[Octavian blinks - and he hasn't remembered to blink much, yet, so that's extra notable - and gives Viktor a considering look instead of staring at the mirrors even longer. He wouldn't assume? That's genuinely a first, not that he's been holding it against anyone here for anything other than the time it takes to explain himself. Hm,
Interesting.
In that case,] I will ignore her.
[Totally fine by him. He shifts and turns, sweeping an arm out at the other set of mirrors, that are still looping the blood and the body on the floor. This magically-inclined stranger wants to know about him, and you know what, he's feeling more amenable about it than usual.]
Then consider mine. I was murdered and I refused to move on. This world considers that a crime.
[This last part even comes with a sneer, the sheer effort of it— Incredibly rude implications about his continued existence, thanks Aldrip.]
[ the blink doesn't escape his attention — given that he has barely done it so far, perhaps it means he doesn't need to and this is a reaction, betraying... surprise? have others heaped assumptions on him, then? not particularly surprising; people have the tendency to view everything around them through the lens of their own experiences and knowledge, after all. many don't stop and think of their preconceived notions before letting them influence their opinions.
he exhales in relief, then, though the breath drags through his lungs and makes him cough, once, twice, until he manages to swallow back the rest of them, focusing instead on the other mirrors and their content. he considers the words; the i was murdered makes his brow furrow, but the rest... ]
Short-sighted of it, [ he says after a moment. ] You do what you must. [ behind him, sky's ashes coalesce back into her human form as she looks at him, shakes her head. viktor breathes in, out. he regrets everything that happened, he regrets using the hexcore like he did, he would change it all if he could... and yet, ] If I had the option to... linger, after whatever little time I've left is over, I would choose that, too. There is too much to do.
[ too much to do, and he's achieved far, far too little. ]
[Ah, and so few people have actually understood; so many avoid the topic completely, or have an interest in the novelty, like Root; or want to shove him in a corpse to see what happens, like Fandaniel— the plainly-stated you do what you must is so... refreshing. This one is likable so far, Octavian decides; a singular passion for progress is delightful, and hopefully with fewer murders.
Well. His gaze flicks briefly to the woman while this man, well, wheezes— then away again. Fewer, he hopes, but he isn't going to ask. They can discuss his own more instead, if that would help.]
Would that I could lend you a formula. Exhausting at best. But the work continues.
[He shrugs, like, you understand— and with one of them dead and the other at death's door, with a cough like that, they do both seem to understand this particular point.
As if irritated by this, the mirror immediately behind him emits a noise like a shatter, though its surface stays smooth; an accompanying rasp of a voice shouting at the back of his head:] LEAVE.
[He looks over his shoulder, frowning. Well, okay, since it's getting wacky in here,] Did you hear it.
no subject
Interesting.
In that case,] I will ignore her.
[Totally fine by him. He shifts and turns, sweeping an arm out at the other set of mirrors, that are still looping the blood and the body on the floor. This magically-inclined stranger wants to know about him, and you know what, he's feeling more amenable about it than usual.]
Then consider mine. I was murdered and I refused to move on. This world considers that a crime.
[This last part even comes with a sneer, the sheer effort of it— Incredibly rude implications about his continued existence, thanks Aldrip.]
no subject
he exhales in relief, then, though the breath drags through his lungs and makes him cough, once, twice, until he manages to swallow back the rest of them, focusing instead on the other mirrors and their content. he considers the words; the i was murdered makes his brow furrow, but the rest... ]
Short-sighted of it, [ he says after a moment. ] You do what you must. [ behind him, sky's ashes coalesce back into her human form as she looks at him, shakes her head. viktor breathes in, out. he regrets everything that happened, he regrets using the hexcore like he did, he would change it all if he could... and yet, ] If I had the option to... linger, after whatever little time I've left is over, I would choose that, too. There is too much to do.
[ too much to do, and he's achieved far, far too little. ]
no subject
Well. His gaze flicks briefly to the woman while this man, well, wheezes— then away again. Fewer, he hopes, but he isn't going to ask. They can discuss his own more instead, if that would help.]
Would that I could lend you a formula. Exhausting at best. But the work continues.
[He shrugs, like, you understand— and with one of them dead and the other at death's door, with a cough like that, they do both seem to understand this particular point.
As if irritated by this, the mirror immediately behind him emits a noise like a shatter, though its surface stays smooth; an accompanying rasp of a voice shouting at the back of his head:] LEAVE.
[He looks over his shoulder, frowning. Well, okay, since it's getting wacky in here,] Did you hear it.