Jayce, between the two of us, who is an expert on arcane spaces? [ He doesn't say it unkindly, aware that it may come across as condescending, but to have someone refute his knowledge of the arcane and it's very few laws seems laughable. Then he has to remind himself that Jayce never saw inside of his mind until the end, didn't know how Sky lingered with him as a balm to his loneliness and a reminder of his guilt. Perhaps Jayce isn't a hallucination in the traditional sense, but it's very likely that he's only in Viktor's mind after his actions had led to the death of his partner but maybe not himself.
There are too many questions swirling through his head and deeper in his heart, things he doesn't want to acknowledge for fear of their weight crushing him should they be brought to the surface. He can remember their last moments, or what he'd thought would be their last moments, with such frightening clarity and yet everything between that and now feels like a forgotten dream. There had been water, waves, words, but the memory of them escape like smoke between his grasping fingers.
It's easier just to... be. Not thinking about the past or the future, just focusing on whatever is in front of him which is Jayce, primarily, and fruit, secondarily. Watching him hesitate before that first bite, like a dog remembering it's been domesticated when faced with a juicy steak, makes Viktor's chest tighten with sadness. Knowing now what he faced in that alternate reality, the starvation and agony and fear—he'll never fault him for falling on food like a wild beast. ]
Refutation. [ He takes the offered fruit and rubs his thumb over the soft, warm skin. ] A high caliber mind like mine would could easily argue with itself. I've done it since I was a child.
[ Dunking the fruit—a plum? a peach?—into the fountain, he gives it a cursory clean before withdrawing it and shaking it dry. The remaining moisture beads on the smooth surface, teardrops running over the skin and falling onto his thighs. He should be more cautious about the potential for it to be poisonous, yet the neat rows of trees, manicured grounds, and fountain suggest that this has been cultivates with a purpose. Besides, if he's already dead, what harm would a little poison do?
The first bite floods his mouth with juice, drawing a surprised sound from him as he leans forward out of instinct not to drip onto nonexistent clothes. ]
no subject
There are too many questions swirling through his head and deeper in his heart, things he doesn't want to acknowledge for fear of their weight crushing him should they be brought to the surface. He can remember their last moments, or what he'd thought would be their last moments, with such frightening clarity and yet everything between that and now feels like a forgotten dream. There had been water, waves, words, but the memory of them escape like smoke between his grasping fingers.
It's easier just to... be. Not thinking about the past or the future, just focusing on whatever is in front of him which is Jayce, primarily, and fruit, secondarily. Watching him hesitate before that first bite, like a dog remembering it's been domesticated when faced with a juicy steak, makes Viktor's chest tighten with sadness. Knowing now what he faced in that alternate reality, the starvation and agony and fear—he'll never fault him for falling on food like a wild beast. ]
Refutation. [ He takes the offered fruit and rubs his thumb over the soft, warm skin. ] A high caliber mind like mine would could easily argue with itself. I've done it since I was a child.
[ Dunking the fruit—a plum? a peach?—into the fountain, he gives it a cursory clean before withdrawing it and shaking it dry. The remaining moisture beads on the smooth surface, teardrops running over the skin and falling onto his thighs. He should be more cautious about the potential for it to be poisonous, yet the neat rows of trees, manicured grounds, and fountain suggest that this has been cultivates with a purpose. Besides, if he's already dead, what harm would a little poison do?
The first bite floods his mouth with juice, drawing a surprised sound from him as he leans forward out of instinct not to drip onto nonexistent clothes. ]