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Yes, he knows what happened, but he does not know how it happened, what Skan said, what Jax's reaction was. And those details could become important if Jax ever confronts Viktor again.
He puts the fingertips of his free hands between his brows, closing his eyes.
"'Help' is not the right word, but yes, I need to know the details."
He puts the fingertips of his free hands between his brows, closing his eyes.
"'Help' is not the right word, but yes, I need to know the details."
Skan's ears lift slightly, a considering gaze, long and searching, intense with his raptor's eyes. But he nods, slowly. Alright. He would simply have to trust Viktor, then, and that much was easy.
Abruptly, Skan surges to his feet again, pacing until he's directly in front of Viktor, and then sits. The pose is catlike, poised, professional, and quite stiff except for the twitching tip of a feathered tail, betraying his nervousness. A soldier, giving his report, to the man in the chair.
"I carried him to the cliffs," He begins, not mentioning that he'd have done it on stage, if not for— Well. Jax might have been the most obnoxious person in Caldera, but even Skan could admit that a public execution might've been taking it a bit too far, "The ones that aren't shored up yet. He called me a chicken, and I gave him a chance to apologize, for any of it. For hurting you. He didn't seem to think there was anything to apologize for, not that he could remember."
He pauses a moment, gauging the reaction. But only a moment; you couldn't pause in the middle of delivering a report, after all. This was about professionalism. Procedure. Details.
"I'll admit it: I was angry. He didn't seem to think I was serious, not even with me literally standing on him, so I put my claws into him. I explained that every Visitor was being left to do as he pleases, and that that wasn't a license to treat people as prey. I told him he'd wake up in a few days, and I warned him off any more tormenting the meek and helpless, when he did. Then I made sure he wouldn't be getting up... Eventually, he bled to death. I waited until the body went, left the gem where it fell, and went for a wash-up before I returned to the group."
Abruptly, Skan surges to his feet again, pacing until he's directly in front of Viktor, and then sits. The pose is catlike, poised, professional, and quite stiff except for the twitching tip of a feathered tail, betraying his nervousness. A soldier, giving his report, to the man in the chair.
"I carried him to the cliffs," He begins, not mentioning that he'd have done it on stage, if not for— Well. Jax might have been the most obnoxious person in Caldera, but even Skan could admit that a public execution might've been taking it a bit too far, "The ones that aren't shored up yet. He called me a chicken, and I gave him a chance to apologize, for any of it. For hurting you. He didn't seem to think there was anything to apologize for, not that he could remember."
He pauses a moment, gauging the reaction. But only a moment; you couldn't pause in the middle of delivering a report, after all. This was about professionalism. Procedure. Details.
"I'll admit it: I was angry. He didn't seem to think I was serious, not even with me literally standing on him, so I put my claws into him. I explained that every Visitor was being left to do as he pleases, and that that wasn't a license to treat people as prey. I told him he'd wake up in a few days, and I warned him off any more tormenting the meek and helpless, when he did. Then I made sure he wouldn't be getting up... Eventually, he bled to death. I waited until the body went, left the gem where it fell, and went for a wash-up before I returned to the group."
Edited 2025-10-10 04:30 (UTC)
Viktor looks confused for a brief moment, caught off-guard by the formality of the positioning. But soon, he is grateful for it. How much more painful would this be if Skan rattled it off like killing a man was a casual Friday afternoon for him? How infuriated would that have made Viktor? If he is going to accept that Skan kills as vengeance, he needs to at least know that Skan treats the lives he takes with the gravity and seriousness they deserve. Even that of Jax, the horrible rabbit.
Murder is nothing to scoff at. But, perhaps Viktor can come to accept it, as part of how Skan operates, as his way of protecting both of them. As his way of violently clawing back the dignity that was stolen from Skan when he died crumpled on the ground, and from Viktor when he lay helplessly on the tavern floor, taunted in front of everyone.
He listens carefully, nodding minutely, slowly. A few things stick out.
Not that he could remember. The interaction that left Viktor licking old wounds and terrified to get up on stage, Jax did not even remember. As though Skan had asked him what he had for breakfast 6 days ago- too mundane to bother retaining.
I was angry. Though planned, this was still a crime of passion for Skan, not completely cold and calculated, nor casual and simply a chore.
I told him he'd wake up in a few days. Oddly, for a moment Viktor wishes Skan hadn't told him that, that he'd let him die thinking it was truly permanent. That way, it would sink in more that this is real, that Jax's actions have lasting consequences. Then Viktor berates himself for thinking something so cruel. The point was to teach him a lesson, not traumatize him. Skan did the right thing.
Finally, he winces at being called meek and helpless. He thought Skan thought of him with more respect than that, by now, but he supposes he gets his meaning. People who cannot (or will not) defend themselves.
Viktor is quiet for a long moment, sipping from his glass as he processes.
"All right. Thank you, for the details."
Murder is nothing to scoff at. But, perhaps Viktor can come to accept it, as part of how Skan operates, as his way of protecting both of them. As his way of violently clawing back the dignity that was stolen from Skan when he died crumpled on the ground, and from Viktor when he lay helplessly on the tavern floor, taunted in front of everyone.
He listens carefully, nodding minutely, slowly. A few things stick out.
Not that he could remember. The interaction that left Viktor licking old wounds and terrified to get up on stage, Jax did not even remember. As though Skan had asked him what he had for breakfast 6 days ago- too mundane to bother retaining.
I was angry. Though planned, this was still a crime of passion for Skan, not completely cold and calculated, nor casual and simply a chore.
I told him he'd wake up in a few days. Oddly, for a moment Viktor wishes Skan hadn't told him that, that he'd let him die thinking it was truly permanent. That way, it would sink in more that this is real, that Jax's actions have lasting consequences. Then Viktor berates himself for thinking something so cruel. The point was to teach him a lesson, not traumatize him. Skan did the right thing.
Finally, he winces at being called meek and helpless. He thought Skan thought of him with more respect than that, by now, but he supposes he gets his meaning. People who cannot (or will not) defend themselves.
Viktor is quiet for a long moment, sipping from his glass as he processes.
"All right. Thank you, for the details."
"You're welcome."
Skan sees that wince, and sighs internally. Even now, there still lives that doubt in you, doesn't it, my friend? That people must think of you that way, even me.
"You weren't the only one he had bullied," Skan says lowly, taking a step out of his professional stance, but just one, wary of his reception, "He'll be wiser now, or at least forewarned. I'm not afraid to become a nightmare, in defense of my family."
And Viktor was that, now, as much as anyone else had ever been. Skan could no more disentangle his heart from this man than tear it from his own breast. But it's more than that, of course. Isn't it always?
What rises in him then is— childish, ugly, and importunate. But in the waiting silence between them, the awkwardness is like a living thing, a slime-mouthed dog that gambols and barks, and sets its teeth to worrying at Skan's leg, with vigor. He feels a terrible need to explain himself somehow, to make Viktor understand. To be understood at all, and not... Not resent him for it.
"May I ask you something?"
Skan sees that wince, and sighs internally. Even now, there still lives that doubt in you, doesn't it, my friend? That people must think of you that way, even me.
"You weren't the only one he had bullied," Skan says lowly, taking a step out of his professional stance, but just one, wary of his reception, "He'll be wiser now, or at least forewarned. I'm not afraid to become a nightmare, in defense of my family."
And Viktor was that, now, as much as anyone else had ever been. Skan could no more disentangle his heart from this man than tear it from his own breast. But it's more than that, of course. Isn't it always?
What rises in him then is— childish, ugly, and importunate. But in the waiting silence between them, the awkwardness is like a living thing, a slime-mouthed dog that gambols and barks, and sets its teeth to worrying at Skan's leg, with vigor. He feels a terrible need to explain himself somehow, to make Viktor understand. To be understood at all, and not... Not resent him for it.
"May I ask you something?"
There's no way for Viktor to truly know people don't see him that way. Even the people who adore Viktor, who respect his brilliance and ingenuity, may just see it as compensation for what he lacks. Like Nina said. Yes, the insecurity plagues him eternally.
He's caught off-guard again, this time by a word he didn't expect.
"Family?" He was not aware that Skan thought of him in such a way, though surely, he should have been.
Perhaps resentment is the word for the coldness Viktor feels now. The lack of gratitude. Some part of him is grateful and utterly relieved, but guilt wars with it. How dare he feel relieved that a man is dead? How dare he glean satisfaction from it? Doesn't that make him just as bad as Jax, if not worse?
"You may," he allows, back to that even, detached tone.
He's caught off-guard again, this time by a word he didn't expect.
"Family?" He was not aware that Skan thought of him in such a way, though surely, he should have been.
Perhaps resentment is the word for the coldness Viktor feels now. The lack of gratitude. Some part of him is grateful and utterly relieved, but guilt wars with it. How dare he feel relieved that a man is dead? How dare he glean satisfaction from it? Doesn't that make him just as bad as Jax, if not worse?
"You may," he allows, back to that even, detached tone.
There's a glint of reproach in Skan's eye, at the question. Of course, of course you are family, you silly fool. As brilliant as you are, you haven't learned a damn thing, have you? Gryphons don't really understand these moral qualms— or perhaps that's merely a product of the savage nature of the times from which Skan hails.
Speaking of which...
"Where were you, before coming here? I don't mean where, or here-here, I mean— what was happening, before? What did Caldera interrupt, to bring you to this world?"
Speaking of which...
"Where were you, before coming here? I don't mean where, or here-here, I mean— what was happening, before? What did Caldera interrupt, to bring you to this world?"
Viktor had the same reaction to Xander confessing his love, so... No, he hasn't learned anything.
"Well..." A lot happened just before his arrival here. Viktor has no idea where Skan is going with this, so it's hard to know how much detail to include.
"After a last-ditch experiment to save my own life with the Hexcore lead to the death of my assistant, I had given up, and was coming to terms with my own imminent death. On the day I was taken, Jayce and I were preparing for a City Council meeting- he was a Councillor. Political tensions were rising between Piltover and the Undercity, but Jayce negotiated a tenuous peace with a representative of theirs. We were going to present this to the Council and initiate a vote on granting the Undercity independence. The nation of Zaun." Skan might recall that Viktor is from the Undercity, hence why he wanted to attend that meeting with Jayce.
"Well..." A lot happened just before his arrival here. Viktor has no idea where Skan is going with this, so it's hard to know how much detail to include.
"After a last-ditch experiment to save my own life with the Hexcore lead to the death of my assistant, I had given up, and was coming to terms with my own imminent death. On the day I was taken, Jayce and I were preparing for a City Council meeting- he was a Councillor. Political tensions were rising between Piltover and the Undercity, but Jayce negotiated a tenuous peace with a representative of theirs. We were going to present this to the Council and initiate a vote on granting the Undercity independence. The nation of Zaun." Skan might recall that Viktor is from the Undercity, hence why he wanted to attend that meeting with Jayce.
"But you had time," He presses, gently, because he did know this much, "At least some. To see things put in order. You were probably walking along some hall, or working at the papers, when it happened."
But he hadn't told Viktor nearly as much in turn, had he? Always asking, obfuscating, making it about other's needs, or a philosophical stance, or— or defending his friend, or himself. Dancing, just as he had this afternoon, around the truth.
Enough. Enough! This is stupid. Skan takes a deep, deep breath, and opens his beak— then lets it go. The effect is comic, a puffing-up, rousing of mane-feathers, and then the wild exhale... but his distress is real.
He tries again, with as much success, and then stands and turns around, pacing towards the balcony, and then back again. Once more, you stupid bird.
"I was being tortured to death," He forces it out, his throat nearly closing on the vital word, torture. Skan opens his mouth to continue, to explain more, and finds he's lost all his air again, somehow.
Breathe, gryphon, breathe. Some hero you turned out to be. Find some damned impassivity, you great black fool!
But he hadn't told Viktor nearly as much in turn, had he? Always asking, obfuscating, making it about other's needs, or a philosophical stance, or— or defending his friend, or himself. Dancing, just as he had this afternoon, around the truth.
Enough. Enough! This is stupid. Skan takes a deep, deep breath, and opens his beak— then lets it go. The effect is comic, a puffing-up, rousing of mane-feathers, and then the wild exhale... but his distress is real.
He tries again, with as much success, and then stands and turns around, pacing towards the balcony, and then back again. Once more, you stupid bird.
"I was being tortured to death," He forces it out, his throat nearly closing on the vital word, torture. Skan opens his mouth to continue, to explain more, and finds he's lost all his air again, somehow.
Breathe, gryphon, breathe. Some hero you turned out to be. Find some damned impassivity, you great black fool!
"Yes." He wasn't on his deathbed, not yet.
Viktor looks at Skan with growing concern as he breathes like that and paces. Just what is going on here? Why is Skan so upset?
That statement leaves Viktor's jaw agape, staring up at Skan in horror and confusion.
"What?"
Viktor looks at Skan with growing concern as he breathes like that and paces. Just what is going on here? Why is Skan so upset?
That statement leaves Viktor's jaw agape, staring up at Skan in horror and confusion.
"What?"
"Heh. Mmh, yes."
Having gotten it out in the air, it's suddenly terrible, awkward and strange, to be so vulnerable. He tries to shake it off, almost literally, with a convulsive, full-body shiver, but it's no use. There's no way out, except through.
"A criminal from White Gryphon," He says, at last, not quite able to look at Viktor, and not sure why. It's humiliating, embarrassing, as if he were plucked naked and put before an audience, "Someone I'd met before, someone we'd caught, and then exiled. We don't execute people, above my objections, we just— we sent him into the wilderness, presumably to die. But of course he came back."
He falls silent, ears back, and feathers slicked-down with distress. There's the strange need, yet again, to justify himself: that he wasn't weak, wasn't unwary, to have been caught by such a hideous little worm of a man, and yet... And yet he had been caught, hadn't he? Inexcusable arrogance.
"Of course, there's always the chance for a daring escape, but— it'd been days, and I was in a bad way. In a way, we're neither of us all that far from death," He manages it then, to look up, and see what Viktor is making of all this, to meet his eyes, "What rankles most was, we had the chance to stop him, and we chose not to. But here... I can at least make sure we're not— that it's safe. That you're safe. Even if that does mean disappointing you."
Having gotten it out in the air, it's suddenly terrible, awkward and strange, to be so vulnerable. He tries to shake it off, almost literally, with a convulsive, full-body shiver, but it's no use. There's no way out, except through.
"A criminal from White Gryphon," He says, at last, not quite able to look at Viktor, and not sure why. It's humiliating, embarrassing, as if he were plucked naked and put before an audience, "Someone I'd met before, someone we'd caught, and then exiled. We don't execute people, above my objections, we just— we sent him into the wilderness, presumably to die. But of course he came back."
He falls silent, ears back, and feathers slicked-down with distress. There's the strange need, yet again, to justify himself: that he wasn't weak, wasn't unwary, to have been caught by such a hideous little worm of a man, and yet... And yet he had been caught, hadn't he? Inexcusable arrogance.
"Of course, there's always the chance for a daring escape, but— it'd been days, and I was in a bad way. In a way, we're neither of us all that far from death," He manages it then, to look up, and see what Viktor is making of all this, to meet his eyes, "What rankles most was, we had the chance to stop him, and we chose not to. But here... I can at least make sure we're not— that it's safe. That you're safe. Even if that does mean disappointing you."
Viktor's heart twists with the news that Skan could be days away from death in his own world. Some deep inner part of him has the urge to cry out, to lunge forward and hold onto Skan, as if to pull him back from the brink of death.
No, that can't- that can't-
He doesn't cry out. He doesn't grab Skandranon. But his expression does taint with a pre-emptive grief. It seems to travel through the rest of his body, too; sagging his posture, deflating him.
"I..." He struggles to stay on the topic. Now he's just thinking about how unbearable it would be to lose Skan. "You never told me that."
He looks into his glass, this time pouring sadness into it with his gaze. When he continues, it's quiet.
"Jax can come back, just as your criminal did... Do you not fear he will hold ire for you when he does? Or for me, knowing that you did it on my behalf?"
No, that can't- that can't-
He doesn't cry out. He doesn't grab Skandranon. But his expression does taint with a pre-emptive grief. It seems to travel through the rest of his body, too; sagging his posture, deflating him.
"I..." He struggles to stay on the topic. Now he's just thinking about how unbearable it would be to lose Skan. "You never told me that."
He looks into his glass, this time pouring sadness into it with his gaze. When he continues, it's quiet.
"Jax can come back, just as your criminal did... Do you not fear he will hold ire for you when he does? Or for me, knowing that you did it on my behalf?"
"I've... been trying not to think about it, ever since I woke up here," He admits, shamefacedly, "I haven't told anyone. I've just been... blustering. Avoiding the subject."
Avoiding himself.
Skan sighs, wings heavy alongside his heart. Viktor is no less cheered, and he comes at last to sit by him, his broad shoulder within Viktor's reach and the stone cool and grounding under his elbows. The whole business is a rotten mess: living, and dying, and being brought here. Vengeance was a sour meal. But he can't help any of it, and there's no fighting death itself, was there? Only that which killed you.
"No, I'm not afraid," Skan replies, quietly, and a little ashamed at his own vehemence. It wasn't exactly an honorable path to take, after all, "My initial reaction to him was from the gut, but I've thought about it a great deal since. If my family is here now, then for as long as I'm alive, then I'll defend it to the hilt, no matter what it takes."
Reason be damned, his reputation be damned. He's lost everything else, and is running out of things to lose: it was no time for timidity, here at the end of the road. He refused to lose Viktor too— and he can't bear even the thought of it, without bending to preen at Viktor's hair, to seek the physical closeness that might provide some measure of relief, and comfort.
"I'm no monster: so long as he minds himself, neither will I be any threat to him; I made my line very clear. But the next one might come as Percival did: pointlessly bloodthirsty, with allies and weapons we can't predict. I'm finished with playing games with the safety of those I care about."
Avoiding himself.
Skan sighs, wings heavy alongside his heart. Viktor is no less cheered, and he comes at last to sit by him, his broad shoulder within Viktor's reach and the stone cool and grounding under his elbows. The whole business is a rotten mess: living, and dying, and being brought here. Vengeance was a sour meal. But he can't help any of it, and there's no fighting death itself, was there? Only that which killed you.
"No, I'm not afraid," Skan replies, quietly, and a little ashamed at his own vehemence. It wasn't exactly an honorable path to take, after all, "My initial reaction to him was from the gut, but I've thought about it a great deal since. If my family is here now, then for as long as I'm alive, then I'll defend it to the hilt, no matter what it takes."
Reason be damned, his reputation be damned. He's lost everything else, and is running out of things to lose: it was no time for timidity, here at the end of the road. He refused to lose Viktor too— and he can't bear even the thought of it, without bending to preen at Viktor's hair, to seek the physical closeness that might provide some measure of relief, and comfort.
"I'm no monster: so long as he minds himself, neither will I be any threat to him; I made my line very clear. But the next one might come as Percival did: pointlessly bloodthirsty, with allies and weapons we can't predict. I'm finished with playing games with the safety of those I care about."
Avoiding the subject. As you are wont to do, Viktor thinks. Skan would rather talk about anything under the sun than admit there was ever a time he was vulnerable.
Skan sits next to him, preens his hair. Viktor sighs, closes his eyes. Skan must feel that his revenge adequately scared Jax off from any retaliation, but Viktor isn't so sure. Skan must be committed to doing something worse if Jax retaliates, which is also unsettling. Nonetheless, he allows himself to be selfishly comforted by the closeness and the oath to protect family.
He leans against the Gryphon's side a little.
"I appreciate your desire to protect and defend me. I do not know where I would be, had you and Gadriel not stuck up for me. Likely hiding away from everyone for weeks." Which, in his condition, would be a very bad idea. "And I admit that I felt substantial relief as I watched you carry him off, knowing he would not be in the audience as I performed, nor around to bother me at the event otherwise. But then I felt incredible guilt for being relieved that a man was about to die, and that I did not try to stop you at any point."
Skan sits next to him, preens his hair. Viktor sighs, closes his eyes. Skan must feel that his revenge adequately scared Jax off from any retaliation, but Viktor isn't so sure. Skan must be committed to doing something worse if Jax retaliates, which is also unsettling. Nonetheless, he allows himself to be selfishly comforted by the closeness and the oath to protect family.
He leans against the Gryphon's side a little.
"I appreciate your desire to protect and defend me. I do not know where I would be, had you and Gadriel not stuck up for me. Likely hiding away from everyone for weeks." Which, in his condition, would be a very bad idea. "And I admit that I felt substantial relief as I watched you carry him off, knowing he would not be in the audience as I performed, nor around to bother me at the event otherwise. But then I felt incredible guilt for being relieved that a man was about to die, and that I did not try to stop you at any point."
"I think most would say that that's a good sign, reacting that way," He mutters, a little resentfully. He had meant what he said about not going after Jax, unless the little twerp started something, but even posthumously he still had the ability to rouse anger, "The first one is always the hardest, they say."
If they're lucky, children grow up believing that the world has some fundamental fairness in it, even if things aren't fair to them, personally. Then you see how it is, and it's terrible. But Skan was created to fight, brought up in a time of war, and of a fighter's temperament, besides. He doesn't even remember the first time he killed.
"I wouldn't waste the sentiment on him, though. He wouldn't have felt for you, had your positions been reversed. And really, he'll be fine in a few days— it isn't as if I truly ended him."
If they're lucky, children grow up believing that the world has some fundamental fairness in it, even if things aren't fair to them, personally. Then you see how it is, and it's terrible. But Skan was created to fight, brought up in a time of war, and of a fighter's temperament, besides. He doesn't even remember the first time he killed.
"I wouldn't waste the sentiment on him, though. He wouldn't have felt for you, had your positions been reversed. And really, he'll be fine in a few days— it isn't as if I truly ended him."
Good, then, as you should. They lost a good knight by sticking to the book, so perhaps their book was not so perfect to begin with.
[He's never been particularly fond of law enforcement... This order sounds better than Piltover's Enforcers, but still.]
I do not regret any rules I have broken either, even when it made some quite upset. I was born in a place with no opportunities, so I had to make my own. Seize a place for myself in the world that was not handed to me. I cheated not because I lacked merit, but because if they saw where I truly came from, they would disregard the merit I did have.
[He's never been particularly fond of law enforcement... This order sounds better than Piltover's Enforcers, but still.]
I do not regret any rules I have broken either, even when it made some quite upset. I was born in a place with no opportunities, so I had to make my own. Seize a place for myself in the world that was not handed to me. I cheated not because I lacked merit, but because if they saw where I truly came from, they would disregard the merit I did have.
"That is true. Had our positions been reversed, he likely would have watched and laughed," Viktor mutters bitterly. The thought does make him feel less guilty, though.
"He is not worth thinking about or discussing further, so let us endeavour not to do so again unless it is truly necessary."
In other words: Jax is a waste of oxygen, in all ways. There are better things Viktor's limited lung capacity can be used for, such as expressing his love for Skan, for example. He leans more against the Gryphon, allowing himself to finally relax some.
He allows for silence and breathes for some long, stretching moments, reflecting on what's been said already. His mind returns to Skan's declaration that he protects his family, no matter what. That is the take home message, here.
"You are my family too," he admits quietly. "Well... Actually, the word I had begun to associate with you, and with Xander as well, is partner."
He takes a moment to try to fathom how to explain that word's meaning to someone else.
"Jayce and I were partners. Brothers, colleagues, friends... But more than that, we were dedicated to the same ambitions. We fuelled each other's successes, and picked each other up after failures. With Jayce, things were possible that I could have never done alone, and vice versa. We saved one another. He was the most important person in my life, and while no one can replace him... I have come to think of you and Xander in a similar way. Of course, each of these partnerships is fully unique, but they all mean a great deal to me, in ways I can never fully quantify or even put into words properly."
He looks away, feeling oddly wistful.
"I can only hope that... That I am not burdensome to you, and that I have helped you even half as much as you have helped me."
"He is not worth thinking about or discussing further, so let us endeavour not to do so again unless it is truly necessary."
In other words: Jax is a waste of oxygen, in all ways. There are better things Viktor's limited lung capacity can be used for, such as expressing his love for Skan, for example. He leans more against the Gryphon, allowing himself to finally relax some.
He allows for silence and breathes for some long, stretching moments, reflecting on what's been said already. His mind returns to Skan's declaration that he protects his family, no matter what. That is the take home message, here.
"You are my family too," he admits quietly. "Well... Actually, the word I had begun to associate with you, and with Xander as well, is partner."
He takes a moment to try to fathom how to explain that word's meaning to someone else.
"Jayce and I were partners. Brothers, colleagues, friends... But more than that, we were dedicated to the same ambitions. We fuelled each other's successes, and picked each other up after failures. With Jayce, things were possible that I could have never done alone, and vice versa. We saved one another. He was the most important person in my life, and while no one can replace him... I have come to think of you and Xander in a similar way. Of course, each of these partnerships is fully unique, but they all mean a great deal to me, in ways I can never fully quantify or even put into words properly."
He looks away, feeling oddly wistful.
"I can only hope that... That I am not burdensome to you, and that I have helped you even half as much as you have helped me."
For a few blinking moments, Skandranon has no idea what to say to that. The word, partner rings in his heart like battle-cry, like a repressed keen, and he flushes to the nares to be so flattered. Despite his bluster, Skan never quite knows how to face with this sort of real, genuine praise.
"If ever you are a burden, my friend," Skan replies, eventually, feeling as if his voice is as thick as beeswax in his throat, "You are one I have chosen and will choose again, and that is a privilege to carry. Urtho made my back strong and my wings broad for a reason, and it's the whole point of family to share burdens as well as joys. Isn't it?"
He spreads the wing on Viktor's side, draping it over his head and shoulders, and the back of his chair, like a brotherly buffet, the bracing pressure of solidarity. We're in this together, you and I. For better, worse, and all else in between.
"If ever you are a burden, my friend," Skan replies, eventually, feeling as if his voice is as thick as beeswax in his throat, "You are one I have chosen and will choose again, and that is a privilege to carry. Urtho made my back strong and my wings broad for a reason, and it's the whole point of family to share burdens as well as joys. Isn't it?"
He spreads the wing on Viktor's side, draping it over his head and shoulders, and the back of his chair, like a brotherly buffet, the bracing pressure of solidarity. We're in this together, you and I. For better, worse, and all else in between.
"It is." That is exactly how he feels about the word partner. Sharing burdens and joys of life, holding onto one another through trials and tribulations.
It means a lot, that Skan doesn't act like what he said was preposterous, like Viktor could never be burdensome. He knows his illness burdens more than just himself. But Skan feels that the weight of it is something he is able and willing to carry, and that any difficulties that arise from their friendship are worth it. He closes his eyes and rests his head against Skan, petting his feathers. He thinks back even earlier, to Skan talking about the torture and death.
"I don't want to lose you. If you disappeared, I..." Well, he doesn't know what he would do, but he doesn't want to sound quite so helpless. Of course, he'd assess if Skan had left his gem, et cetera, but that's not what he means. "What if you are forced home for good? What if I am?" They know by now that it is not their choice, not unless they explicitly request to stay permanently.
It means a lot, that Skan doesn't act like what he said was preposterous, like Viktor could never be burdensome. He knows his illness burdens more than just himself. But Skan feels that the weight of it is something he is able and willing to carry, and that any difficulties that arise from their friendship are worth it. He closes his eyes and rests his head against Skan, petting his feathers. He thinks back even earlier, to Skan talking about the torture and death.
"I don't want to lose you. If you disappeared, I..." Well, he doesn't know what he would do, but he doesn't want to sound quite so helpless. Of course, he'd assess if Skan had left his gem, et cetera, but that's not what he means. "What if you are forced home for good? What if I am?" They know by now that it is not their choice, not unless they explicitly request to stay permanently.
I kind of lucked out, being adopted by a nobleman. And I don't remember life before that. ( well, she did, but it was the fighting for her life parts that stuck with her, not the mundane memories of the family she may have once had. )
I'm sure you don't have to hear me say it — but keep doing it. It's all worth it in the end, I think, to break those rules. People like you tend to make things better when they do.
I'm sure you don't have to hear me say it — but keep doing it. It's all worth it in the end, I think, to break those rules. People like you tend to make things better when they do.
"What if all my feathers fall out? What if Heaven's Bow turns upside down? What if the moon is made of cheese?" Skan rebuts, flat and droll and unrelenting as ever, "The future is something neither of us can fully control, no matter what we do. All one can do is meet the wind where it blows, and try to rise above it."
And if that meant ignoring the past a little, well... Good. Who needs nightmares, anyways? They're a waste of good sleep.
"Everyone dies someday, ke'chara," Skan reminds him, not ungently, "It's twice-over now that I shouldn't even be alive to have today, here and now. I'm not afraid. But I won't leave you a-purpose, you do know that? It isn't home without you."
And if that meant ignoring the past a little, well... Good. Who needs nightmares, anyways? They're a waste of good sleep.
"Everyone dies someday, ke'chara," Skan reminds him, not ungently, "It's twice-over now that I shouldn't even be alive to have today, here and now. I'm not afraid. But I won't leave you a-purpose, you do know that? It isn't home without you."
Xander has been hanging out a lot at the workshop with Viktor, and it's clear to anyone around that the two are in a sort of honeymoon phase. They're attached at the hip and tend to be quite affectionate with each other, and can sometimes be found napping together on the couch in the lounge.
Ever since the mingle, Viktor has been trying to slow down with his work and enjoy his time with his partner, because he isn't sure how limited it will be. One night, Xander brings by some nice wine and cheeses and convinces him to take a break. His rubber arm is easily twisted for this, and the lovey-dovey aura from the lounge can probably be felt half a mile away.
When Barcus enters the lounge, Viktor is unusually smiley.
"Barcus, please, have some wine and cheese." He gestures to the little table they've pulled up beside the couch so they don't have to get up. And they look quite cozy, Viktor's legs across Xander's lap, nestled between his partner and the arm of the couch with his wine held into his chest. His cheeks are a little pink, and it's unclear if that's because of the wine or something Xander recently did or said.
Ever since the mingle, Viktor has been trying to slow down with his work and enjoy his time with his partner, because he isn't sure how limited it will be. One night, Xander brings by some nice wine and cheeses and convinces him to take a break. His rubber arm is easily twisted for this, and the lovey-dovey aura from the lounge can probably be felt half a mile away.
When Barcus enters the lounge, Viktor is unusually smiley.
"Barcus, please, have some wine and cheese." He gestures to the little table they've pulled up beside the couch so they don't have to get up. And they look quite cozy, Viktor's legs across Xander's lap, nestled between his partner and the arm of the couch with his wine held into his chest. His cheeks are a little pink, and it's unclear if that's because of the wine or something Xander recently did or said.
They're precious, honestly. Barcus wouldn't say so in so many words. Men don't usually appreciate being told they're precious. What he does say, every now and again when he comes across them, is that he's delighted they're enjoying the workshop. Thrilled they're so comfortable here. Really at this point it's as much Viktor's as it is Barcus', even if the gnome is still the one who holds the license. And Xander...well, he knows him less well, but it's easy to see from the way he treats Viktor, what a good man he is.
So. Yes. Precious.
He's been working on building more of his Firefly devices on the evening he comes across them cuddling in the lounge. His fingers are a little bruised from all the detailed wiring, and he flexes and rubs his own hands as he wanders in. His eyebrows go up at the scene he's presented with, but then he can't help but smile.
"I thought I heard your voices. You two look just a bit smug, settled in there." But sure, since he's been invited, he's not too shy to fetch himself a clean teacup and pour a little wine.
"I'll just sit nearby and bask in the glow of your affection, shall I?" A tease. He's a little wistful, perhaps, but there's nothing but approval in his eyes.
So. Yes. Precious.
He's been working on building more of his Firefly devices on the evening he comes across them cuddling in the lounge. His fingers are a little bruised from all the detailed wiring, and he flexes and rubs his own hands as he wanders in. His eyebrows go up at the scene he's presented with, but then he can't help but smile.
"I thought I heard your voices. You two look just a bit smug, settled in there." But sure, since he's been invited, he's not too shy to fetch himself a clean teacup and pour a little wine.
"I'll just sit nearby and bask in the glow of your affection, shall I?" A tease. He's a little wistful, perhaps, but there's nothing but approval in his eyes.
Xander's bias toward Imperial made wine was easily swayed by the absolute stellar vintages being crafted at the Visitor run winery in town. At least once a week he showed up with a new bottle to try — tonight, it was a dry red, with the appropriately paired cheeses, and he would be damned if he didn't convince Viktor to sit down and enjoy it with him.
Xander, for his part in the current scene, was staring at Viktor, having just made some comment about the need to be carried back home, should they both imbibe a bit too much, and how Skan would probably playfully chide them for their rambunctious wine and cheese party.
When Viktor spoke to address Barcus, however, he turned to smile at the gnome, but his gaze almost immediately focused on the way he flexed his hands. "Bask all you wish, my friend, but do let me examine your hands, if I may? You look pained."
Xander, for his part in the current scene, was staring at Viktor, having just made some comment about the need to be carried back home, should they both imbibe a bit too much, and how Skan would probably playfully chide them for their rambunctious wine and cheese party.
When Viktor spoke to address Barcus, however, he turned to smile at the gnome, but his gaze almost immediately focused on the way he flexed his hands. "Bask all you wish, my friend, but do let me examine your hands, if I may? You look pained."
Viktor is debating whether Gryphon-riding under the influence would be more dangerous than getting themselves home in such a circumstance when Barcus calls them out for looking smug. His cheeks grow pinker, but he smiles and chuckles a little. It stands to reason that Xander brought at least two bottles of wine, and the first is nearly empty.
"Apologies, Archmagos. We must be insufferable." Though he feels similarly, that the workshop is as much his as it is Barcus' now, he worries sometimes about irritating Barcus with their chatter or taking up too much space in the workshop. With all of them spending so much time here, they're almost as much roommates as colleagues, and Viktor wants to be considerate.
"Yes, and I am happy to provide you a little healing, if you are sore," he offers. He leans forward so as to peer over at Barcus and his hands, and this has the added effect of making him closer to Xander, so he leans on him a little and plays with his hair in the back with one hand.
"Apologies, Archmagos. We must be insufferable." Though he feels similarly, that the workshop is as much his as it is Barcus' now, he worries sometimes about irritating Barcus with their chatter or taking up too much space in the workshop. With all of them spending so much time here, they're almost as much roommates as colleagues, and Viktor wants to be considerate.
"Yes, and I am happy to provide you a little healing, if you are sore," he offers. He leans forward so as to peer over at Barcus and his hands, and this has the added effect of making him closer to Xander, so he leans on him a little and plays with his hair in the back with one hand.
These impossibly kind men! Barcus looks slightly flustered at the dual offer to ease his hands, if also grateful. "It's nothing, really," he protests. "I've just been working in fine detail for hours and it's left me a bit sore. I suppose I might be developing a touch of arthritis, but it's not that bad."
He takes a sip of his wine, stalling, but then relents and sets the cup aside, stepping closer and leaning against the arm of the sofa opposite Viktor. He offers his hands palms-up. "Really, you can have a look, but don't waste energy on it."
He chuckles softly at the nickname. Archmagos. He still needs to come up with one for Viktor, and his mind wanders over gnomish words for a moment. "Mm. Are the two of you celebrating anything in particular, or just having a cozy night in together? I never got around to formally congratulating you on your invention for the revel. Had the judgment been based on long-term usefulness rather than Nymion's whim, you'd have won handily. That will save lives."
He takes a sip of his wine, stalling, but then relents and sets the cup aside, stepping closer and leaning against the arm of the sofa opposite Viktor. He offers his hands palms-up. "Really, you can have a look, but don't waste energy on it."
He chuckles softly at the nickname. Archmagos. He still needs to come up with one for Viktor, and his mind wanders over gnomish words for a moment. "Mm. Are the two of you celebrating anything in particular, or just having a cozy night in together? I never got around to formally congratulating you on your invention for the revel. Had the judgment been based on long-term usefulness rather than Nymion's whim, you'd have won handily. That will save lives."
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