[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.]
no subject
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?