𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
runeing) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
expiationlogs2025-02-01 08:24 pm
runeing) wrote in expiationlogs2025-02-01 08:24 pm
[Viktor shifts and Octavian looses his grip just enough to let him— who knew he had that much of a hug in him before this very moment, he certainly didn't— and they could say nothing else at all here, and it would be alright. Octavian could simply watch Viktor for another few hours, a full day— enough time to fully process that he is here and alive and moving. Even reaching for his crutch is momentarily the most mesmerizing thing in the universe.
He remembers belatedly to blink and does so a few times in quick succession, tilting his head to lean against Viktor's. Immediately, he says...
It's not the sort of thing that deserves a stupid quip, so instead,] Stay here a while.
[Because Octavian missed him, yes, and he has a whole week of looking at him and touching him quietly to make up, but more than that: no one in this ridiculous city has an appropriate relationship with death, and he would not see Viktor try to work his way through this particular wreckage on his own.
And also the other things. He opens his mouth to say something else and his tablet begins to beep, the sharp chirp cutting him off. Ah, yes,]
I had set a timer. After your message.
[Normal things to do. Would that he could turn that off without having to actually move, hm, it's just going...]
He remembers belatedly to blink and does so a few times in quick succession, tilting his head to lean against Viktor's. Immediately, he says...
It's not the sort of thing that deserves a stupid quip, so instead,] Stay here a while.
[Because Octavian missed him, yes, and he has a whole week of looking at him and touching him quietly to make up, but more than that: no one in this ridiculous city has an appropriate relationship with death, and he would not see Viktor try to work his way through this particular wreckage on his own.
And also the other things. He opens his mouth to say something else and his tablet begins to beep, the sharp chirp cutting him off. Ah, yes,]
I had set a timer. After your message.
[Normal things to do. Would that he could turn that off without having to actually move, hm, it's just going...]
[ the line — yes, the line is entirely deliberate, of course, because he remembers it all too well from the last time they had one of these conversations. and he says it not as an excuse, or even a deterrent; it hadn't stopped him from wanting to know everything junpei had been through, had it? and he doesn't believe for one moment it's going to be enough to stop junpei, either.
instead, it's an explanation and a pre-emptive apology all at once, because it will upset him, he knows that much, because as much as he's always tried to downplay his home life, as much as his customary response to anything he's ever said about it has been it's fine —
well. he isn't an idiot. he does know it's not, in fact, at all fine. and he tilts his head into the touch and says, ] I know. [ of course junpei isn't worried about it; it's him who's worried, here, but he's just going to have to endure that, he thinks.
he takes the plate, then, but shakes his head to that think about it; he's already thought about it. ] We promised, yeah? I meant it, then. I still mean it. If you want to know...
[ he dries the plate and sets it aside with a shrug. ] It'll be easier if I just show you. [ after silverware and utensils, that is. ]
instead, it's an explanation and a pre-emptive apology all at once, because it will upset him, he knows that much, because as much as he's always tried to downplay his home life, as much as his customary response to anything he's ever said about it has been it's fine —
well. he isn't an idiot. he does know it's not, in fact, at all fine. and he tilts his head into the touch and says, ] I know. [ of course junpei isn't worried about it; it's him who's worried, here, but he's just going to have to endure that, he thinks.
he takes the plate, then, but shakes his head to that think about it; he's already thought about it. ] We promised, yeah? I meant it, then. I still mean it. If you want to know...
[ he dries the plate and sets it aside with a shrug. ] It'll be easier if I just show you. [ after silverware and utensils, that is. ]
[ He thought it would be...oh. Shigeru's frown is evident as is his worry he might just take a seat there and then? Sorry, Viktor, this is a heavy topic but one that he's not unfamiliar with. ] I guess everyone has different thoughts of what it might feel like. So-so you're not wrong to wonder about it.
[ He looks away rubbing at his gloved hands momentarily. ] I've heard some people think it'll be terrifying and painful, but then others think it'll be a relief. I-I guess it just depends on the person's circumstances and how they've approached the subject, really. But I mean...it's terrifying, regardless. For the one suffering and for the people who knew them. Especially if they had things they still wanted to accomplish in life.
[ Those were always the worst cases in his opinion, but he doesn't say it. He takes a small sip of his drink looking back at the other before his eyes look elsewhere. Considering what was said this man before him had definitely died. Here or back home it doesn't matter. He probably doesn't want to hear sorry's either, possibly trying to process it still, so Shigeru will just let that silence between them linger. ]
[ He looks away rubbing at his gloved hands momentarily. ] I've heard some people think it'll be terrifying and painful, but then others think it'll be a relief. I-I guess it just depends on the person's circumstances and how they've approached the subject, really. But I mean...it's terrifying, regardless. For the one suffering and for the people who knew them. Especially if they had things they still wanted to accomplish in life.
[ Those were always the worst cases in his opinion, but he doesn't say it. He takes a small sip of his drink looking back at the other before his eyes look elsewhere. Considering what was said this man before him had definitely died. Here or back home it doesn't matter. He probably doesn't want to hear sorry's either, possibly trying to process it still, so Shigeru will just let that silence between them linger. ]
[Charles can have the bonus minutes to think, anyway, since they're just finishing up with the dishes first. Junpei hums; of course he wants to know, there isn't a single thing avout Charles' life that he would refuse to hear, good or bad. The minutes are for Charles to get into the right mindset, then, he supposes.
The rest of the dishes proceed in silence, very intentional, until Junpei is drying his hands and says,]
Where do you want to do this? Your call.
[Well, ideally not here at the sink, but that's obvious.]
The rest of the dishes proceed in silence, very intentional, until Junpei is drying his hands and says,]
Where do you want to do this? Your call.
[Well, ideally not here at the sink, but that's obvious.]
[ it does help, the minutes that pass in comfortable silence — for him to beat down the instinct to not talk about any of it, the deeply ingrained feeling that all it's going to do is show just how inadequate he is in every way —
but he promised. he promised, and he wants to trust that even if he's inadequate and flawed and just not enough, at least he'll be enough for junpei just like this. ]
Right, [ he says and runs a hand through his hair. ]
Right, let's... come on.
[ instead of answering, he takes junpei's hand and tugs him along into the bedroom, pulls him down to sit next to him on the bed, still holding his hand in his. ]
This isn't really how I thought we'd be doing this, [ he says with a half-smile, meaning taking his shirt off, that is — not that him having his undershirt on has stopped them from sleeping together, really, but it's the principle of the thing. ]
Wanna help? [ not for sexy reasons, but mostly so that he doesn't feel so — like this is a necessary evil to get through. ]
but he promised. he promised, and he wants to trust that even if he's inadequate and flawed and just not enough, at least he'll be enough for junpei just like this. ]
Right, [ he says and runs a hand through his hair. ]
Right, let's... come on.
[ instead of answering, he takes junpei's hand and tugs him along into the bedroom, pulls him down to sit next to him on the bed, still holding his hand in his. ]
This isn't really how I thought we'd be doing this, [ he says with a half-smile, meaning taking his shirt off, that is — not that him having his undershirt on has stopped them from sleeping together, really, but it's the principle of the thing. ]
Wanna help? [ not for sexy reasons, but mostly so that he doesn't feel so — like this is a necessary evil to get through. ]
[ it is perhaps unsurprising that he feels the same — that he too would be content to simply be, and the request to stay earns a simple, easy nod from him. of course he is staying; there's nowhere else he would rather be than here, their heads pressed together.
only, the beeping interrupts the moment — but when octavian explains the reasoning, viktor is once again struck speechless; that octavian had done that, to know when exactly viktor should be back... it is at once sweet and so very on brand for octavian to do that his chest feels full, not in the horrifying way of his death but with a ballooning emotion the size of an entire planet, warm and buoyant, and viktor stares at octavian for a moment and thinks, i adore you —
instead of saying that, though, before octavian can extract himself from their half-embrace, viktor leans in to press a soft kiss to his lips, hoping it says everything that would take him hours to put to words, and more.
and then, pulling back, ]
Let's go turn it off. The sound is... grating.
only, the beeping interrupts the moment — but when octavian explains the reasoning, viktor is once again struck speechless; that octavian had done that, to know when exactly viktor should be back... it is at once sweet and so very on brand for octavian to do that his chest feels full, not in the horrifying way of his death but with a ballooning emotion the size of an entire planet, warm and buoyant, and viktor stares at octavian for a moment and thinks, i adore you —
instead of saying that, though, before octavian can extract himself from their half-embrace, viktor leans in to press a soft kiss to his lips, hoping it says everything that would take him hours to put to words, and more.
and then, pulling back, ]
Let's go turn it off. The sound is... grating.
"Just" death, [ he repeats, with a tone that's somehow amused and desperate at once. if it could be like that, that'd be easy, wouldn't it? just death. yes, death happens to everyone, and yet it's hardly equal. ]
No, it is not the same, here. And what do you think of that?
No, it is not the same, here. And what do you think of that?
No...its, um. I-i dunno. Its weird. It doesn't seem right that people come back.
[He'd lost so many people without that chance so something about it happening here kind of stung in a weird way. He doesn't think anyone he's close to here had died and returned, at least not that he was aware of, so he's not really sure how he'd feel if they did. It was weird enough when it happened to him.]
...I guess its good, though, to get another chance. I-i don't really know how to explain it.
[He'd lost so many people without that chance so something about it happening here kind of stung in a weird way. He doesn't think anyone he's close to here had died and returned, at least not that he was aware of, so he's not really sure how he'd feel if they did. It was weird enough when it happened to him.]
...I guess its good, though, to get another chance. I-i don't really know how to explain it.
[ in hindsight, perhaps he should have been expecting this. oh, he expects jayce, of course, and caitlyn and vi — two people he never had the time or possibility to get to know properly back home, but who he counts as important to him, now. but this? no, he doesn't think heimerdinger is here out of concern for him.
and honestly? after the emotional exhaustion after trying to process his death and all the feelings attached to it, the idea that he might be asked to talk about it not through how he feels but rather through logic and only logic — well. that's a nicer thought. ]
Professor Heimerdinger, [ he says in greeting, nodding his head as he works on something that seems like an intricate metal paneling. ]
I assume Jayce told you. [ there is no thank you for the, hm, well-wishing; this is the state of affairs, and it all happened the way it did, whether he wanted it to or not. ]
and honestly? after the emotional exhaustion after trying to process his death and all the feelings attached to it, the idea that he might be asked to talk about it not through how he feels but rather through logic and only logic — well. that's a nicer thought. ]
Professor Heimerdinger, [ he says in greeting, nodding his head as he works on something that seems like an intricate metal paneling. ]
I assume Jayce told you. [ there is no thank you for the, hm, well-wishing; this is the state of affairs, and it all happened the way it did, whether he wanted it to or not. ]
[ oh, he's sitting down — not what he intended, but it doesn't look like he's getting out of this conversation now, either. so he sighs, and listens, and takes a sip of his drink to avoid having to say anything for a moment.
he thought he knew how he feels about death — thought he knew it once, then thought he knew it again... only to find out, here, that none of it means anything at all. that whatever he feels — there is always a choice, he'd told jayce once, except it now seems that he doesn't have one; not here, not back home. ]
You could say that about everything, [ he says finally, ] That it depends on the person. On their circumstances. And yet, death is the same for everyone. You're gone, whether you want to or not, and all that's left is whatever imprint you've left behind, deep or shallow.
[ a pause. ] Or so it should be. Not so here. [ or even back home, but he's trying not to think about that — ]
he thought he knew how he feels about death — thought he knew it once, then thought he knew it again... only to find out, here, that none of it means anything at all. that whatever he feels — there is always a choice, he'd told jayce once, except it now seems that he doesn't have one; not here, not back home. ]
You could say that about everything, [ he says finally, ] That it depends on the person. On their circumstances. And yet, death is the same for everyone. You're gone, whether you want to or not, and all that's left is whatever imprint you've left behind, deep or shallow.
[ a pause. ] Or so it should be. Not so here. [ or even back home, but he's trying not to think about that — ]
[The alarm continues to beep at them from nearby, and it is so grating, and yet Octavian too is content to spend another few moments looking at Viktor and enjoying his presence. He tilts his head to return Viktor's kiss, lingering in the moment to relish it a bit longer. He's missed this, too, and while after a week he feels like he has too many things backed up that he's wanted to tell Viktor or show Viktor, this kiss and the unspoken words behind it are somehow precisely enough.
But the sound is terrible, and so he draws away but takes Viktor's hand, come join him while he moves over to the table where he's left his tablet beeping away. That gets turned off, and Octavian looks over at the workshop; he was doing something earlier, but... it can wait.
Actually,] Are you hungry?
[He must be, mustn't he— Octavian doesn't know how it goes to be brought back from death in this place, but he would assume that the body is not restored at its full capacity or given a nice meal, so. Surely, there's a hunger.
And Sterling had always cooked, whenever he'd been in some kind of state, ill or otherwise, so instinct makes him want to do that now, for Viktor. As such,] I will make you something.
But the sound is terrible, and so he draws away but takes Viktor's hand, come join him while he moves over to the table where he's left his tablet beeping away. That gets turned off, and Octavian looks over at the workshop; he was doing something earlier, but... it can wait.
Actually,] Are you hungry?
[He must be, mustn't he— Octavian doesn't know how it goes to be brought back from death in this place, but he would assume that the body is not restored at its full capacity or given a nice meal, so. Surely, there's a hunger.
And Sterling had always cooked, whenever he'd been in some kind of state, ill or otherwise, so instinct makes him want to do that now, for Viktor. As such,] I will make you something.
[ perhaps one day, he will speak the words aloud instead of letting his actions speak for him — but for now, it seems octavian has no trouble hearing him regardless. he spends a few seconds simply appreciating this quiet understanding between them, the knowledge that it doesn't matter what they say or if they say anything at all, they both know what matters... and then he is pulled after octavian as he makes his way to finally silence the incessant beeping.
the question is unexpected, but sparks a realisation that yes, he is hungry; his body is bad at signals like this, or perhaps it is something he's brought on himself after years and years of bad habits in sleeping and eating — but right now, his body, perhaps due to its recent resurrection, is quite clear in its message.
and so, with a small smile that warms his entire expression, ] Thank you.
[ once again, the words mean more than one thing: not thanks simply for this, offering to cook for him, but also for everything else; for caring, for being here, for asking him to stay. ]
the question is unexpected, but sparks a realisation that yes, he is hungry; his body is bad at signals like this, or perhaps it is something he's brought on himself after years and years of bad habits in sleeping and eating — but right now, his body, perhaps due to its recent resurrection, is quite clear in its message.
and so, with a small smile that warms his entire expression, ] Thank you.
[ once again, the words mean more than one thing: not thanks simply for this, offering to cook for him, but also for everything else; for caring, for being here, for asking him to stay. ]
[It's not as though Altius thought Charles wasn't being sincere when he offered, but the response certainly confirms it solidly.]
Is today doable?
[As soon as possible, preferably. He has to keep moving, or... something might catch up with him.]
Is today doable?
[As soon as possible, preferably. He has to keep moving, or... something might catch up with him.]
[Junpei lets Charles lead them to the bed and sits, ready to wait as long as he needs. Not that it seems to be very long at all, and he turns to face Charles completely with a little chuckle— definitely not for sexy reasons, he gets that, but he's not going to act like this is something either of them have to be nervous about.
They promised, so whatever it is, Junpei isn't going to turn away. If adding even a little levity to this kind of thing is possible, he's all for it.]
Yeah, for sure.
[After he leans in to press a kiss to Charles' cheek first, warm and fond and here, importantly. Then he sits back and gestures; Charles has all those layers, so just let him know where to start.]
They promised, so whatever it is, Junpei isn't going to turn away. If adding even a little levity to this kind of thing is possible, he's all for it.]
Yeah, for sure.
[After he leans in to press a kiss to Charles' cheek first, warm and fond and here, importantly. Then he sits back and gestures; Charles has all those layers, so just let him know where to start.]
[Ah, and his smile alone is enough for Octavian; he wants to bottle it somehow, to wrap it up and keep it in his pocket and remind himself, whenever it becomes necessary, that yes— he has been happy.
So he leans in to draw Viktor close again, to kiss him on the forehead. Then, slightly apologetic,] We will have to go up to the house.
[Which is, hm, forty feet from the workshop at best? But it's still more walking, when he would like to wrap Viktor up himself and let him rest. Unfortunately the workshop does not have a kitchen, and while he would absolutely cook a meal over a Bunsen burner, the food is all in the house. The food is also whatever eclectic pantry stock he's gathered in his quest to eat things, but listen, he'll make something worth eating out of it. It's the art of the scrounge.
Either way, he puts his tablet back on the table and leads them back to the door; he has no interest in anyone else but Viktor tonight, so the tablet stays here. Then it's out and into the house, and he brings Viktor over to the couch rather than one of the high-backed armchairs, so he can lie down. He should lie down. Ahem.]
What do you like to eat?
So he leans in to draw Viktor close again, to kiss him on the forehead. Then, slightly apologetic,] We will have to go up to the house.
[Which is, hm, forty feet from the workshop at best? But it's still more walking, when he would like to wrap Viktor up himself and let him rest. Unfortunately the workshop does not have a kitchen, and while he would absolutely cook a meal over a Bunsen burner, the food is all in the house. The food is also whatever eclectic pantry stock he's gathered in his quest to eat things, but listen, he'll make something worth eating out of it. It's the art of the scrounge.
Either way, he puts his tablet back on the table and leads them back to the door; he has no interest in anyone else but Viktor tonight, so the tablet stays here. Then it's out and into the house, and he brings Viktor over to the couch rather than one of the high-backed armchairs, so he can lie down. He should lie down. Ahem.]
What do you like to eat?
[ Shigeru is sorry but this is such a heavy topic!! He frowns and shakes his head. ] I guess the result will always be the same. But what's left behind isn't just an imprint. It's proof that you lived and mattered to people too. Deep or shallow, the people who care will remember you at your best and your worst. [ Shigeru stares at his glass for a second or two. ]
I know here it's...not permanent, people come back, but that doesn't mean people should have to go through it at all if-if something can be done about it. I can't imagine dying over and over again just to-to get brought back. [ He grips his glass his gloves creaking with the action. ]
It's just too cruel.
[ An unending cycle of living in the moment until you die again? Shigeru can't imagine. ]
I know here it's...not permanent, people come back, but that doesn't mean people should have to go through it at all if-if something can be done about it. I can't imagine dying over and over again just to-to get brought back. [ He grips his glass his gloves creaking with the action. ]
It's just too cruel.
[ An unending cycle of living in the moment until you die again? Shigeru can't imagine. ]
[ as junpei pulls back from kissing his cheek, charles smiles at him with all the love in the world — once again, this is an excellent time to simply look at him for a moment and wonder just how he managed to get this lucky... but, right. the shirt. ]
Thanks, love.
[ what's also lucky is the fact that he's taken to wearing simply his polo shirt and the tank top under it when they are home — and so, instead of his maximum of four layers, there are only two, now. he takes junpei's hands in his and gently places them at the hem of his shirt; it's easy enough to push both shirts off at once, really, but he's leaving that choice up to junpei.
in any case, whether they do it one shirt at a time or no, there is nothing immediately obvious for why exactly he has so adamantly kept at least his undershirt on at all times... at least like this, with them facing each other. ]
Thanks, love.
[ what's also lucky is the fact that he's taken to wearing simply his polo shirt and the tank top under it when they are home — and so, instead of his maximum of four layers, there are only two, now. he takes junpei's hands in his and gently places them at the hem of his shirt; it's easy enough to push both shirts off at once, really, but he's leaving that choice up to junpei.
in any case, whether they do it one shirt at a time or no, there is nothing immediately obvious for why exactly he has so adamantly kept at least his undershirt on at all times... at least like this, with them facing each other. ]
[ well — either he's really eager to go, or there's something else. as a master of evasive words and actions, charles thinks maybe, maybe there's something to the way he's speaking so bluntly... but maybe it's just his style. that could easily be it, too. best not read too much into it. ]
sure. meet me at the entrance to pessiria forest in... uh, is half an hour too soon? an hour?
sure. meet me at the entrance to pessiria forest in... uh, is half an hour too soon? an hour?
Uh, [ says charles, intelligibly, and looks down at the book, still open there on the ground in front of him. ]
The read-out-a-spell kind...?
[ yeah, this is his answer. it's a good thing he's only researching for a specific spell instead of broadly trying to learn, otherwise it might be bad times for aldrip. ]
The read-out-a-spell kind...?
[ yeah, this is his answer. it's a good thing he's only researching for a specific spell instead of broadly trying to learn, otherwise it might be bad times for aldrip. ]
Why don't I try for 45?
[Just some lame joking ha ha :) He's fine. He's fine because there is no other option.
He is so fine, in fact, that he won't even arrive precisely on time; he approaches the forest a few minutes vaguely early, his distant gaze mostly on the foliage between moments of glancing about for Charles, hands in his pockets. Whether the detective knows what he looks like or not, he shouldn't be hard to guess as being the man in question; he's dressed in appropriately for a hike that he clearly doesn't want to be cold for, if the jacket and earmuffs are any indication, carrying only a small shoulder bag unsuited to carry much but a drink and few snacks. Admittedly, he should have broken the new boots in...]
[Just some lame joking ha ha :) He's fine. He's fine because there is no other option.
He is so fine, in fact, that he won't even arrive precisely on time; he approaches the forest a few minutes vaguely early, his distant gaze mostly on the foliage between moments of glancing about for Charles, hands in his pockets. Whether the detective knows what he looks like or not, he shouldn't be hard to guess as being the man in question; he's dressed in appropriately for a hike that he clearly doesn't want to be cold for, if the jacket and earmuffs are any indication, carrying only a small shoulder bag unsuited to carry much but a drink and few snacks. Admittedly, he should have broken the new boots in...]
45 is aces, mate.
[ charles, after making sure to leave a message about where he's off to (and also make sure there's dinner in the fridge in case he's late, because otherwise his boyfriend will just eat a sandwich and call it a day and that's not dinner, but he digresses), makes it to the rendezvous point in exactly forty-two minutes, seeing how there's no conveniently placed mirrors nearby to cut his travel time short.
he's dressed, well, not at all differently from his usual: black trousers more suited for walking around town than hiking, a red polo shirt, a bomber jacket and a black overcoat thrown on top. all in all, he doesn't look at all like someone who's prepared to hike through potentially dangerous woods and fields, except maybe for the backpack slung over his shoulder. ]
Cheers, [ he calls out brightly as he sees zekarion, waving for good measure as he bounces closer. ] Good to see you in person. So, ready to brave the wildlife?
[ charles, after making sure to leave a message about where he's off to (and also make sure there's dinner in the fridge in case he's late, because otherwise his boyfriend will just eat a sandwich and call it a day and that's not dinner, but he digresses), makes it to the rendezvous point in exactly forty-two minutes, seeing how there's no conveniently placed mirrors nearby to cut his travel time short.
he's dressed, well, not at all differently from his usual: black trousers more suited for walking around town than hiking, a red polo shirt, a bomber jacket and a black overcoat thrown on top. all in all, he doesn't look at all like someone who's prepared to hike through potentially dangerous woods and fields, except maybe for the backpack slung over his shoulder. ]
Cheers, [ he calls out brightly as he sees zekarion, waving for good measure as he bounces closer. ] Good to see you in person. So, ready to brave the wildlife?
[Altius has done enough looking around on the network to recognize Charles on sight; though for a brief moment he wonders if he's really about to go hiking in that, he thinks—ah, yes, ghosts probably don't have to worry about sweating and chafing and that sort of thing, do they.]
Likewise, [Altius answers, managing a smile and a smooth, friendly tone like he does for nearly everyone he meets. As far as being ready, the answer is yes, but he instead says,] I'm ready to find out, in any case.
[It's a sincere question when he continues, gesturing halfway with one hand such that it won't be awkward whether the answer is yes or no:]
Should I offer to shake your hand?
Likewise, [Altius answers, managing a smile and a smooth, friendly tone like he does for nearly everyone he meets. As far as being ready, the answer is yes, but he instead says,] I'm ready to find out, in any case.
[It's a sincere question when he continues, gesturing halfway with one hand such that it won't be awkward whether the answer is yes or no:]
Should I offer to shake your hand?
[ somehow, it is not the initial kiss but rather that second press of lips against his forehead that makes viktor feel like maybe his body has come back wrong, that what he is is ready to melt into a pile right here, right now — but, no, it's just octavian being impossibly sweet and lovely, and him having somehow forgotten during that week of non-existence how it feels, to be close to him like this.
the slightest edge of an apology in his voice makes viktor raise his brows slightly and say, dryly but gently, ] I'm not an invalid, Octavian.
[ dying seems to have brought him back to the baseline he'd been after claude's treatment — certainly better than he'd been upon arrival, at first, and what strangeness he is feeling after dying seems to be solely located inside his mind, not elsewhere in his body.
in any case, walking the short distance isn't terrible; he walked the whole way here from his lab, after all. what is worse than that is the knowledge that he would much rather pull octavian to sit next to him on the couch than let him go to the kitchen, but he seems adamant about cooking, and viktor is hungry.
so he sits down, leans against the cushions and says, ] Whatever you want to make. I'm not picky.
[ and that is true — he has a sneaking suspicion octavian would shudder at the sight of what jericho sells in the undercity. for a few seconds, he laments over the fact he can never see that happen, because he can imagine the face octavian would make, and it is very cute, imaginary as it is. ]
the slightest edge of an apology in his voice makes viktor raise his brows slightly and say, dryly but gently, ] I'm not an invalid, Octavian.
[ dying seems to have brought him back to the baseline he'd been after claude's treatment — certainly better than he'd been upon arrival, at first, and what strangeness he is feeling after dying seems to be solely located inside his mind, not elsewhere in his body.
in any case, walking the short distance isn't terrible; he walked the whole way here from his lab, after all. what is worse than that is the knowledge that he would much rather pull octavian to sit next to him on the couch than let him go to the kitchen, but he seems adamant about cooking, and viktor is hungry.
so he sits down, leans against the cushions and says, ] Whatever you want to make. I'm not picky.
[ and that is true — he has a sneaking suspicion octavian would shudder at the sight of what jericho sells in the undercity. for a few seconds, he laments over the fact he can never see that happen, because he can imagine the face octavian would make, and it is very cute, imaginary as it is. ]
[ rafal gives him a flat look. ]
I meant, what were you attempting? Elemental magic? Conjuration? A tracking spell?
I meant, what were you attempting? Elemental magic? Conjuration? A tracking spell?
[Octavian huffs, amused, and presses another kiss to Viktor's temple. Much as he relishes Viktor's sass, takes it as a sign he's feeling better than he was, please—]
You died. It was grueling. I would not have you hike back and forth for my whims.
[This said mostly as they walk back to the house; Octavian is, of course, keenly aware of the discomfort of literally dying, and as it happens, the strange detachment of finding oneself in a body after not inhabiting one for a time. Any length of time, from a week to years and years, even the handful of hours he needs to spend letting his summoned vessel recharge its magic. It's strange and disorienting, so if he's inclined to fuss over Viktor more than usual, well— he died! He gets to rest!
Specifically, he gets to rest on the couch, while Octavian runs fond fingers through his hair as he passes said couch to the kitchen. This is a small house; he isn't going very far. From behind Viktor comes the sounds of cabinets opening and closing, a pot being moved... and moved again, while he tries to remember the steps of cooking in order.
He was good at this, give him a minute. Hmm.]
Something simple. [This is a given; he doesn't keep much in the way of fresh meat or produce, given he much prefers to go out and be given prepared food when he wants to experience eating. But he's got, like, pasta? It's going to be noodles. He sets a pot to boiling and then immediately leaves it, to come and lean on the back of the couch and poke two fingers into Viktor's shoulder and 'walk' them up to the side of his neck. Hey. He really missed this.]
How do you feel now?
You died. It was grueling. I would not have you hike back and forth for my whims.
[This said mostly as they walk back to the house; Octavian is, of course, keenly aware of the discomfort of literally dying, and as it happens, the strange detachment of finding oneself in a body after not inhabiting one for a time. Any length of time, from a week to years and years, even the handful of hours he needs to spend letting his summoned vessel recharge its magic. It's strange and disorienting, so if he's inclined to fuss over Viktor more than usual, well— he died! He gets to rest!
Specifically, he gets to rest on the couch, while Octavian runs fond fingers through his hair as he passes said couch to the kitchen. This is a small house; he isn't going very far. From behind Viktor comes the sounds of cabinets opening and closing, a pot being moved... and moved again, while he tries to remember the steps of cooking in order.
He was good at this, give him a minute. Hmm.]
Something simple. [This is a given; he doesn't keep much in the way of fresh meat or produce, given he much prefers to go out and be given prepared food when he wants to experience eating. But he's got, like, pasta? It's going to be noodles. He sets a pot to boiling and then immediately leaves it, to come and lean on the back of the couch and poke two fingers into Viktor's shoulder and 'walk' them up to the side of his neck. Hey. He really missed this.]
How do you feel now?
Page 2 of 7