emphasis. Maybe he simply thinks Viktor should hear about his own personal value as often as possible, and maybe also the myriad ways Palamedes thinks he's intelligent, and warm, and a person he cannot stand the thought of losing, and how his cheekbones absolutely demand the tender brush of fingertips if he thinks about them for more than five seconds.
Several of those. Not in that order? He'll workshop it.
Anyway, before he says something incredibly saccharine, Viktor With a Laser becomes a real possibility, and his eyebrows shoot up at once. Oh? Yes? This sounds superb.]
I absolutely think you should carry a laser around. You have my complete support. I'll procure an extra orb for laser use only.
Ha, that is where the trust comes in. I know I can tell you when I am not in the mood for it. [viktor answers. without his brace he can pull his legs up on the couch more easily, a more comfortable and infinitely less graceful sprawl to indulge in. it's a damnably sweet thing for pal to say but more so to think of, that kind of assurance.
he nearly sighs at himself, he's in deep. and as much as he doesn't want to spoil the atmosphere he says,] I can only make assumptions based off of passing facts and comments, but... it sounds as though you've cared for an ill friend before. It is not my intention to overly burden you, or- well, if you wish to speak of it.
[he lets his head thump back on the couch, rubbing his temple and saying,] It never gets easier offering an ear, does it? No matter how often I do it sounds stilted to me once it is out.
[but! he is trying. god is he, clumsily, but with good intentions he hopes make up for that. especially for pal.
lasers are fun though, and get a soft chuckle.] Maybe I'll readapt the hexclaw then. I could make you a more physical weapon as well, you know. I know you have your wards but it doesn't hurt to be prepared.
[Palamedes blinks, then, oh; right. That. He sighs, and then can't decide between nodding or shrugging and just sort of bobs his head side to side; yes, alright, this is a fair point to bring up. The Friend from the Seventh - and that particular tragedy still stings, but still. Fair.]
Not exactly. We never met in person, although I tried to offer what I could through letters. She always took me very seriously, which was generous of her.
[But aw, Viktor. Palamedes hums around another fond smile, despite himself. To remember these old hurts is heavy, and yet something about Viktor fumbling through niceties improves matters. Palamedes reaches over to pat him on the shoulder, grateful.]
It's only me; you're fine.
[What else is there to say, he wonders; that she patiently tolerated his schoolboy-ish feelings until providing his very first proper heartbreak, some odd years ago? That makes him sound bitter about it, which he's never been. Or perhaps that she rebelled very hard against her illness and it didn't matter in the end, because that was not the thing that killed her? That necessitates too much backstory and terrible tales of what necromancers do to cavaliers and to each other, too much for this lumpy couch evening.
So. Hmm. He says,] She had far too much spirit to be born to the Seventh; she would have loved to have handfuls of lasers to wave at things.
[There, the quickest summary with the least horrifying necromancer stuff in it, very good. He tries to picture himself with an honest weapon, like, to strap to his waist or some such, and the mental image alone feels so incredibly off and silly. This is definitely a necromancer problem...]
[good to know he didn't muck it up, or at least if he did pal's being generous about it. the pat to his shoulder gets a quirk of the corner of viktor's mouth, quiet as he listens.
the concept of long distance friendships is a bit foreign to him but not unheard of, more the idea of sending letters back and forth in such a way is... sweet? the sort of thing that might happen in a novel, which he could say the same for necromancy and space ships so he suppose that makes sense. more so how else would people between two planets speak?
it does make him wonder a bit bout couriers in spaceships, which delights him but now really isn't the time for that sort of small intrigue.]
I do have to say the Seventh sounds particularly heinous in its approach. [said in a tone like he's putting that very lightly.] How did you meet? If it was never in person.
[nosy but more so he hopes that is a fond memory. if he's honest 'sick friend' hits him a little with his own experiences with rio, aside from giving him more of a picture of pal and his life.
the question of carrying makes him snort.] Depends, I could make something that attached to your arm or hand if you preferred. If you lost an arm I could easily make you a much more equipped and defensive one. [a pause.] Do not lose an arm though. [he should not even joke about that.]
[Ah yes, the Imperial Mail, a topic of great import. Palamedes could chatter on at length about The Mail and perhaps how to make it better, but maybe another time. He gives Viktor a thin, grim smile - yes, heinous is one word for it - and then... god, but it was long ago, hm-]
We're physically separated in the Nine Houses, but we can't stay out of each other's business. I was a child, and so— if I recall, I heard about the Seventh's thing about necromancers, and I wanted to know more on a whim.
[at least until somebody josses this with additional canon info]
I sent the first letter, which I'm sure comes as a total surprise.
[Haha, For Sure. As for weapons, he graciously doesn't point out that strapping something to his hand is just about the same as carrying, and instead raises an eyebrow at the concept of weaponized limbs. He's not unfamiliar with the idea, not since meeting enough colorful quasi-mechanical people around here, but - yikes.
He sits back with a sigh, so very put upon.]
And here I was going to pencil it in. I'd have lost the non-dominant one, of course, to capitalize on note-taking during the process. [A beat.] What kind of things could attach to the arm?
[The point that he could use an actual offensive weapon in his non-existent arsenal is real and good, truly. That said, almost all of his consideration of this idea is to please Viktor, ahem...]
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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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An office and an apartment. I had nothing to do with the latter. [he corrects.] I can multitask and you have an excellent memory, it seems. Try your worst.
[their dinner is going to regret that but here we are. he still can't believe he's the one who knows how to cook out of most of the people he knows, it seems laughable and maybe a little sad how bad the others are. still, if pal can put fruit in a bowl and make a jam sandwich there's clearly room to grow. probably.
pal's question has him frown as he considers, carefully going over his own mental catalogue of his condition throughout the month he's been here. there's a part of him that still wonders if this is a lot to put on pal given his vague history with ill friends but he is trying on the open and honest front despite himself.]
Worse...? Hm. When there was still a day I didn't notice any change, and this month's night has made me feel stronger. There was- I only came face to face with a beast once, shortly after an attack, and I cannot say if the presence of it or my own panic made it worse but I certainly had an adverse reaction and fell right back into a fit.
That would be the only time I would say anything got 'worse.' [he answers with a helpless shrug.] If I start using bloodmagic more regularly I will keep an eye out regardless.
[ah, that earnestness. he glances to where the tether once sat and says,] I know you would.
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[RIP to this dinner in particular, a victim to shitloads of questions and also story time. Palamedes sits back up and flashes him a quick grin in one movement, hunching forward to lean an elbow on his knee and listen carefully while Viktor, ah, explains. This is a thing that requires him to not be staring at the ceiling any longer, mmph-
He doesn't know what to do with the information besides file it away under useful-to-know. Daring to consider it a good sign is a sucker's game, he knows - and yet part of him does anyway, involuntarily, borne on runaway hope that Viktor will just wake up one day and not cough ever again. Palamedes would not even demand and explanation (not that he wouldn't be curious, but the point of the thing). An illness that doesn't worsen should at least imply more time, although it raises plenty of implications about the transition of their bodies from home, to squid, to now.
He glances across the room to the kitchen table, which sports a small stack of books and notebooks, as always. Should he write this down? No; he'll remember. Actually-]
Do you keep a log? Out of curiosity. [might be handy,] And remind me, about palebloods: is it the night or the moon, specifically? I'm sure we could find one of those lunar orbs to keep around. I know a metal box with no windows isn't the most comfortable place to live.
[Like, he can admit this. It's true. Time to get some moon lamps, perhaps...]
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given he's been trying to find more interesting things to offer for completely straight and platonic reasons then probably not.
all of pal's natural movement reminds him to move a little, this time to sit up so he can unfasten his knee brace. they're staying in for the rest of the evening, or at least he is, so might as well get the thing off and to the side, a series of untwisting and unfastening like dealing with a second skin. a more janky one given trench materials but same basic dance, different day.]
Only a mental one, I wasn't sure how easy it would be to get paper. I- if it would help I can translate it to paper. [he slides the brace off to put to the side of the couch with a sigh, far more intrigued by the next question posed even if it is health related.]
Hm... in truth I am not sure. I will have to ask, but if I had to guess I would say that yes, it is the moonlight itself. Our blood only changes when moonlight shines on it, not simply the dark of night. That- is a very good idea, I wonder if lunar energy could be used to help ease certain paleblood ailments.
[oh now he's all intrigued again, here we go. he does glance over, a blink to offer,] I wouldn't say no to a lunar light of some sort to test this theory but I disagree. The bunker is quite comfortable. [partially gay, partially he just... actually does like it? his tastes are questionable maybe, joke about taste in men here.]
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Very nuanced; "not weird about it."]
Only if you need it. Don't worry about it on my account; it's up to you.
[But good, this other thing about the moon and palebloods; he will acquire some moon lamps. If nothing else, they can offset the whole naked lightbulbs aesthetic. He can't help the spark of fondness he feels then, Viktor's ability to so easily wander into intrigue and curiosity tugging at something in his chest. Now he wants to get the moon lamps for the potential health benefit and so Viktor can go a little starry-eyed about them and their research potential.
Good god. He's in deep, thinking about interior decorating that will make Viktor more happy and comfortable. He leans his chin in his hand, half-covering his relentlessly fond smile.]
Is it? You're turning Sixth in real time. [ha... but really,] Good, though; it's good to have you here.
[Ah, but circling back to The Work, and the cool things to do with your very own moon lamp, for the low cost of 9.95 smaller, cooler rocks--]
We can compare lunar energy responses; sit around and ponder the orb for a while and see how we feel.
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[a pause and he says,] And you're welcome to read it. You are welcome to ask what you would like about my health, in fact. I admit I don't appreciate when people get too nosy about any of it so I am aware I may be blunt at times but- I know your intentions. And I trust you.
[he clears his throat, dear god. focuses on making sure his brace is settled to the side properly. soon, tomorrow maybe, when feelings settle a little more at least maybe he'll speak to pal about this... development. his own feelings taking a different shape than he expected. it would be a shame to lose their friendship but he wants to trust that pal wouldn't shun him for it, maybe at worse reject him and agree he should move out so not to cause any issues but surely still stay friends.
he nearly misses what pal says next thinking about that, glancing over with a traitorous little flutter of his heart at 'good to have you here.' focus on the orbs.]
You know one of my side projects is to see if I can get lunar energy to create a laser. [he can't help a little grin at that, because... well, science is exciting and fun sometimes?] Mostly for welding purposes, but I've needed rescue enough I sometimes think arming myself in some way wouldn't be a terrible idea.
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Which he will still find, of course. The orbs must be pondered. But still. He makes another gesture with his hand, like, thank you for the generous opportunity...]
Thank you, and feel free to tell me to shut up at any time. [A little half-smile, brief;] You aren't a project with a list; I want you to be well.
[That bears saying out loud at least once, he thinks. Viktor's health is not a puzzle box to delight in opening, like the mystery of the orb or the bloodstones, and while Palamedes doesn't think it needs to be said, he rather thinks that it should be, for emphasis. Maybe he simply thinks Viktor should hear about his own personal value as often as possible, and maybe also the myriad ways Palamedes thinks he's intelligent, and warm, and a person he cannot stand the thought of losing, and how his cheekbones absolutely demand the tender brush of fingertips if he thinks about them for more than five seconds.
Several of those. Not in that order? He'll workshop it.
Anyway, before he says something incredibly saccharine, Viktor With a Laser becomes a real possibility, and his eyebrows shoot up at once. Oh? Yes? This sounds superb.]
I absolutely think you should carry a laser around. You have my complete support. I'll procure an extra orb for laser use only.
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he nearly sighs at himself, he's in deep. and as much as he doesn't want to spoil the atmosphere he says,] I can only make assumptions based off of passing facts and comments, but... it sounds as though you've cared for an ill friend before. It is not my intention to overly burden you, or- well, if you wish to speak of it.
[he lets his head thump back on the couch, rubbing his temple and saying,] It never gets easier offering an ear, does it? No matter how often I do it sounds stilted to me once it is out.
[but! he is trying. god is he, clumsily, but with good intentions he hopes make up for that. especially for pal.
lasers are fun though, and get a soft chuckle.] Maybe I'll readapt the hexclaw then. I could make you a more physical weapon as well, you know. I know you have your wards but it doesn't hurt to be prepared.
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Not exactly. We never met in person, although I tried to offer what I could through letters. She always took me very seriously, which was generous of her.
[But aw, Viktor. Palamedes hums around another fond smile, despite himself. To remember these old hurts is heavy, and yet something about Viktor fumbling through niceties improves matters. Palamedes reaches over to pat him on the shoulder, grateful.]
It's only me; you're fine.
[What else is there to say, he wonders; that she patiently tolerated his schoolboy-ish feelings until providing his very first proper heartbreak, some odd years ago? That makes him sound bitter about it, which he's never been. Or perhaps that she rebelled very hard against her illness and it didn't matter in the end, because that was not the thing that killed her? That necessitates too much backstory and terrible tales of what necromancers do to cavaliers and to each other, too much for this lumpy couch evening.
So. Hmm. He says,] She had far too much spirit to be born to the Seventh; she would have loved to have handfuls of lasers to wave at things.
[There, the quickest summary with the least horrifying necromancer stuff in it, very good. He tries to picture himself with an honest weapon, like, to strap to his waist or some such, and the mental image alone feels so incredibly off and silly. This is definitely a necromancer problem...]
I would have to carry it around?
[but like, what if he doesn't wanna.]
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the concept of long distance friendships is a bit foreign to him but not unheard of, more the idea of sending letters back and forth in such a way is... sweet? the sort of thing that might happen in a novel, which he could say the same for necromancy and space ships so he suppose that makes sense. more so how else would people between two planets speak?
it does make him wonder a bit bout couriers in spaceships, which delights him but now really isn't the time for that sort of small intrigue.]
I do have to say the Seventh sounds particularly heinous in its approach. [said in a tone like he's putting that very lightly.] How did you meet? If it was never in person.
[nosy but more so he hopes that is a fond memory. if he's honest 'sick friend' hits him a little with his own experiences with rio, aside from giving him more of a picture of pal and his life.
the question of carrying makes him snort.] Depends, I could make something that attached to your arm or hand if you preferred. If you lost an arm I could easily make you a much more equipped and defensive one. [a pause.] Do not lose an arm though. [he should not even joke about that.]
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We're physically separated in the Nine Houses, but we can't stay out of each other's business. I was a child, and so— if I recall, I heard about the Seventh's thing about necromancers, and I wanted to know more on a whim.
[at least until somebody josses this with additional canon info]
I sent the first letter, which I'm sure comes as a total surprise.
[Haha, For Sure. As for weapons, he graciously doesn't point out that strapping something to his hand is just about the same as carrying, and instead raises an eyebrow at the concept of weaponized limbs. He's not unfamiliar with the idea, not since meeting enough colorful quasi-mechanical people around here, but - yikes.
He sits back with a sigh, so very put upon.]
And here I was going to pencil it in. I'd have lost the non-dominant one, of course, to capitalize on note-taking during the process. [A beat.] What kind of things could attach to the arm?
[The point that he could use an actual offensive weapon in his non-existent arsenal is real and good, truly. That said, almost all of his consideration of this idea is to please Viktor, ahem...]
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