Skan sighs and cocks his head back, the feathers along his neck and shoulders ruffling and then settling back down again in a Gryphonic gesture of uncertainty. Forever was a long time, and what did permanence mean in this context? Forever a Visitor, unable to truly die? Forever here, in soul as well as body? How long was forever— would he grow old here, and die, and... then revive again?
"I have considered it," He says finally, almost more to the ceiling than to Viktor, "But in the end, it's too unknown. And who knows what they even mean by permanently, hm? I wish you could see my home, and all we've built together. They would love you there."
Of that, Skan is certain; Amberdrake would love Viktor, and Winterhart, and they would all welcome him as another part of the family, heart and hearth, body and soul. For a minute or two, Skandranon is caught up in the image of that proposed future... and then he lets it go. Alas, it is impossible. But it would have been sweet.
"One day, when I really do die, I want to see my father again, and fly with the spirits of all the gryphons who came before me. Until then, I want to live, and I want to fly with you, and our friends here. Lucky me, I get to have both!"
For that minute or two that Skan's head is in the clouds dreaming, Viktor is sinking. Somehow, the inevitability of one day living without his best friend is harder to stomach than the certainty of his own death. He feels his heart break a little, but he will respect Skandranon's decision.
"I understand," he says quietly.
He spends few long, silent, somber moments leaning into Skan's side. Feeling his warmth, staring at the floor.
"I'd like to go to bed," he murmurs. He's unsure if Skan would like him to sleep down in the lair tonight, or if he's set for his own bed, so he leaves the request in the air for his friend to decide.
For a few moments there is silence. The sun is set, the night air cool and cooling, and Skan silently brings his wing a bit more forward, cloak-like, to guard against it. Viktor is so slight, after all, and it is good to keep him close.
Skandranon has flown so close with death, for all these years, and though it is something to fight with beak and claw, fought to the utter end, it is still a familiar friend. It has lost much of its horror. But he knows: it is one thing to face one's own end bravely, and another to consider the same for someone you love.
So, he tilts his weight ever-so-slightly into Viktor's seeking touch, and says nothing. There is no argument that can truly counter the inevitability of the eternal.
"It has been a long day," He agrees, when Viktor finally speaks, "Would you like to stay, or would you prefer to go up?"
There was much to think on, and Skan knew that Viktor often preferred privacy for his brooding moods.
So it's up to him, then. Viktor contemplates this. He's not exceedingly pleased with Skan for a variety of reasons tonight, and he'd usually prefer the space to sort out his thoughts. But... The talk of death and returning to their worlds has made salient how short their time together is destined to be. He should absorb every moment he has with Skan, like he didn't do with Jayce before he was brought here. He regrets that, now.
"I'll stay."
The day has been long, and he was tense with nerves for a good portion of it, so his muscles are more sore and tired than usual. He rises from the chair with difficulty and hobbles with Skan over to one of the big cushions.
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"I have considered it," He says finally, almost more to the ceiling than to Viktor, "But in the end, it's too unknown. And who knows what they even mean by permanently, hm? I wish you could see my home, and all we've built together. They would love you there."
Of that, Skan is certain; Amberdrake would love Viktor, and Winterhart, and they would all welcome him as another part of the family, heart and hearth, body and soul. For a minute or two, Skandranon is caught up in the image of that proposed future... and then he lets it go. Alas, it is impossible. But it would have been sweet.
"One day, when I really do die, I want to see my father again, and fly with the spirits of all the gryphons who came before me. Until then, I want to live, and I want to fly with you, and our friends here. Lucky me, I get to have both!"
no subject
For that minute or two that Skan's head is in the clouds dreaming, Viktor is sinking. Somehow, the inevitability of one day living without his best friend is harder to stomach than the certainty of his own death. He feels his heart break a little, but he will respect Skandranon's decision.
"I understand," he says quietly.
He spends few long, silent, somber moments leaning into Skan's side. Feeling his warmth, staring at the floor.
"I'd like to go to bed," he murmurs. He's unsure if Skan would like him to sleep down in the lair tonight, or if he's set for his own bed, so he leaves the request in the air for his friend to decide.
no subject
Skandranon has flown so close with death, for all these years, and though it is something to fight with beak and claw, fought to the utter end, it is still a familiar friend. It has lost much of its horror. But he knows: it is one thing to face one's own end bravely, and another to consider the same for someone you love.
So, he tilts his weight ever-so-slightly into Viktor's seeking touch, and says nothing. There is no argument that can truly counter the inevitability of the eternal.
"It has been a long day," He agrees, when Viktor finally speaks, "Would you like to stay, or would you prefer to go up?"
There was much to think on, and Skan knew that Viktor often preferred privacy for his brooding moods.
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"I'll stay."
The day has been long, and he was tense with nerves for a good portion of it, so his muscles are more sore and tired than usual. He rises from the chair with difficulty and hobbles with Skan over to one of the big cushions.