[They wait until he's started in that direction before following. The Bloodfiends remain distracted in the meantime, continuing on their parade route while their recent, still-standing victims continue to fight their inevitable transformation in to Bloodbags.]
< Looks like we're in the clear so far. There are a few that are closer to us than the others, so we'll want to remain cautious. >
[At least, that's what they're able to gather. With so many so close, it's hard to wholly distinguish the ones that had broken from the whole from the movements of the ever-onward march, but Dante does their best to focus on what they can.
Even without the experience Levi has, they can do this much.]
[Octavian spends only a moment more indulging in his exploring touch; they are in front of his family after all, they mustn't be completely indecent. Though when his hand falls away from Viktor's neck it's only to seek out his hand again to hold, an affectionately loose tangle of fingers, while he simply enjoys being here and looking at him.
He cants his head to one side just slightly, an equally slight furrow in his brow, but the quiet smile— which is increasingly reserved for Viktor, it's starting to feel like— remains. Hmm,]
None of those have ever occurred to me.
[Quite literally, he's never thought about it, but also quite literally, he's never found himself, oh, blindsided by some rush of emotions for someone else quite outside his control. He knows the lines, certainly, Sterling had mooned over a handful of people with all the expected trappings, but, well. Intentional, yes, that's the best term for it; to have the space to consider the shape of a feeling and come to a conclusion.
It's the only way that makes sense to him, all things considered. Sterling would say he's the opposite of a romantic, but surely nothing could be more romantic than actually participating?]
I care for you, [he says, to that end and possibly abruptly, then,] By now this is evident. This I admit. But I wanted to say it directly.
[ there is a reason he says people describe it as — it isn't like that for him either, and furthermore he doesn't like the idea of... falling, as it's so often depicted as, because to fall is to be dragged down, to fail, and he hates things outside of his own control. no, he doesn't want to fall; to take small steps forward instead, eyes open, with his full knowledge —
now that he can do.
something else he can do, and would like to continue doing, is stand here, their hands holding onto each other gently, and watch that small smile play on octavian's lips.
and truthfully, he is taken aback by the words; he would have been entirely content for this thing between them to exist between the lines, in this quiet understanding they have, about this as about so many other things... and yet, perhaps because of that, because of how neither of them is particularly verbose or prone to big declarations, the fact that octavian does say it — it means even more to him, as far as gestures go. ]
I'm glad, [ comes his answer, soft, ] That you do. And that you did.
[ this, perhaps, is where he should say the same — instead, he brushes his thumb once more against octavian's hand in a wordless response. but then, they wouldn't be having this conversation if he hadn't, hm, started it... so perhaps that has spoken it all for him. ]
[ cruel pranks... scott never changes, it seems. and yet, charles is grateful regardless — perhaps it had been just a dream, but at least that had been its own, imaginary pocket of reality where he and junpei were still together. he can appreciate that.
back to gray london, however; he makes a noise of mock-affront at the mention of a big clock, though he's grinning widely... and it soon turns into laughter, anyway, as he wraps his arm around him tighter. with his voice warm and light, ] Have I mentioned that I love you?
[ but, right: the grand tour. as requested. ]
Right, so there's the desk, that's where we receive the clients. [ and yes, there's only one chair for clients, and one for behind the desk; charles never sits on a chair anyways, so it's fine. ] And there's the case files, feel free to look at them if you want. [ and there are many; all of their cases from over the years. only the most recent ones are more clearly visible, the rest have been grouped together under folders for each year. ]
Uh, there's the books, there's a lot on magic there, I guess... oh, and the Clue boards! [ yes, there's an entire fucking shelf full of different editions of clue, from different countries, in different languages. (there are other board games, too, and an ouija board, and a fencing mask hanging off a shelf, and boxing gloves shoved in the corner; various balls around the room, too, one looking like a watermelon; a jar full of marbles sitting there on the desk, and a whole baguette in the middle of the floor for some reason.) ]
From what she could gather, there was nothing around them. That just made it all the more worse as she doesn't even know what to prepare for. She knows her brother is strong but even he has limits. This world already thrown them into some strange and bizarre situations. She doesn't want one where it would get the both of them serious injured.
"You don't think they're planning for a huge monster to fight us?"
With all the buildings around them gone, it just made it challenging. She didn't know why but she suddenly found her hand holding onto Hiei's shoulder. Yes, she was scared but she also wanted to know if her brother was truly there.
[ ... Good question. Once again, thinking back to his own world and the tug of war between Amaterasu and Takamagahara... it seems like Jinx might be on to something. ]
[There is admittedly a novelty to it, to saying the words— he's never felt this way about anyone before and so never had the opportunity to say the words, and while it's never bothered him, would not have bothered him either to not say it here, well! The experience! The opportunity!
And he can see in Viktor those shades of himself, quieter, more withdrawn; so too is there a measure of saying it because Viktor should get to hear it. Not saying it back isn't a problem either, for honestly most of the same reasons... and because Viktor has already kissed his cheek, and made his choice, and so ardently defended Octavian's right to exist without, hm, caveats. All of those things paint a pretty clear picture.
And they are holding hands, something Octavian feels almost... giddy over? He isn't sure; he's never been giddy, he doesn't know what it should look like, but he knows this: he likes the way Viktor's hand feels in his, wants after so very long to let someone in. If that's giddy, wonderful; if not, it doesn't matter.]
Good. [He almost says he's glad Viktor is glad, but no, let's not be silly. But almost.] Would you like to see Mars now?
[He looks up at the black sky, disappointed to not see the stars. The brightness of the city feels too much to him, amplifying the loneliness of the empty streets. Aether doesn't realized he stepped into a dream - one, that doesn't even belong to him. He's so used to ending up in strange places that he thinks little of it. He's just searching for a living soul... or maybe someone in particular?
The feeling of being watched accompanies him, but no matter how much he looks around, he doesn't see anyone. Eventually, he stumbles upon someone.
Aether hesitates when the young man motions to follow, but without a word... he does. It doesn't seem he has any better choice.]
[He can't...remember? Kurt seems more confused by that. Still, he's starting to feel bad for him. Being a student here from another country, there's plenty of basic things he had to learn for himself.]
Man, you really don't know what's going on. But it's cool! It's just - it's a dance. With a few different styles thrown in! It's specially a Sadie Hawkins dance, but that's more about the inviting than the type of dance. It's one where girls are supposed to ask out the dudes!
[He shrugs.]
Just watch the way everyone moves, and you'll get the hang of it. I'm Kurt, by the way. Kurt Wagner.
[ so you walk. the streets seem neverending - winding, lit with so many colours it becomes dizzying. even now accompanied, that sense of observation has not faded - if anything, it has become stronger.
the young man turns to you when you ask for his name, and smiles sadly. ]
A dreamer.
[ the glow around the edges of his silhouette flickers. he seems to not intend to answer more than that, for now.
you walk. after a time, the streets begin to blur. the buildings still glow, but now with neon. the rain begins to fall again. ]
[It is odd, isn't it. Pacing herself as though the weapon had more weight. Reacting to the movements of her foes, instead of anticipating. Aloy doesn't hesitate to strike down someone that has been afflicted by a some power - but she does pause in the fight, looking to Visas when she offers that explanation.
[Levi moves silently, or as close to it as possible, through the alleyways. He looks to Dante regularly for direction as they head further on. Shouldn't be much longer.]
It is something he has been told, something that has been said. It is something that curls up deep within the breast, that brays and barks and batters no matter the comforts it might afford and might possess. It is something you know, as Spock knows. It is something that you know that you have grappled with. You know it, as readily as you know that as you pad (silent, always silent) into the kitchen that it is Amanda who will greet you there. It is her, that you tip your head up to examine. You were so small, back then. You were so small and so frightened, a rabbit in the hearths of the desert.
Your heart beats just as fast at rest.
And yet, the confirmation that she is here brings to the fore the idea that perhaps the relief is a good thing, a grand thing. It brings to the memory of darker skin and darker eyes, the cut of white teeth as a larger hand pressed against your own. You know you taught her the way of your shared people, as much as you taught her the ways of your father's. She had told you: Love is logical. It keeps us together, makes us safer. It tells you who you can trust. It was always built into our individual biology, Spock. It reinforces the concept of societies, cooperation. You know that.
But, you hadn't. You hadn't, with anyone else. You hadn't, with exception to—the woman turns to you, the swing of her braid like a pendulum in the half-light of the kitchen. She studies your face, her dark gaze carrying the same intensity and softness of yours.
You had always had her eyes, she said.
And yet, you are speaking. You are speaking, as if the words you have said were said by the other.
A morning cannot be classified by the subjective. It knows no good or evil. It only is.
A kettle burbles upon the stove to your right. It is not common, to have such old devices. But, your mother was always one for certain traditions and comforts. It was something your father could not break her out of.
Her mouth curves. It's a subtle thing, the corners of her eyes crinkling. You have heard it called "crow's feet." You think, however imprecise Human expression tends to be, that this one has some merit. You can understand its origin, knowing what animal that is despite its non-native qualities.
No, I suppose not. But, she starts, taking a few steps away from the stove to crouch down to your level. You truly are small, you think. You have always found it a disadvantage. Evolutionarily, such a trait defines you as weaker, lesser.
The bruise from this morning's classes still stings upon your cheek.
Come here, she coaxes. Your face feels hot with shame. You blink back the ache that gathers at the corners of your eyes, feel your chest vise as her expression turns softer yet, gentler. She opens her arms, tanned beneath Vulcan's inhospitable climate. I won't tell anyone. ]
Sadie Hawkins dance? [ Pike murmurs reverently, the same way one might whisper "the Jedi?" Chris has always had a great fondness for old movies and television shows, though he had little time for them these days. The Sadie Hawkins dance was a common feature of movies and television programs from a certain era, but as a concept, they hadn't really survived to the 21st century, much less the 23rd. ]
I thought those were a myth.
[ Wait, is it weird that he's at a event that he's pretty sure hasn't existed for 200 years?
. . . Nah. It's probably fine. Time is a flat circle. ]
I'm-- Chris. Well, Christopher Pike, but Chris is fine. I, uh. I think I must be new here.
[There is a break in Visas' step. Because the answer should be no. It is meant to be no.
And yet she cannot deny that it is there... the darkness is still so ready to hand. It still whispers promises, promises that it cannot truly keep, yet...]
...We cannot use it. If we do, it will consume us.
[ Heimerdinger shakes his head for a moment, as though trying to reset his thoughts. But he acquiesces. Her name is Jinx. Why wouldn't her name be Jinx? If she insists it is Jinx, then Jinx it is! ]
Ah yes, Jinx. And it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Isha.
[ Jinx's words about 'dreams' and 'lucidity' and 'waking up' sail right over Heimerdinger's head at first. ]
A scam? No, no one is being scammed here. [ He gestures to the small upturned hat on the ground, which some generous Zaunites are placing tips into. ] I do not solicit donations, merely accept them if my audience is grateful enough to give!
[ Heimerdinger is addressing a crowd of younger fans— children, whom he delights with a small demonstration of a spinning gear toy in the palm of his hand— before he is distracted from this spectacle by Viktor's voice. He looks up, his mind taking a moment to rework its expectations to accept familiarity with Viktor in this setting. But, seeing him in the zaun-green waistcoat helps Heimerdinger's dream logic to slot Viktor into place easily enough. ]
Viktor, lad! [ He's hardly a lad anymore, but old habits die hard. ] I didn't know you were in attendance.
[ He glances over at Rio, his fluffy eyebrows raising somewhat. ]
[ He's here to do a job, isn't he? He's supposed to... wake up the sleeping dreamer? Is that right? It is hard for him to remember his cause when the dream is so tangible around him.
He looks up at Vander behind the bar, recognizing the face but not the atmosphere of its surroundings. ]
Erm. Just a punch for me, please.
[ He reaches up to tug on the hem of Vi's jacket. ]
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