[If Skan's voice sounds panicked, it's because he's deeply concerned.]
The island is tilting— our house! [There is a muffled crash, a hissed gryphonic curse, and then the rattling sound of the storm-shutters as Skan leaps free from the balcony, into the air.] Are you alright? Where are you?
[Viktor is in the kitchen making coffee and breakfast when this happens. A yelp and some subsequent clattering can probably be heard upstairs.
The hot pan, kettle, and Viktor himself end up on the floor, but thankfully he manages to avoid getting burned. His bird-thing chirps, and once he's braced against the cabinetry and certain that the hot items aren't going to slide into him or spill more, he takes it out, hearing Skan's worried voice.]
The whole makaar-bred city is falling out of the sky!
[How to approach it? Think, stupid bird. The window was wide enoguh for Viktor to come out form, but— Skan is briefly visible outside the wide, lovely view, as he discards that notion as impossible. The hot oil, the tumbling kitchen implements, and then difficulty of climbing out a precariously-tilting egress... Stupid bird, there's no time! He gives a loud, frustrated cry, shrill and eagle-like, and beats higher, up and over the house, shouldering aside the front door and marring the floor with the grip of his talons as the slow increase of the angle continues to progress.]
[Well, honestly Viktor's plan had been to stay on the floor until whatever was happening had ended, but-- if the island is falling out of the sky, then yes, he does need to get out of here.
Still in pajamas and a bathrobe, Viktor struggles to his knees, reaching for his crutch which had slid away from him. The heavy tilt of the floor makes it hard to get traction on his knees, let alone stand up. He crawls toward Skan. God, this is embarrassing, but his pride is secondary right now, so:]
[Embarrassment was an emotion for safer times; Skan abandons his own dignity without a second thought, scooping Viktor up in his talons and cradling him close, like a nestling. It's an awkward, ungraceful thing to turn on only two feet and waddle out the door, made no better by the cane dangling from Viktor's hand, or the annoying way the tilting ground makes the door want to swing shut.
Outside, the city is in an uproar, the streets full of panicked faces and screams of horror and fear— it's not much of a tilt, really, but it's pronounced and obvious, as is the steady wind as air is displaced from under the sky island. Soon, or so it all seems to say, the tilt will grow worse, until buildings crumble and people go sliding down and off, into thin air. Soon the island will not merely sink, but will fall... But Skan spreads his wings and leaps, immediately caught by that prevailing updraft and whirled up and away from the chaos.]
This is bad... Viktor, are you aright? I'd heard something might be wrong with Aella, but this...
[It bespoke far worse than an antisocial attitude, or a deific lie-in. Something like this was death itself, to a Great Mage.]
[Viktor clings to Skan, wrapping arms around his neck, and as they take off into the air, he's grateful to have a friend who can fly at a time like this. They at least don't have the immediate safety concern of falling off the island. But still, their house... And everyone else...]
I'm alright. What's wrong with Aella?
[As always, he's had his nose in his work, keeping himself occupied with renovations and not much else. So he's heard nothing about this.]
And how can we help?
[He doesn't want to just fly away when Heaven's Bow is in peril.]
She didn't make a showing at the big festival, according to gossip.
[Hardly out of character for Aella, who seemed to enjoy being as feckless as the wind and about as dependable— or so they said. But Skan knew full well how dependable thin air could be, and this was no mere absentia.]
When great mages die, their spells die with them! I'm worried something has happened. And if it has...
[As they gain distance, it becomes more and more obvious; how low the city is floating, and at what angle. How deep the shadow underneath it might soon be seen to grow.]
[Viktor also doesn't think her mere absense at a festival says much, with how secretive the leaders can be, but the last time a god shut herself away, she burst from her castle weeks later calling for aid against Triton.
And Viktor remembers the story Skan told him about his father, how his death sent the magic of the world into complete chaos.]
Oh dear. I hope she is okay...
[He watches with horror as they get far away enough to see the tilt of the island.]
[So do I... Skan thinks, with deep reserve. But the island was listing and the goddess was nowhere to be seen. Surely calling on her to fix this would have been the first thought of anyone with sense— and yet, clearly, it wasn't happening!]
To tell you the truth... [And it is terrible to admit it.] ...I just don't know.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
During the event~
[If Skan's voice sounds panicked, it's because he's deeply concerned.]
The island is tilting— our house! [There is a muffled crash, a hissed gryphonic curse, and then the rattling sound of the storm-shutters as Skan leaps free from the balcony, into the air.] Are you alright? Where are you?
no subject
The hot pan, kettle, and Viktor himself end up on the floor, but thankfully he manages to avoid getting burned. His bird-thing chirps, and once he's braced against the cabinetry and certain that the hot items aren't going to slide into him or spill more, he takes it out, hearing Skan's worried voice.]
I'm alright- in the kitchen-- what is happening?!
no subject
[How to approach it? Think, stupid bird. The window was wide enoguh for Viktor to come out form, but— Skan is briefly visible outside the wide, lovely view, as he discards that notion as impossible. The hot oil, the tumbling kitchen implements, and then difficulty of climbing out a precariously-tilting egress... Stupid bird, there's no time! He gives a loud, frustrated cry, shrill and eagle-like, and beats higher, up and over the house, shouldering aside the front door and marring the floor with the grip of his talons as the slow increase of the angle continues to progress.]
Viktor! Here! Come on, we must leave!
no subject
Still in pajamas and a bathrobe, Viktor struggles to his knees, reaching for his crutch which had slid away from him. The heavy tilt of the floor makes it hard to get traction on his knees, let alone stand up. He crawls toward Skan. God, this is embarrassing, but his pride is secondary right now, so:]
Help?
no subject
Outside, the city is in an uproar, the streets full of panicked faces and screams of horror and fear— it's not much of a tilt, really, but it's pronounced and obvious, as is the steady wind as air is displaced from under the sky island. Soon, or so it all seems to say, the tilt will grow worse, until buildings crumble and people go sliding down and off, into thin air. Soon the island will not merely sink, but will fall... But Skan spreads his wings and leaps, immediately caught by that prevailing updraft and whirled up and away from the chaos.]
This is bad... Viktor, are you aright? I'd heard something might be wrong with Aella, but this...
[It bespoke far worse than an antisocial attitude, or a deific lie-in. Something like this was death itself, to a Great Mage.]
no subject
I'm alright. What's wrong with Aella?
[As always, he's had his nose in his work, keeping himself occupied with renovations and not much else. So he's heard nothing about this.]
And how can we help?
[He doesn't want to just fly away when Heaven's Bow is in peril.]
no subject
[Hardly out of character for Aella, who seemed to enjoy being as feckless as the wind and about as dependable— or so they said. But Skan knew full well how dependable thin air could be, and this was no mere absentia.]
When great mages die, their spells die with them! I'm worried something has happened. And if it has...
[As they gain distance, it becomes more and more obvious; how low the city is floating, and at what angle. How deep the shadow underneath it might soon be seen to grow.]
...This could get very, very bad.
no subject
And Viktor remembers the story Skan told him about his father, how his death sent the magic of the world into complete chaos.]
Oh dear. I hope she is okay...
[He watches with horror as they get far away enough to see the tilt of the island.]
What do we do?!
no subject
To tell you the truth... [And it is terrible to admit it.] ...I just don't know.