[ he's hilarious, what do you mean — but no, it can be confirmation bias and true all the same, and that is what viktor holds onto.
and then he's not really focusing on that, anymore, because octavian's sputtering is frankly adorable, and viktor, having gone through this same experience when rio appeared in his dream for the first time... viktor laughs, for it is an actual laugh this time, quiet and sounding very close to a chuckle still, but somehow more. so no, he is in fact no help with this, but at least octavian gets to watch this once-in-a-decade event?
he disentangles their hands for a moment, digging into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief, which he only has because he, again, had to use it to dry his face perhaps five dreams ago. he holds it out for octavian with a shrug and a little shake of his hand, as if to say, here, and also sorry about her. ]
The river? [ right, he only said there are no large bodies of water; nothing about small bodies of water. and the dream continues to be kind to him — his cane remains in his hand, in the way he has not been able to walk for years, now; his leg is still in its customary brace, though, blending past and present neatly.
he makes a little noise of appreciation as they make it to the river; it is a beautiful sight, especially in the dusk, the reds dark and vibrant around the water. ]
There are no rivers like this in Piltover... nor Zaun. It is beautiful.
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and then he's not really focusing on that, anymore, because octavian's sputtering is frankly adorable, and viktor, having gone through this same experience when rio appeared in his dream for the first time... viktor laughs, for it is an actual laugh this time, quiet and sounding very close to a chuckle still, but somehow more. so no, he is in fact no help with this, but at least octavian gets to watch this once-in-a-decade event?
he disentangles their hands for a moment, digging into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief, which he only has because he, again, had to use it to dry his face perhaps five dreams ago. he holds it out for octavian with a shrug and a little shake of his hand, as if to say, here, and also sorry about her. ]
The river? [ right, he only said there are no large bodies of water; nothing about small bodies of water. and the dream continues to be kind to him — his cane remains in his hand, in the way he has not been able to walk for years, now; his leg is still in its customary brace, though, blending past and present neatly.
he makes a little noise of appreciation as they make it to the river; it is a beautiful sight, especially in the dusk, the reds dark and vibrant around the water. ]
There are no rivers like this in Piltover... nor Zaun. It is beautiful.