[mirrors distracts him for a moment, resisting the urge to look up to the mirror right beside them. mirrors, alright, so this might be a trench thing. he remembers hearing something about avoiding them before but he chalked it up to superstition, more the fool he is.
that is a matter for another time, when he isn't wrapping around pal and resting a palm at the back of his neck. no mirrors, got it.]
Five weeks- you were a squid during that time? [he hasn't seen death up close here but that's what he's heard. the idea that death can take that long to... grow back from? is that it? sets a pit in his stomach, running a thumb idly up and down the back of pal's neck.
what do you do with that? an excellent, solid question.] For a start? What you are doing now, I think. Listen to me breath, feel my heartbeat, let it be grounding if your own body refuses to be.
[he has no idea if it will help but curled together like this everything does feel more real, cold bathroom floor and pal's tears on his shoulder.] Oh, I could argue who is lucky here. If you'd like to share the title I'll allow it this once. [he turns his head, a soft sigh against pal's hair.] I am very glad you called me.
Edited (html i swan to john) 2022-04-30 03:19 (UTC)
[Oh, so they both have the "immediately look at the mirror actually" impulse, good to know. Palamedes would have to tackle him if he tried to go see the mirror, so this is - better. He makes a low noise, affirming that yes, allegedly he was a squid that whole time. He can't be entirely sure, as squid-awareness and proper human awareness barely overlap, but that is what seems to be the case.
Five weeks, the number, doesn't bother him (besides that it does; he's still trying even now to put it back in the box). It's the feeling he sometimes gets, the way a body feels before a person falls asleep— like parts of him are there-but-not-entirely, like someone's turned off a switch. So.
Well, it's easy to curl tighter into Viktor's arms, to do all these things, to center himself on the timbre of his voice. Viktor accepts his panicked weeping with - well, with grace, and Palamedes could and just might cry a little longer, awash in appreciation for him.]
So that I could get your shirt wet?
[Ha ha, but no, he'll remember this. He always remembers, and Viktor turning up in a heartbeat to hold him without question is pretty high on the luck meter. He takes a moment to collect himself; if he exerts nearly all of his self control, he can tamp down the crying to a mere silent drip of tears.]
I told Paul— when I came back, I told him that I wasn't going to unravel, so the absolute worst part is: now this town has made me a liar. [this is not a bit, he's offended, but still] But I suppose that was your point, wasn't it? And his. About unraveling sometimes.
Precisely. [viktor answers him with a touch of that now familiar fondness. pal's a little bit of a smartass even like this, it seems, with the trench dragging something out of him kicking and screaming.] And now we have a new and exciting perspective of the bathroom on top of it - and in all seriousness now I did not look into a mirror in the lab and end up in a troubling situation far from home.
[so yup, pal did good, sorry. his thumb keeps up its steady rhythm, up and down over the back of pal's neck to the first bump of his spine, an attempt at soothing, clockwork motion.]
Did he say something similar? I will certainly like him then, he has good sense. [not that he doubted that but still, extra points on the paul card.] I could give you the science of it, if you like. The chemical compound of a breakdown, endorphins and serotonin and all those ways the mind is just a complex and intricate machine regulating itself with your tears and trembling. I suppose that's just a fancy way of saying I think you put far too much on your own shoulders with claims like that, that you will not unravel.
Why should you not unravel sometimes anyway? I doubt you would judge any of those close to you for doing the same. [he absolutely can think of reasons- hell, he has his own reasons for sometimes doing the same, but the point is less to make guess and more to hear what pal has to say about it. walking through the process of it seems kinder than trying to drag him through to reach some end point of just accepting it.]
[Palamedes huffs; he nearly laughs, and his shoulders shake a moment like he is, but it's hard to get a proper sound out in the midst of the rest. It's something, at least, and he lets the steady course of Viktor's thumb keep him grounded at the same time.]
Paul— implied. I understood. [An awful lot of circular dancing-around-the-issue on that particular day, being the actual day Palamedes woke up from being a squid; but still: implied. He likes hearing the science, all things considered, and then it comes back down to this thing he does, that he is trying to do right now despite the Trench's mirror machinations kicking and screaming right back at him the whole way: just... not. Unraveling.
He almost says he's never had cause to unravel completely, but that's such nonsense that he gets hit with another bout of sobbing like divine punishment. Terrible. Mmph.]
It's not about— [he hiccups, which is mortifying] —judgment. Of course not. I don't- have time. There's never time.
[Never ever, not for the young Scholar or the Master Warden or whatever he should call himself now; there is only one direction, he'd told someone on the beach, and its measure is time. Damnable, stupid thing. He sniffles, shifts to press his face into the join of Viktor's neck and shoulder, circles the point some more in his thoughts. It's harder to do the more he talks instead of forcing his mind to stay reasonable, which makes him dread the next thing he says a little more:]
It's about... focus. If I stop for this whenever it suits me, it could be- likely will be- disastrous. Or it would have been. [A beat. Wry,] It's also very gross and makes me sound awful.
[Super gross, and it's earnestly not that he feels judged and artlessly tries to change the subject, but he's still grateful for Viktor doing this thing for him, so,] We don't have to stay in the bathroom. But if you let go of me I will be inconsolable, fair warning.
[viktor can't help it, any new sobs or bouts make him press a little closer for a moment, hold a little tighter. comfort is difficult but the physical seems effective enough he wouldn't dream of letting go regardless, though he supposes eventually they should move somewhere else, if only to get away from the mirror.
a matter to consider in a bit.
never enough time strikes him deeply- gods, doesn't he know it, on so many levels now. spending every moment shoving as much work in as possible, even that never feeling like quite enough. always something else to be done, always something wrong to be fixed, always problems left unattended as the work stretched on. how old was pal when he decided to put it all on his shoulders? he can't remember exactly now but he knows the answer is too young.]
And of course the more you locked away the more the pressure built, the more disastrous the fallout when you were forced to stop. Nothing left to be done but try to outrun it as well as you can manage. [he guesses, humorless.] You can stop here, in this place- you are stopped right now, and this is not so terribly disastrous, yes?
[a pause and he turns to kiss the side of pal's head, saying quietly into his ear,] Let us get up and go to the couch or bed, if only to get away from the mirror. Then I will hold you because I would very much like to do that properly and we can talk about time and focus and the fact you are here now, with me, regardless of how it sometimes feels. Is that acceptable?
[Yes, of course Viktor would understand the very pressing issue of running out of time— that doesn't make Palamedes feel better, as such, considering the weight of it, but it makes him feel more resolute. Yes, if an outside source can understand, then he hasn't wasted any of that precious time— which also makes him feel like crying some more, from relief or past failures or some combination of the two.
He considers: is he stopped here? He feels just about the same amount of restless as before, but perhaps with the points changed, a different center; he doesn't know. Something else to unpack. First—]
Bed is closer. [And he makes an herculean effort to sit up and rub his face with one hand, to look at Viktor without bursting into more messy tears for how much he cares about him, another huge effort. He manages a crooked, quasi-smile instead.] I am crying on the bathroom floor, which is- it's arguably a disaster of some magnitude. I threw my glasses in the sink.
[Feels silly, now. He's making the next effort to get up, in a second, but,] Being with you is the furthest thing from disastrous that I can think of.
[Hmm— okay; he nods, like, now with that sap on the table, he is ready to crawl into bed and sulk until it stops. He moves to take Viktor's hand before standing, has one horrible lurching moment where getting up after so much crying and leaving Viktor's arms is the worst thing, actually— and it passes. He sort of hovers, other hand held out too, clingy and offering help getting up at once.]
I'll get my glasses later. [the mirror is over there, do not approach,] Let's go.
[ah, there's his face, which gets cupped and kissed with a peck on his lips like an odd little reward for the reveal.] There are far worse places to cry. A public bathroom, for one. Anywhere in public, really.
[the sap gets him another kiss, this time on his forehead, before he's taking pal's hand and watching him get up, getting up himself. his knee protests heartily in retaliation for this whole bathroom floor business but it is ignored, as the mirror is ignored. curiosity is a hell of a drug but palamedes needing him focused is more so.
he foregoes the crutch, leans into pal instead until they get to the bunks. he considers the logistics of undoing his knee brace one handed before giving up and accepting they'll have to handle the clunky thing.] One disaster now handled. [no more bathroom floor! it's progress.
he scoots back and lies on his side, hand still in pal's as he waits for the other to join him in what is truly a far more comfortable position, knee braces and all. he makes a mental note to get the man some water when he can bear the separation, just a neat and easier checklist in his head of how one handles the physical symptoms. the rest is largely guesswork.] Better?
[That gets an honest laugh out of him, if shaky, when Viktor kisses his head.]
Good god, if I'm ever crying in a public bathroom, I'd forgive you unconditionally for pretending you don't know me.
[But yes, away to the bunks it is, following Viktor into bed and shifting in close to lean their foreheads together. He hums; yes, better, and lifts his other hand to Viktor's cheek, tracing his jaw and then his cheekbone with his fingertips.]
Better. Are you alright? [murmured; gentle concern for Viktor's leg, which he knows cannot have enjoyed being on the floor for even that handful of minutes. A fresh tear runs unchecked down the side of his nose and he simply lets it, if only because it isn't more whole-body sobbing. If the reserve of tears he's never shed is going to come anyway, it's better like this. Quietly.
And not in a public bathroom, so leagues above that horrible possibility.]
I want to explain my... focus problem, but I'll have to start from the beginning. [His lips quirk in another tiny smile, since-] Just this once, can I ask you to save your questions until the end?
Oh no worries, I would jam the door with my crutch and we would go from there. [he's got you, even if you're crying in a public bathroom. he does make a mental note about looking at mirrors in any public place for the rest of the month because dear god.
he cups pal's cheek to brush at the quieter tears with his thumb.] I am fine. [the truth, the discomfort will fade to vague discomfort then ignorable discomfort baseline, and hopefully he won't accidentally bang his brace into pal's leg. workable situation, the focus can now be on pal's focus, which has him offering a nod.]
Fine, I can contain myself this once. [he says dryly, one last sweep of his thumb before he's moving his hand from pal's jaw.] Go ahead.
Good, [he says, for public bathroom emotional support and being fine both. He pauses to think of where the beginning actually is, for all of this to make sense. Well—]
Necromancy is an unmastered thing, [he says, and allows himself one second only of private amusement that God and the various Lyctors around would be pissy at him for saying it. Ahem,] By my estimate there are infinitely many things we don't know it can do, because the accepted rules contradict a possibility, or it's— harder to prove something worked, when it's tested.
[He slips hand into Viktor's hair, running his fingers through it, blinking away the next onset of tears that wells up for this particular topic.]
At home, the dead go to the River. Not like the sea here, I can assure you, so that coincidence is mercifully not some even greater Powers That Be thinking they're funny. [fuck the sea, personally,] Souls in the River go mad, usually.
[He closes his eyes on a sigh, feels an abrupt spark of panic and opens them again— okay, even the dark behind eyelids is a little much right now, lesson learned. He frowns.]
Next point: Camilla and I went to the First to become a Lyctor. It went— wrong. People died, I died, and I will never in a million years apologize to Cam enough for that— but I'm very good at my job. In the River I built myself a room, and I stayed there, reading that god awful novel over and over, while Cam carried a piece of me around. This isn't— no one did this before me, and it worked, but the unknowns are even greater, and...
[And the unknowns are very exciting for the part of him dedicated to research, but first: the focus problem.]
I was in there for eight months and I didn't even know that. Nothing happens. Nothing- necromancy doesn't work. Nothing kept me whole except focusing on it. I couldn't do anything about it from where I was and then I woke up on the beach surrounded by corpses. I thought maybe I'd slipped into the River properly— I didn't-
[He bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head a fraction. It's been weird.]
My work didn't go as planned the second time, here. That's how I know its function is fundamentally different. You can ask questions now.
[the river, ortus mentioned it. he said he was there and viktor didn't quite understand at the time, at least putting together that there was something like an afterlife in pal's world and that he wasn't sure he wanted to think much about it and what it meant for his own world. everything so far makes sense, especially the nebulous, tricky nature of necromancy. he already has a sinking feeling about why this river is being brought up.
he steals one of pal's hands to pull it closer, rests his lips against pal's fingers as he listens. it means he can feel viktor's lips move then shut again quickly at 'I died,' maybe the swallow that follows.
there is something so distinctly horrifying about the idea of it, trapped in a room of his own making and fighting against the madness of isolation and stasis. funny, some of his first days here he was forced to talk to allen about the fear of that, like it all comes around full circle one infuriating way or another. imagining pal and all his restless energy trapped in a box feels the same as when he thinks of rio twitching on the floor of the lab, tubes creeping out of her.
he pulls pal's hand away from his lips after a few more moments, a soft breath over them.] If you stopped you would have slipped away. Yes I... can see where that is now a habit you can't easily break.
[it also answered a few things, like the first never getting much mention, like how complicated death could be- like just how terrible it must have been to lose camilla. he reaches out again to cup pal's jaw.]
I'll ask you all about Lyctors later, so be prepared for that. It goes to show you how much of a sway you have that I am refraining for the moment. [faintly dry, a quiet, weak attempt at humor.] You understood yourself and your reality enough to find a way back from death and now the rules have been rewritten. That is... infuriating, I can imagine. On top of the prolonged isolation.
[Viktor's touch is an anchor, an increasingly welcome one as he recounts the uninterrupted nothingness of the sickroom in the River. Back in winter, to go from one horrifying moment in the River where the walls might just have dissolved in a few more heartbeats to sitting on the beach in Trench, monsters under the ice and corpses in the sea— well. He'd told Harrow they could impose their own rules on the River, and so why shouldn't the River impose itself right back?
So Viktor's touch is a blessing, while he mires in the dread of being back in that room, untouched, barely real; the second time he'd woken up in Trench Gideon had all but thrown him up in the air, and Paul had sat with him, and now Viktor reaches for him in the midst of it. This time it's gratitude, not despair, that makes his throat burn and the tears flow again; Palamedes tips his head to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth, and nods. Lyctors—later.]
Flatterer, [he mumbles, wry; but yes, he is That Good, thanks for acknowledging it.] Logically, I know that I'm here. You're here, and you're spectacular and brilliant and real— thank god. Still, what did we say? Leaving everything from before behind doesn't work.
[Or: he'd love to logic his way out of this one, but the heart remembers eight months of picking at the wallpaper and logic goes out the window.
And he's angry about the sea, that too.]
I can't fix it. I've tried. Even the fucking ocean got the better of me. I'm terrified, without qualifications, [without any prepackaged quips, that is,] Now I'm crying out every drop of fluid in me for it.
It really does not. [viktor sighs, like the intricacies of the mind and all the influences of their pasts are annoyances. he finds himself wiping at pal's tears again, a vague, half formed thought of wondering if this level of 'unravelling' was something pal was capable of outside the trench's invasive magic. if he's ever cried like this before or he was always the stubborn sort.]
You know when I met Allen it was in the catacombs, where it forced us to share mortifying insecurities in order to move forward. [still hates that! even if it landed him a good friend. but the point-] This is just another example of it, whatever reality we find ourselves in thrives on making us face the world before and specifically the scars it left. We never really stood a chance of even pretending we could escape it.
[he rests their foreheads together a moment.] Then we'll take it step by step. When you feel unmoored you know you can call me, or no doubt this sensible Paul, or others. I'll hold you like this and that will help, yes? Then the reality of this place, the ocean, we'll unwind bit by bit. Our work with bloodstones is a good way to start trying to pin down how the universal system of magic here works, and from there we can better understand each facet of this reality.
[which is more than several lifetimes of work, he's sure, but it's a plan and he's always found comfort in that. if pal does he isn't sure but he wants to offer it regardless, pulling back enough to regard him properly again.] And when it's all too much at times we'll be terrified together. You... you've done enough Palamedes, surviving as you did. You do not need to shoulder so much on your own.
[Palamedes doesn't know what to do about crying, exactly - he's simply letting it happen now, though his lack of care about what happens to the tears could also just be his extreme reluctance to let go of Viktor for even a second. When he's puffy-eyed and miserable over it later, he'll rethink his choices.
Until then, the Trench is grim, but at least the people in it are worth infinitely more. He's been enjoying the company, he'd said the last time someone asked, and that holds true now, listening to Viktor logic through it for him. A plan is good, a plan is a firm place to stand, but with some haste he must interject—]
Don't do any work on the ocean. Not without me. [The ocean cannot be trusted, first of all, but more than that Palamedes vividly recalls God's own unpleasant study and his notes upon notes about the ocean, and his rambling about "cracking" it, and the way he looks at Palamedes like a thing he should already own and gets uppity when the thing says no. Viktor is too intelligent and valuable and interested in enough similar concepts to stay off the radar of anyone who knows Palamedes, and even beyond that, it's not that big a town.
No, he wouldn't like that. No, Viktor shouldn't fiddle around with the ocean unless they both are. He says,] If anyone tries to tell you I'm a valuable part of their ocean projects, they're a liar.
[And the rest of that he'll save for the Lyctor conversation, although he doesn't know how well he conveys the "not now" vibe with a face that's been crying for a while now. Later.]
Trust me, [he adds, deflating a little, brushing some of Viktor's hair back and cupping his face.] Let's leave the ocean for last.
[Ah, and that sharp turn has distracted him from the earnest sweetness in the rest of what Viktor says, though he's more than willing to sink back into that instead of - ocean studies. It would be nice— to have done enough, to spend his days now studying creepy rocks with Viktor, without the voice at the back of his mind that always seems ready to tell him that if he's decided to stop for a moment when there are still things to do, he's made the wrong choice.
Would be nice. Might even be doable, now that this place has forced him to open enough boxes and cry about it.]
I want to continue our work on the bloodstones. This feeling... I want to be busy, to stave it off. But I can do it better with you. And Paul, and the rest. At least, I want to try.
[One afternoon of weeping can't overturn all of his bad habits, but there's that work in progress again; he can put in the work. He leans in to kiss him, gratitude and warmth and some more tears, sorry, and strokes Viktor's hair again when he pulls away.]
You said 'terrified together'. Is it just the usual, [he hates that there's a "usual,"] or something else?
[there's a lot to unpack with how pal asks him to leave the ocean for last, a little furrow in viktor's brow as he tries to untangle their conversations up til this point to find something he might be missing. there's nothing that answers him satisfactorily, only the look on pal's face that clearly needs a reprieve.
trusting him is easy, easier than it has any right to be really, and viktor nods. later, when pal isn't under the influence of something horrific and has had a little more time to digest all of this anew.] I won't work on the ocean without you, I promise. We are partners, after all.
[he offers a fain quirk of his lips, hoping it's reassuring. that's easy enough to promise anyway, his interests have been more in beasthood and blood than the ocean yet, though that 'yet' is a very pointed one.]
And with all the hobbies we discussed on top of it. We'll keep busy and productive, just ah- well, I've never been good at telling when that is going too far. Telling you to rest as well seems a little hypocritical. [he huffs, nerds.] I'll still ask that you try to do so, when you can. No one deserves it more in my completely unbiased opinion.
[then he can't help a laugh, short and swallowed again quickly.] Really Palamedes, you would take a moment from your own Tench-induced 'unravelling' to ask something like that. Sweet man. [he leans in for a kiss, just more of pal's tears on his own face when he pulls back.] The usual, mostly. Also the more I build here the more terrified I am of losing it.
[At least some of the tension goes out of Palamedes when Viktor promises to leave the ocean well enough alone - for now; he breathes out and shuts his eyes, and this time no solitary panic grips his heart. His, hm, oceanic anxiety simmers somewhere below the surface, but he can work on that later, after all of this. That's an entirely separate can of terrible worms, after all.
He smiles, eyes still closed. His whole face feels clammy and blubbery from all this crying, and yet! There are still things worth smiling about.]
Partners, [he repeats, and,] Thank you, Viktor.
You could keep me honest, when it comes to getting rest. I'll do the same for you. Unbiased, of course.
[And in a pinch, either Rocky's impatience or Rio's desire for her own naps can pressure them both into sitting down and stopping, just for a time.
Palamedes moves his hand from Viktor's hair to his waist to pull him closer, endeared and enamored by his cut-off laugh like it's the greatest thing he's heard all day. This is the thing worth protecting, and all the research notes and hobbies are how to do just that. Of course he's going to pause his unravelling to ask.]
As long as I have any say in it, you'll have me. [It's a cliche, but he rather likes this one, so here it is.] Even if I'm sobbing on the floor in the Earworm bathroom. I'll do whatever it takes to stay here.
[It's much easier to defy the universe when it's for someone else, in his experience? He's got this one.]
[viktor could say something unbearably sappy about the smile but he thinks it to himself instead, simply happy to see it make a return to pal's face.] Incredibly unbiased. We're the picture of it.
[he considers adding on how he doesn't need to be thanked for this, how he should thank pal, etc. he lets it go in a quiet exhale, careful of his brace as they press closer.
one of his arms finds a place to rest over pal's waist, eyes closed and quiet for making claims he probably can't keep. it's still nice to hear, even gets a soft snort for the earworm bathroom, his other hand pressing against pal's chest like he can feel out the beat of his heart.] As will I. It's odd, I think in most ways I'd rather be here anyway.
[if presented the actual choice, which is another matter he isn't sure he wants to dwell on for very long, not when pal seems to be reaching some sort of peace and viktor can lean in to kiss him for it.]
Mm, then start by continuing to come to me like this. I- truly, the eight months alone horrifies me. How you've kept it together is a testament to your stubbornness. [he says quietly between them.] I am sorry by the way, that some horrible Trench event dragged all this out of you. I won't say I'm not glad of it in some ways but I do wish it had been on your terms.
[Palamedes considers that— being here, versus being back in, well. A room. That choice is obvious. Idly he realizes he's stopped endlessly crying, but the low hum of dread that sits in his stomach, afraid of letting go of Viktor, is still there. Well, then-]
I would make a few changes, [less torment and more Camilla, for starters,] but I think I'd rather be here, too.
[He studiously avoids thinking that's selfish of him when there were clearly things back home that needed his help, despite everything, and it takes a hefty dollop of effort, but. Hmm. He can curl his fingers in the back of Viktor's shirt and savor the feeling of lips against his, and yes, he's going to allow himself to choose not being dead in a ghost room as the better option.
Progress. He lets out a huff, halfway amused- stubborn! Wow! Maybe! Yeah.]
Don't be sorry; I think it's beginning to pass, anyway. I'd have told you all this eventually, [although perhaps with a more distinct lean towards the magic and not the, hm, unreality problem, but he's not about to give Trench any credit for the push.
He thinks for a moment, quiet.]
I kept it together in there for Camilla, and for the Ninth— and I know how it sounds, but I don't mean it as some form of- of obligation, one or the other, my thing or theirs. I didn't think I had a thing; I couldn't allow myself to conceptualize it until I got here. It turns out, I have a thing.
[Possibly even several!! He wrinkles his nose and squints, like, ew- such oversight. Terrible showing from past-Palamedes. Then he relaxes again, nudging Viktor lightly in the hip, affectionate.]
Do you want me to promise? I do; I'll come to you.
Camilla, I imagine. [that's an easy guess, and one of the few people he doesn't feel conflicted about hoping would show up. if even half of what he's heard is true she would likely want to be there anyway.] Personally I would request coffee because I am sick to death of tea in its various forms. The rest is manageable.
[ok less invasive mind events and maybe palebloods not hallucinating sometimes, also up there, but sh. he does have similar feelings of duty though, ones that have him say,] There's so much I wanted to get done for the undercity at least, but there's just as much to be done here. More, perhaps, when it comes down to it.
Of course you being here is enough to sway me either way. [disgusting sentiment said with a small smile, and he doesn't even make a quip about it.] Hm, I cannot express how glad I am we had the chance to meet, Palamedes.
[he does at least exhale in amusement at himself, maybe a little at how it's easier to say things like that and not feel some pang of needing to guard the vulnerable places uncovered by how true it is. certainly easier hushed between them.
he hums- maybe he would have told viktor but still, a big fuck you to the trench for pushing things on principle.] I understand. Sometimes moving unerringly forward is simply a matter of survival rather than denial regardless, especially if you have people relying on you in any way.
And I will gladly take that promise, thank you. Even if you just wished to be close and say nothing else I would come, you know.
Camilla, yes. And I like tea, so I'd be fine otherwise.
[Ha ha. Point, though; this place does need a helping hand, and it's disingenuous to act otherwise. Palamedes nods, for that always charming desire to help people, and kisses Viktor on the nose, for the sentiment. He's feeling an ounce or two better, if he can go in for the real gooey stuff like nose kisses.]
I can't get enough of it when you talk about philanthropy. Can't get enough of you, in general.
[Saccharine; if he weren't still kind of in a mood he'd go in for the tease, bother Viktor about expressing it in an academic paper or two - he'll remember that one for next time.
It's bittersweet in a way, to cherish that Viktor understands at the same time he wishes that he didn't, that neither of them had to think in terms of survival or unerringly forward. If only! If only. There's a part of him now that relies on Viktor, but he refuses to be shackles, so— he will get his shit together, specifically in the way that asks for support in the normal, healthy way. Good plan.] A work in progress, as always.
And you know I'm terrible at being that quiet and at keeping my hands to myself. [at all times that do not impede lab safety, ahem,] Anyway, you can do the same. I'll drop everything; give me advance notice and I'll even bring you sandwiches. Are you hungry right now?
[Like, he will actually, but he still manages to say it with a touch of humor.]
Bah, leaf water. [tea is fine, he just enjoys complaining about it whatever reason. surprisingly what he enjoys more is pal seemingly starting to recover, enough to be just as saccharine back.
he pulls his hand up from pal's chest to wipe at any errant tears, an amused exhale when pal kisses him on the nose in such a sweet way. unbelievable. he's not sure which of them is worse and he greatly enjoys that fact.] I'll remember that, perhaps whispering sweet nothings of future projects in easily available purification methods and greater means of early prevention of beasthood would rile you. All beasts cured and not hunted.
[he's happy to go for teasing there, saying it in a low tone between them as if it actually were sweet or dirty talk. shockingly he finds pal's own interest in that whole making things better thing wonderful and attractive, so it's just an endless, gay loop.
the 'hands to himself' gets a soft snort but the offer of a sandwich makes him laugh, surprised and quickly bitten off but tugging at his lips regardless.] Why do I get the distinct feeling if my stomach so much as growled you'd be up and doing so? No, I like being right here for now. My plan for the evening is to hold you as often as I possibly can.
[ridiculous, but in some way he wants to put a chip in those eight months, like with enough time and patience the feeling of touch will become so familiar it will chase away the old chill.] I promise I will call you as well. Mirrors now, is it? That is going to be annoying to avoid for however long this lasts. I am using some for the laser project but I suppose I'll just switch to focusing on other matters for the time being.
[Well, hold on, let him think about this. It's not not an idea with a lot of potential... He raises an eyebrow.]
Maybe not that particular subject, but your lecturing voice? We'd have to do a few tests. Break into another classroom, you know.
[Beast-curing is still of interest, though, so why not both. Context is everything. Making Viktor laugh like that is also everything, as totally serious as he is about the sandwiches; guilty as charged. He hums to that effect and scoots in that much closer unabashedly, to hold and be held and revel in both. He is needy, right now— but it's also a gift to have an affectionate boyfriend all evening? Speaking of lucky, yet again.]
Mirrors. I'm not sure, I think— it might just be anything shiny that poses a risk. But I avoided having another self attached to me; you might just avoid having a problem with mirrors.
[One can hope. Hmm,] Shame about the lasers, for now. Which project do I have the privilege of badgering you about in the interim?
We are going to barred from the school at this rate. [viktor's not sure he'd complain that much, at least it'd be a hell of a way to go.
when pal moves closer viktor kisses his temple with a murmured 'one moment,' sitting up to finally get his brace the heck off so when he's back down again he can tangle their legs without poking pal with uncomfortable bits of metal. the short moment sort of away gets another kiss in apology before he's wrapping around pal again, soft huffs as he makes himself comfortable.
a very good way to spend the evening.] Hm, that is true. What do you think it did, exactly? It seemed like it forced you to confront unpleasant, bottled up emotions.
[which fuck that. seemingly less deadly than his annoying him-shaped tick of before but still.] The taser project, most likely. I've had another person interested in it, I think it could be a good alternative for people uncomfortable with heavy violence, if only I can make sure it's actually effective against beasts. It won't exactly be easy to take it for. a trial run.
Well, I'd like to earn it this time, if we're going to be caught off-guard in the classroom. Think of it as a reputation to uphold.
[Ah, but there goes Viktor and his brace, and Palamedes expediently shoves both his hands under his own head to control his mirror-addled urge to interrupt. Then it's back to holding him close, making a face like, well— unpleasant. Yes. Unpleasant.]
That about does it, I think; things I wasn't planning on tackling myself without a five-step process, at least. Some parts of it are harder to shake than others.
[But Viktor wanted to hold him, so that part is working out. Fortunate that his unmanaged emotions circle around something marginally harmless, compared to like - the urge to stab everybody, or some such. Cuddling up to Viktor and listening to him talk about projects is a normal evening, essentially. Mostly. Ignoring the mirror.]
Hire a hunter to give it a whirl? There's always throwing it very hard at a beast, although that's fairly less scientific. [haha... he can't help with beast tasing, alas.] How many are you going to make?
That is true, and there would be symmetry if we tried to use petty theft as the excuse if we were caught. We could convince them we came for the chalk.
[viktor runs his fingers over that face, maybe the dips of a furrowed brow and the curve of downturned lips. mapping a potential grimace and snorting softly.] I'll warn some of the people I know regardless. That is if Allen would answer his messages. [a sigh. haha teenagers, right.
the mental image of hitting a beast in the face with a taser at least makes him smile a touch, nodding.] Not a bad idea, maybe I'll ask Jason or Todoroki when I'm sure it can be handled. I want to see how it works myself though, which complicates matters. [basically hiring a hunter to use it AND make sure he doesn't die.] Mm, just two at the moment. The supplies involved haven't been too terrible to find, it would be too difficult to make more assuming it ends up worthwhile.
Meaning if any of your flock of teenagers could use one I'd be happy to do so.
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that is a matter for another time, when he isn't wrapping around pal and resting a palm at the back of his neck. no mirrors, got it.]
Five weeks- you were a squid during that time? [he hasn't seen death up close here but that's what he's heard. the idea that death can take that long to... grow back from? is that it? sets a pit in his stomach, running a thumb idly up and down the back of pal's neck.
what do you do with that? an excellent, solid question.] For a start? What you are doing now, I think. Listen to me breath, feel my heartbeat, let it be grounding if your own body refuses to be.
[he has no idea if it will help but curled together like this everything does feel more real, cold bathroom floor and pal's tears on his shoulder.] Oh, I could argue who is lucky here. If you'd like to share the title I'll allow it this once. [he turns his head, a soft sigh against pal's hair.] I am very glad you called me.
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Five weeks, the number, doesn't bother him (besides that it does; he's still trying even now to put it back in the box). It's the feeling he sometimes gets, the way a body feels before a person falls asleep— like parts of him are there-but-not-entirely, like someone's turned off a switch. So.
Well, it's easy to curl tighter into Viktor's arms, to do all these things, to center himself on the timbre of his voice. Viktor accepts his panicked weeping with - well, with grace, and Palamedes could and just might cry a little longer, awash in appreciation for him.]
So that I could get your shirt wet?
[Ha ha, but no, he'll remember this. He always remembers, and Viktor turning up in a heartbeat to hold him without question is pretty high on the luck meter. He takes a moment to collect himself; if he exerts nearly all of his self control, he can tamp down the crying to a mere silent drip of tears.]
I told Paul— when I came back, I told him that I wasn't going to unravel, so the absolute worst part is: now this town has made me a liar. [this is not a bit, he's offended, but still] But I suppose that was your point, wasn't it? And his. About unraveling sometimes.
[gotta say, he's not a fan so far.]
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[so yup, pal did good, sorry. his thumb keeps up its steady rhythm, up and down over the back of pal's neck to the first bump of his spine, an attempt at soothing, clockwork motion.]
Did he say something similar? I will certainly like him then, he has good sense. [not that he doubted that but still, extra points on the paul card.] I could give you the science of it, if you like. The chemical compound of a breakdown, endorphins and serotonin and all those ways the mind is just a complex and intricate machine regulating itself with your tears and trembling. I suppose that's just a fancy way of saying I think you put far too much on your own shoulders with claims like that, that you will not unravel.
Why should you not unravel sometimes anyway? I doubt you would judge any of those close to you for doing the same. [he absolutely can think of reasons- hell, he has his own reasons for sometimes doing the same, but the point is less to make guess and more to hear what pal has to say about it. walking through the process of it seems kinder than trying to drag him through to reach some end point of just accepting it.]
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Paul— implied. I understood. [An awful lot of circular dancing-around-the-issue on that particular day, being the actual day Palamedes woke up from being a squid; but still: implied. He likes hearing the science, all things considered, and then it comes back down to this thing he does, that he is trying to do right now despite the Trench's mirror machinations kicking and screaming right back at him the whole way: just... not. Unraveling.
He almost says he's never had cause to unravel completely, but that's such nonsense that he gets hit with another bout of sobbing like divine punishment. Terrible. Mmph.]
It's not about— [he hiccups, which is mortifying] —judgment. Of course not. I don't- have time. There's never time.
[Never ever, not for the young Scholar or the Master Warden or whatever he should call himself now; there is only one direction, he'd told someone on the beach, and its measure is time. Damnable, stupid thing. He sniffles, shifts to press his face into the join of Viktor's neck and shoulder, circles the point some more in his thoughts. It's harder to do the more he talks instead of forcing his mind to stay reasonable, which makes him dread the next thing he says a little more:]
It's about... focus. If I stop for this whenever it suits me, it could be- likely will be- disastrous. Or it would have been. [A beat. Wry,] It's also very gross and makes me sound awful.
[Super gross, and it's earnestly not that he feels judged and artlessly tries to change the subject, but he's still grateful for Viktor doing this thing for him, so,] We don't have to stay in the bathroom. But if you let go of me I will be inconsolable, fair warning.
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a matter to consider in a bit.
never enough time strikes him deeply- gods, doesn't he know it, on so many levels now. spending every moment shoving as much work in as possible, even that never feeling like quite enough. always something else to be done, always something wrong to be fixed, always problems left unattended as the work stretched on. how old was pal when he decided to put it all on his shoulders? he can't remember exactly now but he knows the answer is too young.]
And of course the more you locked away the more the pressure built, the more disastrous the fallout when you were forced to stop. Nothing left to be done but try to outrun it as well as you can manage. [he guesses, humorless.] You can stop here, in this place- you are stopped right now, and this is not so terribly disastrous, yes?
[a pause and he turns to kiss the side of pal's head, saying quietly into his ear,] Let us get up and go to the couch or bed, if only to get away from the mirror. Then I will hold you because I would very much like to do that properly and we can talk about time and focus and the fact you are here now, with me, regardless of how it sometimes feels. Is that acceptable?
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He considers: is he stopped here? He feels just about the same amount of restless as before, but perhaps with the points changed, a different center; he doesn't know. Something else to unpack. First—]
Bed is closer. [And he makes an herculean effort to sit up and rub his face with one hand, to look at Viktor without bursting into more messy tears for how much he cares about him, another huge effort. He manages a crooked, quasi-smile instead.] I am crying on the bathroom floor, which is- it's arguably a disaster of some magnitude. I threw my glasses in the sink.
[Feels silly, now. He's making the next effort to get up, in a second, but,] Being with you is the furthest thing from disastrous that I can think of.
[Hmm— okay; he nods, like, now with that sap on the table, he is ready to crawl into bed and sulk until it stops. He moves to take Viktor's hand before standing, has one horrible lurching moment where getting up after so much crying and leaving Viktor's arms is the worst thing, actually— and it passes. He sort of hovers, other hand held out too, clingy and offering help getting up at once.]
I'll get my glasses later. [the mirror is over there, do not approach,] Let's go.
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[the sap gets him another kiss, this time on his forehead, before he's taking pal's hand and watching him get up, getting up himself. his knee protests heartily in retaliation for this whole bathroom floor business but it is ignored, as the mirror is ignored. curiosity is a hell of a drug but palamedes needing him focused is more so.
he foregoes the crutch, leans into pal instead until they get to the bunks. he considers the logistics of undoing his knee brace one handed before giving up and accepting they'll have to handle the clunky thing.] One disaster now handled. [no more bathroom floor! it's progress.
he scoots back and lies on his side, hand still in pal's as he waits for the other to join him in what is truly a far more comfortable position, knee braces and all. he makes a mental note to get the man some water when he can bear the separation, just a neat and easier checklist in his head of how one handles the physical symptoms. the rest is largely guesswork.] Better?
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Good god, if I'm ever crying in a public bathroom, I'd forgive you unconditionally for pretending you don't know me.
[But yes, away to the bunks it is, following Viktor into bed and shifting in close to lean their foreheads together. He hums; yes, better, and lifts his other hand to Viktor's cheek, tracing his jaw and then his cheekbone with his fingertips.]
Better. Are you alright? [murmured; gentle concern for Viktor's leg, which he knows cannot have enjoyed being on the floor for even that handful of minutes. A fresh tear runs unchecked down the side of his nose and he simply lets it, if only because it isn't more whole-body sobbing. If the reserve of tears he's never shed is going to come anyway, it's better like this. Quietly.
And not in a public bathroom, so leagues above that horrible possibility.]
I want to explain my... focus problem, but I'll have to start from the beginning. [His lips quirk in another tiny smile, since-] Just this once, can I ask you to save your questions until the end?
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he cups pal's cheek to brush at the quieter tears with his thumb.] I am fine. [the truth, the discomfort will fade to vague discomfort then ignorable discomfort baseline, and hopefully he won't accidentally bang his brace into pal's leg. workable situation, the focus can now be on pal's focus, which has him offering a nod.]
Fine, I can contain myself this once. [he says dryly, one last sweep of his thumb before he's moving his hand from pal's jaw.] Go ahead.
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Necromancy is an unmastered thing, [he says, and allows himself one second only of private amusement that God and the various Lyctors around would be pissy at him for saying it. Ahem,] By my estimate there are infinitely many things we don't know it can do, because the accepted rules contradict a possibility, or it's— harder to prove something worked, when it's tested.
[He slips hand into Viktor's hair, running his fingers through it, blinking away the next onset of tears that wells up for this particular topic.]
At home, the dead go to the River. Not like the sea here, I can assure you, so that coincidence is mercifully not some even greater Powers That Be thinking they're funny. [fuck the sea, personally,] Souls in the River go mad, usually.
[He closes his eyes on a sigh, feels an abrupt spark of panic and opens them again— okay, even the dark behind eyelids is a little much right now, lesson learned. He frowns.]
Next point: Camilla and I went to the First to become a Lyctor. It went— wrong. People died, I died, and I will never in a million years apologize to Cam enough for that— but I'm very good at my job. In the River I built myself a room, and I stayed there, reading that god awful novel over and over, while Cam carried a piece of me around. This isn't— no one did this before me, and it worked, but the unknowns are even greater, and...
[And the unknowns are very exciting for the part of him dedicated to research, but first: the focus problem.]
I was in there for eight months and I didn't even know that. Nothing happens. Nothing- necromancy doesn't work. Nothing kept me whole except focusing on it. I couldn't do anything about it from where I was and then I woke up on the beach surrounded by corpses. I thought maybe I'd slipped into the River properly— I didn't-
[He bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head a fraction. It's been weird.]
My work didn't go as planned the second time, here. That's how I know its function is fundamentally different. You can ask questions now.
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he steals one of pal's hands to pull it closer, rests his lips against pal's fingers as he listens. it means he can feel viktor's lips move then shut again quickly at 'I died,' maybe the swallow that follows.
there is something so distinctly horrifying about the idea of it, trapped in a room of his own making and fighting against the madness of isolation and stasis. funny, some of his first days here he was forced to talk to allen about the fear of that, like it all comes around full circle one infuriating way or another. imagining pal and all his restless energy trapped in a box feels the same as when he thinks of rio twitching on the floor of the lab, tubes creeping out of her.
he pulls pal's hand away from his lips after a few more moments, a soft breath over them.] If you stopped you would have slipped away. Yes I... can see where that is now a habit you can't easily break.
[it also answered a few things, like the first never getting much mention, like how complicated death could be- like just how terrible it must have been to lose camilla. he reaches out again to cup pal's jaw.]
I'll ask you all about Lyctors later, so be prepared for that. It goes to show you how much of a sway you have that I am refraining for the moment. [faintly dry, a quiet, weak attempt at humor.] You understood yourself and your reality enough to find a way back from death and now the rules have been rewritten. That is... infuriating, I can imagine. On top of the prolonged isolation.
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So Viktor's touch is a blessing, while he mires in the dread of being back in that room, untouched, barely real; the second time he'd woken up in Trench Gideon had all but thrown him up in the air, and Paul had sat with him, and now Viktor reaches for him in the midst of it. This time it's gratitude, not despair, that makes his throat burn and the tears flow again; Palamedes tips his head to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth, and nods. Lyctors—later.]
Flatterer, [he mumbles, wry; but yes, he is That Good, thanks for acknowledging it.] Logically, I know that I'm here. You're here, and you're spectacular and brilliant and real— thank god. Still, what did we say? Leaving everything from before behind doesn't work.
[Or: he'd love to logic his way out of this one, but the heart remembers eight months of picking at the wallpaper and logic goes out the window.
And he's angry about the sea, that too.]
I can't fix it. I've tried. Even the fucking ocean got the better of me. I'm terrified, without qualifications, [without any prepackaged quips, that is,] Now I'm crying out every drop of fluid in me for it.
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You know when I met Allen it was in the catacombs, where it forced us to share mortifying insecurities in order to move forward. [still hates that! even if it landed him a good friend. but the point-] This is just another example of it, whatever reality we find ourselves in thrives on making us face the world before and specifically the scars it left. We never really stood a chance of even pretending we could escape it.
[he rests their foreheads together a moment.] Then we'll take it step by step. When you feel unmoored you know you can call me, or no doubt this sensible Paul, or others. I'll hold you like this and that will help, yes? Then the reality of this place, the ocean, we'll unwind bit by bit. Our work with bloodstones is a good way to start trying to pin down how the universal system of magic here works, and from there we can better understand each facet of this reality.
[which is more than several lifetimes of work, he's sure, but it's a plan and he's always found comfort in that. if pal does he isn't sure but he wants to offer it regardless, pulling back enough to regard him properly again.] And when it's all too much at times we'll be terrified together. You... you've done enough Palamedes, surviving as you did. You do not need to shoulder so much on your own.
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Until then, the Trench is grim, but at least the people in it are worth infinitely more. He's been enjoying the company, he'd said the last time someone asked, and that holds true now, listening to Viktor logic through it for him. A plan is good, a plan is a firm place to stand, but with some haste he must interject—]
Don't do any work on the ocean. Not without me. [The ocean cannot be trusted, first of all, but more than that Palamedes vividly recalls God's own unpleasant study and his notes upon notes about the ocean, and his rambling about "cracking" it, and the way he looks at Palamedes like a thing he should already own and gets uppity when the thing says no. Viktor is too intelligent and valuable and interested in enough similar concepts to stay off the radar of anyone who knows Palamedes, and even beyond that, it's not that big a town.
No, he wouldn't like that. No, Viktor shouldn't fiddle around with the ocean unless they both are. He says,] If anyone tries to tell you I'm a valuable part of their ocean projects, they're a liar.
[And the rest of that he'll save for the Lyctor conversation, although he doesn't know how well he conveys the "not now" vibe with a face that's been crying for a while now. Later.]
Trust me, [he adds, deflating a little, brushing some of Viktor's hair back and cupping his face.] Let's leave the ocean for last.
[Ah, and that sharp turn has distracted him from the earnest sweetness in the rest of what Viktor says, though he's more than willing to sink back into that instead of - ocean studies. It would be nice— to have done enough, to spend his days now studying creepy rocks with Viktor, without the voice at the back of his mind that always seems ready to tell him that if he's decided to stop for a moment when there are still things to do, he's made the wrong choice.
Would be nice. Might even be doable, now that this place has forced him to open enough boxes and cry about it.]
I want to continue our work on the bloodstones. This feeling... I want to be busy, to stave it off. But I can do it better with you. And Paul, and the rest. At least, I want to try.
[One afternoon of weeping can't overturn all of his bad habits, but there's that work in progress again; he can put in the work. He leans in to kiss him, gratitude and warmth and some more tears, sorry, and strokes Viktor's hair again when he pulls away.]
You said 'terrified together'. Is it just the usual, [he hates that there's a "usual,"] or something else?
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trusting him is easy, easier than it has any right to be really, and viktor nods. later, when pal isn't under the influence of something horrific and has had a little more time to digest all of this anew.] I won't work on the ocean without you, I promise. We are partners, after all.
[he offers a fain quirk of his lips, hoping it's reassuring. that's easy enough to promise anyway, his interests have been more in beasthood and blood than the ocean yet, though that 'yet' is a very pointed one.]
And with all the hobbies we discussed on top of it. We'll keep busy and productive, just ah- well, I've never been good at telling when that is going too far. Telling you to rest as well seems a little hypocritical. [he huffs, nerds.] I'll still ask that you try to do so, when you can. No one deserves it more in my completely unbiased opinion.
[then he can't help a laugh, short and swallowed again quickly.] Really Palamedes, you would take a moment from your own Tench-induced 'unravelling' to ask something like that. Sweet man. [he leans in for a kiss, just more of pal's tears on his own face when he pulls back.] The usual, mostly. Also the more I build here the more terrified I am of losing it.
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He smiles, eyes still closed. His whole face feels clammy and blubbery from all this crying, and yet! There are still things worth smiling about.]
Partners, [he repeats, and,] Thank you, Viktor.
You could keep me honest, when it comes to getting rest. I'll do the same for you. Unbiased, of course.
[And in a pinch, either Rocky's impatience or Rio's desire for her own naps can pressure them both into sitting down and stopping, just for a time.
Palamedes moves his hand from Viktor's hair to his waist to pull him closer, endeared and enamored by his cut-off laugh like it's the greatest thing he's heard all day. This is the thing worth protecting, and all the research notes and hobbies are how to do just that. Of course he's going to pause his unravelling to ask.]
As long as I have any say in it, you'll have me. [It's a cliche, but he rather likes this one, so here it is.] Even if I'm sobbing on the floor in the Earworm bathroom. I'll do whatever it takes to stay here.
[It's much easier to defy the universe when it's for someone else, in his experience? He's got this one.]
We're partners, so— anything you need.
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[he considers adding on how he doesn't need to be thanked for this, how he should thank pal, etc. he lets it go in a quiet exhale, careful of his brace as they press closer.
one of his arms finds a place to rest over pal's waist, eyes closed and quiet for making claims he probably can't keep. it's still nice to hear, even gets a soft snort for the earworm bathroom, his other hand pressing against pal's chest like he can feel out the beat of his heart.] As will I. It's odd, I think in most ways I'd rather be here anyway.
[if presented the actual choice, which is another matter he isn't sure he wants to dwell on for very long, not when pal seems to be reaching some sort of peace and viktor can lean in to kiss him for it.]
Mm, then start by continuing to come to me like this. I- truly, the eight months alone horrifies me. How you've kept it together is a testament to your stubbornness. [he says quietly between them.] I am sorry by the way, that some horrible Trench event dragged all this out of you. I won't say I'm not glad of it in some ways but I do wish it had been on your terms.
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I would make a few changes, [less torment and more Camilla, for starters,] but I think I'd rather be here, too.
[He studiously avoids thinking that's selfish of him when there were clearly things back home that needed his help, despite everything, and it takes a hefty dollop of effort, but. Hmm. He can curl his fingers in the back of Viktor's shirt and savor the feeling of lips against his, and yes, he's going to allow himself to choose not being dead in a ghost room as the better option.
Progress. He lets out a huff, halfway amused- stubborn! Wow! Maybe! Yeah.]
Don't be sorry; I think it's beginning to pass, anyway. I'd have told you all this eventually, [although perhaps with a more distinct lean towards the magic and not the, hm, unreality problem, but he's not about to give Trench any credit for the push.
He thinks for a moment, quiet.]
I kept it together in there for Camilla, and for the Ninth— and I know how it sounds, but I don't mean it as some form of- of obligation, one or the other, my thing or theirs. I didn't think I had a thing; I couldn't allow myself to conceptualize it until I got here. It turns out, I have a thing.
[Possibly even several!! He wrinkles his nose and squints, like, ew- such oversight. Terrible showing from past-Palamedes. Then he relaxes again, nudging Viktor lightly in the hip, affectionate.]
Do you want me to promise? I do; I'll come to you.
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[ok less invasive mind events and maybe palebloods not hallucinating sometimes, also up there, but sh. he does have similar feelings of duty though, ones that have him say,] There's so much I wanted to get done for the undercity at least, but there's just as much to be done here. More, perhaps, when it comes down to it.
Of course you being here is enough to sway me either way. [disgusting sentiment said with a small smile, and he doesn't even make a quip about it.] Hm, I cannot express how glad I am we had the chance to meet, Palamedes.
[he does at least exhale in amusement at himself, maybe a little at how it's easier to say things like that and not feel some pang of needing to guard the vulnerable places uncovered by how true it is. certainly easier hushed between them.
he hums- maybe he would have told viktor but still, a big fuck you to the trench for pushing things on principle.] I understand. Sometimes moving unerringly forward is simply a matter of survival rather than denial regardless, especially if you have people relying on you in any way.
And I will gladly take that promise, thank you. Even if you just wished to be close and say nothing else I would come, you know.
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[Ha ha. Point, though; this place does need a helping hand, and it's disingenuous to act otherwise. Palamedes nods, for that always charming desire to help people, and kisses Viktor on the nose, for the sentiment. He's feeling an ounce or two better, if he can go in for the real gooey stuff like nose kisses.]
I can't get enough of it when you talk about philanthropy. Can't get enough of you, in general.
[Saccharine; if he weren't still kind of in a mood he'd go in for the tease, bother Viktor about expressing it in an academic paper or two - he'll remember that one for next time.
It's bittersweet in a way, to cherish that Viktor understands at the same time he wishes that he didn't, that neither of them had to think in terms of survival or unerringly forward. If only! If only. There's a part of him now that relies on Viktor, but he refuses to be shackles, so— he will get his shit together, specifically in the way that asks for support in the normal, healthy way. Good plan.] A work in progress, as always.
And you know I'm terrible at being that quiet and at keeping my hands to myself. [at all times that do not impede lab safety, ahem,] Anyway, you can do the same. I'll drop everything; give me advance notice and I'll even bring you sandwiches. Are you hungry right now?
[Like, he will actually, but he still manages to say it with a touch of humor.]
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he pulls his hand up from pal's chest to wipe at any errant tears, an amused exhale when pal kisses him on the nose in such a sweet way. unbelievable. he's not sure which of them is worse and he greatly enjoys that fact.] I'll remember that, perhaps whispering sweet nothings of future projects in easily available purification methods and greater means of early prevention of beasthood would rile you. All beasts cured and not hunted.
[he's happy to go for teasing there, saying it in a low tone between them as if it actually were sweet or dirty talk. shockingly he finds pal's own interest in that whole making things better thing wonderful and attractive, so it's just an endless, gay loop.
the 'hands to himself' gets a soft snort but the offer of a sandwich makes him laugh, surprised and quickly bitten off but tugging at his lips regardless.] Why do I get the distinct feeling if my stomach so much as growled you'd be up and doing so? No, I like being right here for now. My plan for the evening is to hold you as often as I possibly can.
[ridiculous, but in some way he wants to put a chip in those eight months, like with enough time and patience the feeling of touch will become so familiar it will chase away the old chill.] I promise I will call you as well. Mirrors now, is it? That is going to be annoying to avoid for however long this lasts. I am using some for the laser project but I suppose I'll just switch to focusing on other matters for the time being.
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Maybe not that particular subject, but your lecturing voice? We'd have to do a few tests. Break into another classroom, you know.
[Beast-curing is still of interest, though, so why not both. Context is everything. Making Viktor laugh like that is also everything, as totally serious as he is about the sandwiches; guilty as charged. He hums to that effect and scoots in that much closer unabashedly, to hold and be held and revel in both. He is needy, right now— but it's also a gift to have an affectionate boyfriend all evening? Speaking of lucky, yet again.]
Mirrors. I'm not sure, I think— it might just be anything shiny that poses a risk. But I avoided having another self attached to me; you might just avoid having a problem with mirrors.
[One can hope. Hmm,] Shame about the lasers, for now. Which project do I have the privilege of badgering you about in the interim?
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when pal moves closer viktor kisses his temple with a murmured 'one moment,' sitting up to finally get his brace the heck off so when he's back down again he can tangle their legs without poking pal with uncomfortable bits of metal. the short moment sort of away gets another kiss in apology before he's wrapping around pal again, soft huffs as he makes himself comfortable.
a very good way to spend the evening.] Hm, that is true. What do you think it did, exactly? It seemed like it forced you to confront unpleasant, bottled up emotions.
[which fuck that. seemingly less deadly than his annoying him-shaped tick of before but still.] The taser project, most likely. I've had another person interested in it, I think it could be a good alternative for people uncomfortable with heavy violence, if only I can make sure it's actually effective against beasts. It won't exactly be easy to take it for. a trial run.
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[Ah, but there goes Viktor and his brace, and Palamedes expediently shoves both his hands under his own head to control his mirror-addled urge to interrupt. Then it's back to holding him close, making a face like, well— unpleasant. Yes. Unpleasant.]
That about does it, I think; things I wasn't planning on tackling myself without a five-step process, at least. Some parts of it are harder to shake than others.
[But Viktor wanted to hold him, so that part is working out. Fortunate that his unmanaged emotions circle around something marginally harmless, compared to like - the urge to stab everybody, or some such. Cuddling up to Viktor and listening to him talk about projects is a normal evening, essentially. Mostly. Ignoring the mirror.]
Hire a hunter to give it a whirl? There's always throwing it very hard at a beast, although that's fairly less scientific. [haha... he can't help with beast tasing, alas.] How many are you going to make?
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[viktor runs his fingers over that face, maybe the dips of a furrowed brow and the curve of downturned lips. mapping a potential grimace and snorting softly.] I'll warn some of the people I know regardless. That is if Allen would answer his messages. [a sigh. haha teenagers, right.
the mental image of hitting a beast in the face with a taser at least makes him smile a touch, nodding.] Not a bad idea, maybe I'll ask Jason or Todoroki when I'm sure it can be handled. I want to see how it works myself though, which complicates matters. [basically hiring a hunter to use it AND make sure he doesn't die.] Mm, just two at the moment. The supplies involved haven't been too terrible to find, it would be too difficult to make more assuming it ends up worthwhile.
Meaning if any of your flock of teenagers could use one I'd be happy to do so.
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i'm officially apologizing for writing a pun that my father has printed on a tshirt
there is no god here
puns wrapped this thread in the lord's name