[funnily enough in the space of that pause to be upset viktor is doing something similar, closing his eyes and just dealing with how close they had been to an easy go, just this once. had he not tried to follow that warning about risks and recklessness? going into lumenwood was about finding a safer, proper way.
which can't be even remotely easy either, as it turns out. he's so tired of decaying. he's far more tired of subjecting pal to witnessing it.]
You won't. You understand your world and it's people better than I ever could. I trust your judgment, Palamedes.
[at the very least he can offer a pointless smile to the screen, one pal can't see of course but grateful nonetheless to him. sweet man, watching his step when so few others ever even thought to bother.]
I agree. He made a good point when we spoke, about dream logic ruling over our forms here and how what we deeply believe or know about our bodies making up said body's reality. If that is true the mental realm may be what we need to focus on.
[haha. getting a little too close to uh, emotional lobotomy territory again. whoops. yes, he is thinking a little along the lines of what if i did something to make my brain believe my lungs were fine, but at least he has the good grace to consider other options first!]
There's still making lungs for transplant. Maybe the process would be sufficiently startling enough while still being less... reckless.
[It's a real shame this solution too is so allegedly fleeting. Palamedes takes God for a liar, and while he cannot guess the reason, he believes in the solidity of the pattern. Cytherea; Lyctorhood; nudges and pokes and subtle manipulations to shut up and stop asking questions. He reasons Viktor returning for more "treatments" will only end uncomfortably for Viktor and therefore himself, for the obvious reasons; it's a shame.
He supposes he can be polite in public, though, in exchange for this treatment. Make eye contact the next time he visits God's study (which he does not think will be for some time, but still).
He sighs at his omni, hanging his head over it for a moment with his eyes shut, still tired, but feeling less erratic than a minute ago. Alright.]
My judgment is always be on your guard.
This isn't a dream, but of course, the 'imposing our will' theory. I've discussed it with a few people. I'm not sure it works as simply as wanting something badly enough, [or Viktor would surely be healed already?] but assuming it's true, there's already proof it isn't entirely immutable. We keep the scars we get here, which hardly have anything to do with my personal picture of myself, at least.
[He's thinking of the scars down low around the joints of his ankles, where Paul had helped him cut out bloodstones ages ago, before he'd died at sea and which still show precisely where they were the first time, an entire body ago. Perhaps there's merit in Viktor's hypothesis about the mental realm in a different sense; that day had required an amount of mutual trust that, in Palamedes' opinion, cemented his and Paul's friendship.
Maybe. Maybe.]
Please don't aim to shock yourself into better health, I'm liable to pass out and then you'll have to roll me under a table someplace. I've been honing my surgical skills, though. For you. ❤️
[And for the locals who need it, but he sees an opportunity to flirt about medical practice and he takes it.]
[funnily enough being on his guard for palamedes' sake is easier than being careful otherwise. getting himself into some trouble is one thing but pal? that is an unacceptable outcome. the very last thing he wants is to let some mistake end in pal suffering for it.
so yes, he can be on his guard. gladly.]
My hope is that if this is even remotely in the mental realm that a transplant will cover both the physical aspect and the 'experience,' so to speak. Surely living through such a surgery will cement some permanence in the mind, as scars from this place are also an experience our mind may translate into reality regardless of the malleable nature of our forms.
[so. not a dream but an understanding, perhaps. pal's next statement has him smiling again despite himself, letting the fond feeling carry away some of his unease, the vague sense of guilt for bringing this to pal's doorstep. infact.]
I very much hope you are not still elbow deep in viscera when sending this. It makes the emote usage a touch unnerving.
And I do apologize for all of this. It was never my intention to bring trouble to your door.
It had better hold, it's going to take hours to do it properly. And that's after figuring out the ins and outs of it in the first place.
[Because Palamedes has never done a lung transplant, and also, Viktor is undoubtedly going to do something strange and technological that will require him to very possibly be awake, during? Something to look forward to...]
I'll have you know, I left the work floor to talk to you in peace. There aren't any hearts in sight.
[Note that this is not, as it happens, saying he washed all the gore off his hands and arms. That's just a consequence of working in this place, although he does get neat gloves? It's something.
There's still viscera stuck to the corner of his omni. Elsewhere, where Viktor doesn't have to see it, he picks at it with his gloved fingernail, to try and get it off. It gives him something to focus on while he thinks of how to reply to that last part of the message, since - well. Of course, Viktor has done nothing wrong, that goes without saying. But there's no denying that learning about these events has, hm, troubled his early afternoon lunch hour? Hmm.]
Don't apologize; you're my priority. [Hmm!] Pick up real quick?
[he knows viktor so well, there will probably be need for him to be awake to see his chest open. this is going to be peak normal couple activity. the inherit homoeroticism of holding a man's lungs in your hand, etc.]
You are brilliant and a quick learner, I have very little doubt you will be a master of the craft quickly enough.
[so frank about that. just pure, genuine yeah, pal can do this. it's pal, his mind inspires viktor frequently and no one is better suited for this, in viktor's humble opinion. aside from all the conflict of interest stuff, but that's for someone else to worry about. viktor isn't.
he's considering how to answer about how that doesn't tell viktor whether he still has viscera hands when the rest of the message comes in, and viktor huffs a fond breath before picking up.]
Something you wished to say that a long series of emotes could not? [he asks, a touch softly. still a little guilty, still a lot fond, vaguely concerned about this new mess they've tripped into.]
[Aw, so much faith in him. Palamedes can't help but smirk at that, yes he is very good, thanks for always gassing him up, it's sweet. The act of replacing Viktor's lungs is a thing that makes him nervous beyond comprehension, with a generous helping of dread-sick heaviness in his gut when he considers the real possibility that it just won't work, and Viktor will— well, he can't bring himself to consider past 'Viktor will,' so that's where he's managed to put himself.
It's going fine. He's doing a lot of practical study, here with the ministers, so there's that. At least darkblood is universally useful in transfusions? Eh? See, his donation habit bears fruit.
As his omni rings, waiting for Viktor, he makes a cursory check of the corridor he's tucked himself into an alcove of, just to be sure no one is lurking around eavesdropping or within earshot in general. Not that he's embarrassed to be calling Viktor in the middle of the day to be saccharine, but - well, the day of the grapes... The other ministers rib him about the day of the grapes, still.
So, privacy. He hums as he puts the omni up to his ear like a real phone, leaning back into his little hideaway.]
Yes. Hi. I love you. I wanted to say it out loud.
[And yet it's still over the dang phone, so rest assured, he will say it plenty later, at lunch and at home. He says it low, despite being thoroughly alone in this corridor, because it's for Viktor. If his omni had a cord attached he would be twirling it, alas.]
So: we'll figure all of this out.
[A beat.]
And I'm sorry, I didn't wash off the viscera before I called. [love him]
[viktor's just out here in broad daylight, surrounded by blood mist and weird glow flowers and whatever else fills up lumenwood on a good day. there's probably not a lot of people around, it's not exactly a social hotspot, so viktor sees no reason to huddle close around his omni.
he might have if he knew what pal was going to say, a turning off speaker sort of situation, but instead he is. hm. he is a lot of things. flushing deeply, is one of them. chest tight in a heady mix of fear and elation, is another.
it's not a big deal, he tells himself. it's really not even a surprise, logically, it's ridiculous to be this effected by it. (except for those sad, ridiculous sort of thoughts like ah, has anyone ever told him they loved him? he certainly doesn't remember the last time, if there was one. so. maybe a little meaningful. maybe a little profound, like pal tends to be with his easy affection, his tenderness.)
ah.
he can be normal about this, he tells himself. he can also run a hand down his face and muffle a laugh at how he was this close to typing it over to pal a moment ago before he talked himself out of it with perfect logic that seems so pointless now.]
You- [of course he didn't wash the viscera. he is covered in someone else's blood and telling viktor he loves him, because that is pal and viktor adores him for it despite all the sense in his head.] That is disturbing, Palamedes.
[said too softly to really make much of an impact. a soft breath and he manages,] I love you too. I- truly I frighten myself with it, sometimes. You are a person very easy to love.
[god. the sap is going to kill him sooner than the evil necromancer god or the shitty lungs.] And I am sorry, truly. We'll be careful and work this out.
Edited (you are a very person is true i guess) 2022-05-28 03:27 (UTC)
[There's a flutter of nerves after he says it, while he waits for Viktor to say - well, anything. Palamedes is fairly certain, after everything, that Viktor loves him, but the few heartbeats of waiting still take a small age. Viktor's little muffled laugh is cute, and his disturbing viscera comment makes Palamedes laugh aloud in return - what! Necromancer! - and ah, there it is.
He, too, can be normal about this. Normal about Viktor saying it frightens him, which squeezes something in his chest that makes him want to reach out and pull him close; maybe he should have waited until he was in front of him, after all. Hindsight.]
I told you, don't apologize. There's nothing I have to forgive you for.
[He means that, of course, he doesn't lie. Anything that might ring disapproving is only overreacting, which, mmm, he can work on that. In the end, Viktor hasn't done anything that merits him apologizing so much, but Palamedes loves him enough to remind him every time.
He thinks about being 'very easy to love,' a thing that drips a steady warmth through him even more than it might normally, because he knows what kind of life Viktor has lived; he doesn't think 'easy' and 'love' have ever been so close to each other for him before. A shame; Palamedes thinks about Viktor, his intellect and his humor and the fire that burns in him for the unlucky and the downtrodden, and he wonders why everyone else is not in love with him as well.]
Let me go wash up. I'll leave early— I want to see you. More than I want to measure intestines. Where are you now?
[Did he get the stick food. He'll have a free hand to hold, stick food rules.]
Please wash your omni thoroughly as well. [his tone is dry, maybe struggling a little to be against the waves of fondness. he feels... well, elated, in a way that makes him feel young and foolish in a way that should be a little mortifying but instead is warm.
he stands himself, drags over his crutch and begins moving, on the look out for a place he probably saw on the way that he is pretty sure sells some sort of stick food to feed the hungry passing ministers.] I'm close, I'll pick up the lunch I promised and meet you there? I wouldn't want to miss the faces your colleagues will make seeing me again.
[he's chosen to find the whole thing hilarious instead of deeply embarrassing.
(and, if he's being honest, he doesn't hate the ah. making it very clear pal is spoken for. the idea of pal ever straying or betraying him is absolutely laughable but viktor is a zaunite at heart, deeply territorial of the good things in his life. pal happens to be the best thing in his life, so perhaps it isn't so terrible his coworkers now are aware of that previously stated spoken for factor.)]
Hmm, maybe. [No, he'll wash the omni, he will. He'll definitely put more effort into cleaning it than wiping it on his sleeve, which may have been his first plan. But oh, fun, Viktor is coming to scare his gaggle of timid minister friends again, that's another round of 'no, he didn't mean anything by it' Palamedes can put off until tomorrow, because he's definitely not going to stop him. He scoffs, though.]
Now who's scaring the wildlife? They're easily startled, for people who are undoubtedly covered in blood as we speak.
[Or: be nice, but don't not come around to pick him up and spook the ministers.]
I'll see you soon.
[He'll even go wash up, as promised, and shuck off his minister robes and leave them to be washed by someone else on wash duty who is not him, thank god. Luckily the ministers' provided duds are blood-proof, and so it's mostly picking off the omni that he has to spend his time on while he loiters in the foyer of the Lumenarium waiting for Viktor. The handful of ministers milling about doing other tasks are also waiting for Viktor, but with the occasional wary glance at the main entrance doors. Palamedes pretends not to notice.]
I am sure they will be fine. [said so mildly. surely, if they aren't lusting over pal or something they have nothing to feel weird about? obviously. yes, he realizes he shouldn't find spooking the blood minister wildlife this amusing but what can you do, really.
he almost says something about love again but decides just to save it, purchasing their lunch and heading for the lumenarium. he's been remaining steadfastly ambivalent to his lungs, too burnt from their time with the berries to revel in the clear feeling and the new strength, but he can't help but notice how much easier the walk is. how much nice. maybe things like he can kiss pal senseless again without keeping an eye on his own limits.
ah. if only these moments were ever not so god damned complicated, emphasis on the god damned in this case.
viktor smiles when he sees pal, ignoring his poor coworkers to approach and yes, can anyone blame him for a deep kiss in greeting? not with i love you still on his lips. he doesn't really have a free hand between the crutch and bag to cup his jaw or grasp his arm, sadly, but after a moment he pulls only a little back.]
Hello. [this has been a whiplash of the day. for the moment he can focus on it being hard not to smile though.] You look suitably unbloodied, thank you.
[One poor minister playing with fire has wandered over to talk to Palamedes as he picks the last bits of grime off his omni, and so Palamedes turns to see Viktor after the minister makes a split-second grim face; Viktor's reputation among the coworkers. They scuttle away just in time for this entirely welcome and overtly showy and possessive kiss, Palamedes' hands making up the difference in cupping Viktor's face. The other minister is forgotten, skittered away to the safety in numbers of the rest of them, now studiously pretending not to glance at the saccharine PDA happening in their very foyer.
This is a place of business. A place of healing. They are sullying it with their distracting kissing, to be sure. Oh well.]
I'd hate to ruin lunch with errant corruption, [he says, like being covered in blood and who knows what else is just a normal thing and not the problem. That's how it is.]
Where are we going? Are you enjoying the many sights and smells of Lumenwood enough to stay here for lunch, or are we heading for the lamp?
[good, they have taught the ministers well. or maybe more viktor has, pal is mostly innocent in this unintentional war started over one illtimed grape, but that's just the nature of the trench. probably. either way viktor tries not to take some satisfaction in their scuttling away and fails.]
I think the blood mist is, in fact, not an enjoyable backdrop to eating any food. Let us go to the lamp. I wouldn't mind eating at the docks, though we could head elsewhere. [pal has maybe a few more issues with the sea than viktor, who still finds it a comfort more than anything.
he leans in for another kiss, passing the bag of stick food to pal so he can free that hand for holding pal's.] Now, let us see... ah yes, should I tease you for informing me of your feelings over a sudden phone call or because you were covered in blood? [the softness in his glance sort of makes both seem more like endearments, so. hm.]
[His poor, poor coworkers. Palamedes gives the others only a brief glance when he's through kissing Viktor, like ah? Did someone want to ask him something? No? Alright, guys.
He does give them a little wave, before accepting food in one hand and Viktor's hand in the other, and turning them back towards the main entrance. Very fortuitous that the Lumenarium has its own lamp, although, hm - nearly every time he goes near the docks or the sea something horrible happens.
He'll try not to be superstitious. With a one-shoulder shrug, he says,] The docks are fine; you're cute when you get to look at the boats.
[And for fun, he actually thinks about which think Viktor should tease him over. They're both valid options, so good job to himself, but:]
The blood, I think, although you've known I'm a necromancer since we met and so should not be surprised I'd come into some borrowed blood on occasion. ["borrowed"] Do your worst; I love you despite your barbs.
[bye nerds, they can now leave with the ministers un-menaced, viktor huffing in amusement at that assessment of his boat watching.]
Eh, if it helps turn your opinion on the docks at least then I will take it. [this defamation of his character, quite foul.]
I think I might choose the wildcard and pick on you for calling it 'borrowed.' [viktor decides as they approach the lamp, slowing a little to glance at him. kind of wants to kiss him again, this is all an excellent distraction from necromantic gods or whether the healing won't cause another, irritating time loop. he would really rather not have this day marred by another of those.]
... you know I've been thinking of admitting that to you for a time, that I love you. I foolishly convinced myself it would be eh... overbearing. [a sort of snort like yeah, he's kind of an idiot sometimes if left to his own devices.]
[It's too late, local minister thinks Viktor is very cute and precious when he excitedly rambles about boat parts that Palamedes can't understand even a little. He hums, shrugging; he'll defame Viktor's tough and bristly reputation all the way to the docks.
Now, 'borrowed' is fine, but this other thing— Palamedes doesn't point out that talking about their feelings isn't picking on him for borrowed blood at all, actually. But.]
Overbearing? You? Never. [Unless he has a handful of grapes in his pocket, ahem... Palamedes gives him a sideways look, eyebrows raised while that implication sinks in, then he laughs.] I thought we'd established that I like it when you're direct. You didn't have to worry about it.
[Well, he's a little relieved it wasn't fruit that pushed them into saying it; not that that would have spoiled the sentiment, not really. Still.]
Am I going to sound arrogant if I say I totally knew all along? You have a tell.
Only when grapes are involved apparently. [he gets the joke. the grape incident is something he knows he can never live down and kind of doesn't want to anyway.
his lips quirk at that though, at 'direct.'] You are right, as you often are. I was likely trying to rationalize and irrational.
[because the being open and vulnerable thing is a work in progress he usually thinks he's doing quite well at, all things considered. reaching the lamp and he stops though, giving pal quite the look for that claim.]
I do not. What tell? [the nerve, truly. almost like being incredibly gay and all the incredibly romantic things they do are a tell.]
[The grape incident lives in infamy, forever. Bring some nonmagical grapes to the Lumenarium next time just to snack on in front of the ministers, they'll love that. Palamedes snorts, giving him a nudge. Please, sir.]
When did you want to tell me? I must have been doing something impressive.
[You know, as if his phone call wasn't just in the middle of a serious conversation. It's fine, tell him the gossip about himself, he loves to hear it.]
And you do. You make this face, [he wiggles his fingers, A Face that is Made, this isn't purposely vague.] It's a dead giveaway.
[don't tempt him, grapes might be the only common fruit he likes after gorging through paleblood compulsion this month, purely to menace the ministers.]
The last time was when I was telling you I had your back. [he answers that, smile small as he glances over. he tugs him to the lamp then poof, close to the docks. thanks lantern friend, you funky little monsters.] I often think it at small things, really. When you bend your glasses like a madman, for example. When you're concentrating on a book.
[gay. it's like he's in love. the not face gets a face of his own, the other thread mentioned it. the pal is saying/doing something ridiculous face.] That is not a face I make.
[Ah, there's a point for continuing to ruin his glasses. He tugs them to a proper stop once they're through the lamp, to lean in for that kiss delayed terribly by all the Lumenwood mist (not good for kissing outdoors). The noise and... smells... of the docks make for a better backdrop, so before they head all the way down: a kiss, for loving him at the most mundane of times, which is really the best he could ask for.
That said,]
You're making the face right now. [is he. is that the face. or are there many faces, actually, because Palamedes is also in love, and that's just how these things go.] Come on, teach me something about the sea that isn't horrifying.
[It's up to Viktor to mediate Pal vs. Sea... Well, away they go to lunch, content, all things considered.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
which can't be even remotely easy either, as it turns out. he's so tired of decaying. he's far more tired of subjecting pal to witnessing it.]
You won't. You understand your world and it's people better than I ever could. I trust your judgment, Palamedes.
[at the very least he can offer a pointless smile to the screen, one pal can't see of course but grateful nonetheless to him. sweet man, watching his step when so few others ever even thought to bother.]
I agree. He made a good point when we spoke, about dream logic ruling over our forms here and how what we deeply believe or know about our bodies making up said body's reality. If that is true the mental realm may be what we need to focus on.
[haha. getting a little too close to uh, emotional lobotomy territory again. whoops. yes, he is thinking a little along the lines of what if i did something to make my brain believe my lungs were fine, but at least he has the good grace to consider other options first!]
There's still making lungs for transplant. Maybe the process would be sufficiently startling enough while still being less... reckless.
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He supposes he can be polite in public, though, in exchange for this treatment. Make eye contact the next time he visits God's study (which he does not think will be for some time, but still).
He sighs at his omni, hanging his head over it for a moment with his eyes shut, still tired, but feeling less erratic than a minute ago. Alright.]
My judgment is always be on your guard.
This isn't a dream, but of course, the 'imposing our will' theory. I've discussed it with a few people. I'm not sure it works as simply as wanting something badly enough, [or Viktor would surely be healed already?] but assuming it's true, there's already proof it isn't entirely immutable. We keep the scars we get here, which hardly have anything to do with my personal picture of myself, at least.
[He's thinking of the scars down low around the joints of his ankles, where Paul had helped him cut out bloodstones ages ago, before he'd died at sea and which still show precisely where they were the first time, an entire body ago. Perhaps there's merit in Viktor's hypothesis about the mental realm in a different sense; that day had required an amount of mutual trust that, in Palamedes' opinion, cemented his and Paul's friendship.
Maybe. Maybe.]
Please don't aim to shock yourself into better health, I'm liable to pass out and then you'll have to roll me under a table someplace. I've been honing my surgical skills, though. For you. ❤️
[And for the locals who need it, but he sees an opportunity to flirt about medical practice and he takes it.]
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[funnily enough being on his guard for palamedes' sake is easier than being careful otherwise. getting himself into some trouble is one thing but pal? that is an unacceptable outcome. the very last thing he wants is to let some mistake end in pal suffering for it.
so yes, he can be on his guard. gladly.]
My hope is that if this is even remotely in the mental realm that a transplant will cover both the physical aspect and the 'experience,' so to speak. Surely living through such a surgery will cement some permanence in the mind, as scars from this place are also an experience our mind may translate into reality regardless of the malleable nature of our forms.
[so. not a dream but an understanding, perhaps. pal's next statement has him smiling again despite himself, letting the fond feeling carry away some of his unease, the vague sense of guilt for bringing this to pal's doorstep. infact.]
I very much hope you are not still elbow deep in viscera when sending this. It makes the emote usage a touch unnerving.
And I do apologize for all of this. It was never my intention to bring trouble to your door.
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[Because Palamedes has never done a lung transplant, and also, Viktor is undoubtedly going to do something strange and technological that will require him to very possibly be awake, during? Something to look forward to...]
I'll have you know, I left the work floor to talk to you in peace. There aren't any hearts in sight.
[Note that this is not, as it happens, saying he washed all the gore off his hands and arms. That's just a consequence of working in this place, although he does get neat gloves? It's something.
There's still viscera stuck to the corner of his omni. Elsewhere, where Viktor doesn't have to see it, he picks at it with his gloved fingernail, to try and get it off. It gives him something to focus on while he thinks of how to reply to that last part of the message, since - well. Of course, Viktor has done nothing wrong, that goes without saying. But there's no denying that learning about these events has, hm, troubled his early afternoon lunch hour? Hmm.]
Don't apologize; you're my priority. [Hmm!] Pick up real quick?
[Ring ring he is now Calling.......]
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You are brilliant and a quick learner, I have very little doubt you will be a master of the craft quickly enough.
[so frank about that. just pure, genuine yeah, pal can do this. it's pal, his mind inspires viktor frequently and no one is better suited for this, in viktor's humble opinion. aside from all the conflict of interest stuff, but that's for someone else to worry about. viktor isn't.
he's considering how to answer about how that doesn't tell viktor whether he still has viscera hands when the rest of the message comes in, and viktor huffs a fond breath before picking up.]
Something you wished to say that a long series of emotes could not? [he asks, a touch softly. still a little guilty, still a lot fond, vaguely concerned about this new mess they've tripped into.]
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It's going fine. He's doing a lot of practical study, here with the ministers, so there's that. At least darkblood is universally useful in transfusions? Eh? See, his donation habit bears fruit.
As his omni rings, waiting for Viktor, he makes a cursory check of the corridor he's tucked himself into an alcove of, just to be sure no one is lurking around eavesdropping or within earshot in general. Not that he's embarrassed to be calling Viktor in the middle of the day to be saccharine, but - well, the day of the grapes... The other ministers rib him about the day of the grapes, still.
So, privacy. He hums as he puts the omni up to his ear like a real phone, leaning back into his little hideaway.]
Yes. Hi. I love you. I wanted to say it out loud.
[And yet it's still over the dang phone, so rest assured, he will say it plenty later, at lunch and at home. He says it low, despite being thoroughly alone in this corridor, because it's for Viktor. If his omni had a cord attached he would be twirling it, alas.]
So: we'll figure all of this out.
[A beat.]
And I'm sorry, I didn't wash off the viscera before I called. [love him]
no subject
he might have if he knew what pal was going to say, a turning off speaker sort of situation, but instead he is. hm. he is a lot of things. flushing deeply, is one of them. chest tight in a heady mix of fear and elation, is another.
it's not a big deal, he tells himself. it's really not even a surprise, logically, it's ridiculous to be this effected by it. (except for those sad, ridiculous sort of thoughts like ah, has anyone ever told him they loved him? he certainly doesn't remember the last time, if there was one. so. maybe a little meaningful. maybe a little profound, like pal tends to be with his easy affection, his tenderness.)
ah.
he can be normal about this, he tells himself. he can also run a hand down his face and muffle a laugh at how he was this close to typing it over to pal a moment ago before he talked himself out of it with perfect logic that seems so pointless now.]
You- [of course he didn't wash the viscera. he is covered in someone else's blood and telling viktor he loves him, because that is pal and viktor adores him for it despite all the sense in his head.] That is disturbing, Palamedes.
[said too softly to really make much of an impact. a soft breath and he manages,] I love you too. I- truly I frighten myself with it, sometimes. You are a person very easy to love.
[god. the sap is going to kill him sooner than the evil necromancer god or the shitty lungs.] And I am sorry, truly. We'll be careful and work this out.
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He, too, can be normal about this. Normal about Viktor saying it frightens him, which squeezes something in his chest that makes him want to reach out and pull him close; maybe he should have waited until he was in front of him, after all. Hindsight.]
I told you, don't apologize. There's nothing I have to forgive you for.
[He means that, of course, he doesn't lie. Anything that might ring disapproving is only overreacting, which, mmm, he can work on that. In the end, Viktor hasn't done anything that merits him apologizing so much, but Palamedes loves him enough to remind him every time.
He thinks about being 'very easy to love,' a thing that drips a steady warmth through him even more than it might normally, because he knows what kind of life Viktor has lived; he doesn't think 'easy' and 'love' have ever been so close to each other for him before. A shame; Palamedes thinks about Viktor, his intellect and his humor and the fire that burns in him for the unlucky and the downtrodden, and he wonders why everyone else is not in love with him as well.]
Let me go wash up. I'll leave early— I want to see you. More than I want to measure intestines. Where are you now?
[Did he get the stick food. He'll have a free hand to hold, stick food rules.]
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he stands himself, drags over his crutch and begins moving, on the look out for a place he probably saw on the way that he is pretty sure sells some sort of stick food to feed the hungry passing ministers.] I'm close, I'll pick up the lunch I promised and meet you there? I wouldn't want to miss the faces your colleagues will make seeing me again.
[he's chosen to find the whole thing hilarious instead of deeply embarrassing.
(and, if he's being honest, he doesn't hate the ah. making it very clear pal is spoken for. the idea of pal ever straying or betraying him is absolutely laughable but viktor is a zaunite at heart, deeply territorial of the good things in his life. pal happens to be the best thing in his life, so perhaps it isn't so terrible his coworkers now are aware of that previously stated spoken for factor.)]
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Now who's scaring the wildlife? They're easily startled, for people who are undoubtedly covered in blood as we speak.
[Or: be nice, but don't not come around to pick him up and spook the ministers.]
I'll see you soon.
[He'll even go wash up, as promised, and shuck off his minister robes and leave them to be washed by someone else on wash duty who is not him, thank god. Luckily the ministers' provided duds are blood-proof, and so it's mostly picking off the omni that he has to spend his time on while he loiters in the foyer of the Lumenarium waiting for Viktor. The handful of ministers milling about doing other tasks are also waiting for Viktor, but with the occasional wary glance at the main entrance doors. Palamedes pretends not to notice.]
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he almost says something about love again but decides just to save it, purchasing their lunch and heading for the lumenarium. he's been remaining steadfastly ambivalent to his lungs, too burnt from their time with the berries to revel in the clear feeling and the new strength, but he can't help but notice how much easier the walk is. how much nice. maybe things like he can kiss pal senseless again without keeping an eye on his own limits.
ah. if only these moments were ever not so god damned complicated, emphasis on the god damned in this case.
viktor smiles when he sees pal, ignoring his poor coworkers to approach and yes, can anyone blame him for a deep kiss in greeting? not with i love you still on his lips. he doesn't really have a free hand between the crutch and bag to cup his jaw or grasp his arm, sadly, but after a moment he pulls only a little back.]
Hello. [this has been a whiplash of the day. for the moment he can focus on it being hard not to smile though.] You look suitably unbloodied, thank you.
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This is a place of business. A place of healing. They are sullying it with their distracting kissing, to be sure. Oh well.]
I'd hate to ruin lunch with errant corruption, [he says, like being covered in blood and who knows what else is just a normal thing and not the problem. That's how it is.]
Where are we going? Are you enjoying the many sights and smells of Lumenwood enough to stay here for lunch, or are we heading for the lamp?
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I think the blood mist is, in fact, not an enjoyable backdrop to eating any food. Let us go to the lamp. I wouldn't mind eating at the docks, though we could head elsewhere. [pal has maybe a few more issues with the sea than viktor, who still finds it a comfort more than anything.
he leans in for another kiss, passing the bag of stick food to pal so he can free that hand for holding pal's.] Now, let us see... ah yes, should I tease you for informing me of your feelings over a sudden phone call or because you were covered in blood? [the softness in his glance sort of makes both seem more like endearments, so. hm.]
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He does give them a little wave, before accepting food in one hand and Viktor's hand in the other, and turning them back towards the main entrance. Very fortuitous that the Lumenarium has its own lamp, although, hm - nearly every time he goes near the docks or the sea something horrible happens.
He'll try not to be superstitious. With a one-shoulder shrug, he says,] The docks are fine; you're cute when you get to look at the boats.
[And for fun, he actually thinks about which think Viktor should tease him over. They're both valid options, so good job to himself, but:]
The blood, I think, although you've known I'm a necromancer since we met and so should not be surprised I'd come into some borrowed blood on occasion. ["borrowed"] Do your worst; I love you despite your barbs.
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Eh, if it helps turn your opinion on the docks at least then I will take it. [this defamation of his character, quite foul.]
I think I might choose the wildcard and pick on you for calling it 'borrowed.' [viktor decides as they approach the lamp, slowing a little to glance at him. kind of wants to kiss him again, this is all an excellent distraction from necromantic gods or whether the healing won't cause another, irritating time loop. he would really rather not have this day marred by another of those.]
... you know I've been thinking of admitting that to you for a time, that I love you. I foolishly convinced myself it would be eh... overbearing. [a sort of snort like yeah, he's kind of an idiot sometimes if left to his own devices.]
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Now, 'borrowed' is fine, but this other thing— Palamedes doesn't point out that talking about their feelings isn't picking on him for borrowed blood at all, actually. But.]
Overbearing? You? Never. [Unless he has a handful of grapes in his pocket, ahem... Palamedes gives him a sideways look, eyebrows raised while that implication sinks in, then he laughs.] I thought we'd established that I like it when you're direct. You didn't have to worry about it.
[Well, he's a little relieved it wasn't fruit that pushed them into saying it; not that that would have spoiled the sentiment, not really. Still.]
Am I going to sound arrogant if I say I totally knew all along? You have a tell.
[he doesn't. it's just being sappy.]
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his lips quirk at that though, at 'direct.'] You are right, as you often are. I was likely trying to rationalize and irrational.
[because the being open and vulnerable thing is a work in progress he usually thinks he's doing quite well at, all things considered. reaching the lamp and he stops though, giving pal quite the look for that claim.]
I do not. What tell? [the nerve, truly. almost like being incredibly gay and all the incredibly romantic things they do are a tell.]
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When did you want to tell me? I must have been doing something impressive.
[You know, as if his phone call wasn't just in the middle of a serious conversation. It's fine, tell him the gossip about himself, he loves to hear it.]
And you do. You make this face, [he wiggles his fingers, A Face that is Made, this isn't purposely vague.] It's a dead giveaway.
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The last time was when I was telling you I had your back. [he answers that, smile small as he glances over. he tugs him to the lamp then poof, close to the docks. thanks lantern friend, you funky little monsters.] I often think it at small things, really. When you bend your glasses like a madman, for example. When you're concentrating on a book.
[gay. it's like he's in love. the not face gets a face of his own, the other thread mentioned it. the pal is saying/doing something ridiculous face.] That is not a face I make.
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That said,]
You're making the face right now. [is he. is that the face. or are there many faces, actually, because Palamedes is also in love, and that's just how these things go.] Come on, teach me something about the sea that isn't horrifying.
[It's up to Viktor to mediate Pal vs. Sea... Well, away they go to lunch, content, all things considered.]