[ well he is being an asshole but he doesn’t leave him on read at least. NONAGON replies fairly promptly. ]
Bathroom.
[ why. well if viktor goes there lucien is actually in the bathroom, in front of the sinks and picking out bits of metal to toss into one. gross. people do their skincare in here …
he at least is not a total idiot and has a towel for pressure and a roll of the antiseptic tape, though it’s not exactly meant for anything more than small wounds and some of these are a little bigger. ]
After a bit, Viktor nudges the door open carefully to scoot in. He's already frowning, but frowns more as he gets inside. He has a medkit in his hands.
There's no announcement since he wasn't exactly subtle with his entrance, not with the crutch thunking against the floor. He stops by Lucien.]
Easier to heal something over if there's nothing in it.
[ this is so stubborn. such a stupid hill to die on, but he also would rather bleed out in the bathroom than deal with the crowd in the medbay right now and being told what to do. ]
Margaret had the right of it. Had a terrible porridge accident that cost everyone their limbs.
[ if he's got enough energy to be an asshole, he probably isn't dying at least. ]
[ he winces again, but starts trying to peel the coat off once the bigger pieces come out. ]
We're not talking about my hair. [ at least it doesn't look permanent ... ] My back was because the others were being complete fools and my face was an accident. There. Explained.
[ no. ]
... It was a-- hallucination. Or illusion. We believed we were other people.
[Disgruntled by the additional cryptic reply, he pauses to try helping Lucien get out of the coat. STOP MOVING, the bleeding. He's about to speed run these little pieces to get back at Lucien for the lack of answers.]
I see... And this... all happened in the kitchen? [SKEPTICAL.] Rodion said "Arkham" though.
[ he deserves it for being a huge baby. dropping the coat on the floor, though not stupid enough to try for the shirt too yet. he does, however, turn the sink on and start trying to get the green out of his hair. is this important right now?
his face screws up at the mention of Arkham. ]
I don't know if it was a magical effect confined to the kitchen. Certainly didn't feel like it, but who knows how this shite works. We were-- prisoners. Patients. At an Asylum, for all of our supposed crimes.
[jokers don't exist in the Extended Murdergame Multiverse, so unfortunately, only Jonkers, Gompers and Jerkers.
mildly shocked, shaking the remains of the shirt off of his arms. ]
If you wanted me naked that badly, you merely had to ask.
[ scoffing. ]
And 'course not. We broke out. Me and Kitew-- Rodya. [ he twitches, shaking his head and then, like he has no control over it. ] Hell yeah. [ MOVING ON. ] I think you were there, or some such? I don't know. We'd almost made it too, before being cheated out of it. Got told some complete nonsense about bombs in our heads, that we had to work "for our government." What feckin' government? Have you ever heard of--
[ oh, he digs in his pants pocket and pulls out an ID card. ]
[May or may not pluck out the next smaller piece of metal a tad more aggressively than any of the other ones........
He has to keep pausing!! He presses a few fingers into Lucien's back to try to keep it from moving around while he figures out what is a damn piece of metal and what's a piece of tattoo.
Lucien is so lucky he carries on through the hell yeah without making fun of it.]
Yes, she said I-- [thinking] --roared and tackled someone? Completely in character for me.
[His brows furrow as he works.]
America? No. By the sounds of it, it may be a worse place than the Undercity.
[he hisses and jumps when he digs in in vengeance, tail lashing hard enough to whack him as he tries to work. it's all tattoos and blood and split skin, and he isn't doing his best to hold still either, shifting from foot to foot or flexing his shoulders as if it will relieve the pain. the eye in the pyramid at the top of his spine seems to stare back at viktor. the talking helps, at least he's distracted. ]
To be entirely fair, the porridge situation warranted it. [ he was also incensed by the food. ] It was worse than any armpit of hell I've ever slithered into, and there's a been a damned myriad of those. Point is, they wanted us to ... I don't know. Kill some rich fuck who was giving them problems. What's new, I suppose. He was raising the dead.
[ he can ignore the pain as long as he's got something to get done - wouldn't be much of a blood hunter if he couldn't ignore a little injury - but now that he's not in immediate danger, yeah, he's dramatic about it. ]
Have you ever questioned the logic of a dream while you were in it? [ it made perfect sense at the time, like most dream things do. he pauses, because he hears those words come out of his mouth, apparently has to have a Moment about it - there's almost something of a laugh - and then pushes it back down. time for that later! ] Not true resurrection. Common necromancy. Shambling corpses and the like. They had-- Familiar faces.
[He pauses again for the upteenth time, but it's to slowly look up over Lucien's shoulder to Lucien in the mirror.]
Familiar faces of people you know, or familiar faces of people here...?
[He picks out what he is praying is the final piece of metal. Molly, you really did a fucking number on the back with the tattoo, my dude. He reluctantly gets the towel so he can dab at the back while standing there and looking at the whole of it nosily.
[ the question i've always had is how in the sweet fuck did molly afford all of these. tattoos aren't cheap. there are so many. he was only alive two years. insane.
speaking of insane, lucien in the mirror is staring at lucien too, tentatively pulling at the claw marks on his face. they do seem to align to about the width of his hand, and the angle pulls down and towards himself. he has rather sharp claws. ]
The only faces I ever dream about. Mine. And hers. I'd dream of new ones if I could, but they're in me like a splinter. Fetid and bloated, nothing but decay. I can't purge the rot.
[used lucien's canonly nice purple dick to get what he wanted]
...
[Lucien, it's Thursday, now is not the time to have a hundredth mental break, someone is gonna be dead later!! Viktor reaches around to gently push the hand away.]
Don't pick at it, please. You'll have to rinse the hair in the sink. You'll bleed out faster than you already are if you use the shower. We won't even make it to the medbay.
Head down.
[Pockets the multi-tool and pops the gross towel over one shoulder. Eyeballing that stupid pyramid eyeball.]
So the undead had your and your friend's faces. Then what? The... necromancer? Did you get him?
Amazing how obedient Lucien can be when his hair is on the line. He's never had to wash the head of someone with massive horns he realizes.
He scoops some water over the back, then pushes the fingers of both hands up through Lucien's scalp to gently scrub. He fingers some of the strands, inquisitively looking at the green, trying to see if it's coming out.
Muttering to himself:] I wonder if the nanites malfunctioned... Are they integrated enough to control the brain and how outside stimuli are received...? [Forgot he might get jumpscared by an eye.]
If it was an illusion, you're safe now. Um, relatively. It is the day before a jump. But I'm real, so you're real. We're on the ship.
[He really fucking jumps in the shoulders when this eye just appears out of the damn hair. He looks up into the mirror at himself like 🧍♂️. Maybe he can alter the medbay pod to get rid of all these fucking eyes on Lucien!!! Suck the whole Somnoven right out!
As best he can, he tries to go around the eye while scrubbing. He pulls the hair gently through his fingers to try squeezing as much of the green out as he can.]
I'm trying my best here. At least meet me half way. Whatever spacial anomaly occurred to you all, it was only that. It was messing with you, and it knew how. You're back and that's what matters.
Look on the bright side: the puke green is coming out of your hair.
[ listen if something as simple healing could eject them they’d be long gone. not even death dissuaded them. but hey, bright side is they’re offering non-monetary payment for completing this job …
he does actually laugh at that, glancing up and pulling a face. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Bathroom.
[ why. well if viktor goes there lucien is actually in the bathroom, in front of the sinks and picking out bits of metal to toss into one. gross. people do their skincare in here …
he at least is not a total idiot and has a towel for pressure and a roll of the antiseptic tape, though it’s not exactly meant for anything more than small wounds and some of these are a little bigger. ]
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After a bit, Viktor nudges the door open carefully to scoot in. He's already frowning, but frowns more as he gets inside. He has a medkit in his hands.
There's no announcement since he wasn't exactly subtle with his entrance, not with the crutch thunking against the floor. He stops by Lucien.]
Let me help you get them out.
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Alright.
[ he won't fight him on that. it's not like he can reach most of it. ]
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He digs the multi-tool he always has in his pocket out too, nudging the pliers open.]
So if I tell you not to go to the medbay after this... would you do it?
[A joke. So he can pluck this first piece of metal out with the pliers.]
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[ he's not a complete stoic, he'll wince when that happens and grip the sides of the sink, tail lashing once. ]
I'll go, but not when it's filled with everyone gawping like that.
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They need to be stitched, but the pod will be the more comfortable choice.
[Glancing at Lucien in the mirror briefly. He preps to extract another piece with the pliers, trying to be careful but not slow.]
You startled all of us. Did something happen in the kitchen...?
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[ this is so stubborn. such a stupid hill to die on, but he also would rather bleed out in the bathroom than deal with the crowd in the medbay right now and being told what to do. ]
Margaret had the right of it. Had a terrible porridge accident that cost everyone their limbs.
[ if he's got enough energy to be an asshole, he probably isn't dying at least. ]
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[PULLS ANOTHER PIECE OUT. :|
The towel goes over the wound.]
That doesn't explain a single thing of how you all looked coming out of there. What happened to your back and hair and face, Lucien?
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We're not talking about my hair. [ at least it doesn't look permanent ... ] My back was because the others were being complete fools and my face was an accident. There. Explained.
[ no. ]
... It was a-- hallucination. Or illusion. We believed we were other people.
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[Disgruntled by the additional cryptic reply, he pauses to try helping Lucien get out of the coat. STOP MOVING, the bleeding. He's about to speed run these little pieces to get back at Lucien for the lack of answers.]
I see... And this... all happened in the kitchen? [SKEPTICAL.] Rodion said "Arkham" though.
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his face screws up at the mention of Arkham. ]
I don't know if it was a magical effect confined to the kitchen. Certainly didn't feel like it, but who knows how this shite works. We were-- prisoners. Patients. At an Asylum, for all of our supposed crimes.
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He will allow Lucien to do this, but only because it gives him time to bring out the mini scissors on the multi-tool and just
cut fastly right up through the back of Lucien's shirt to get it off before Lucien can move around too much.]
...Prisoners? And... Well, it's obvious you all didn't sit around in a cell the entire time.
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mildly shocked, shaking the remains of the shirt off of his arms. ]
If you wanted me naked that badly, you merely had to ask.
[ scoffing. ]
And 'course not. We broke out. Me and Kitew-- Rodya. [ he twitches, shaking his head and then, like he has no control over it. ] Hell yeah. [ MOVING ON. ] I think you were there, or some such? I don't know. We'd almost made it too, before being cheated out of it. Got told some complete nonsense about bombs in our heads, that we had to work "for our government." What feckin' government? Have you ever heard of--
[ oh, he digs in his pants pocket and pulls out an ID card. ]
America?
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He has to keep pausing!! He presses a few fingers into Lucien's back to try to keep it from moving around while he figures out what is a damn piece of metal and what's a piece of tattoo.
Lucien is so lucky he carries on through the hell yeah without making fun of it.]
Yes, she said I-- [thinking] --roared and tackled someone? Completely in character for me.
[His brows furrow as he works.]
America? No. By the sounds of it, it may be a worse place than the Undercity.
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[he hisses and jumps when he digs in in vengeance, tail lashing hard enough to whack him as he tries to work. it's all tattoos and blood and split skin, and he isn't doing his best to hold still either, shifting from foot to foot or flexing his shoulders as if it will relieve the pain. the eye in the pyramid at the top of his spine seems to stare back at viktor. the talking helps, at least he's distracted. ]
To be entirely fair, the porridge situation warranted it. [ he was also incensed by the food. ] It was worse than any armpit of hell I've ever slithered into, and there's a been a damned myriad of those. Point is, they wanted us to ... I don't know. Kill some rich fuck who was giving them problems. What's new, I suppose. He was raising the dead.
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Just let me get these last few pieces out, and I'll rinse your hair.
[He will not tell Lucien to be still because a) Lucien will disobey, he's learned, and b) it won't work anyway.]
Your story grows more and more fantastical and unbelievable as you tell it, you know. Raising the dead?
[JUST TALK WHILE HE PULLS OUT THESE LAST FEW PIECES.]
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Have you ever questioned the logic of a dream while you were in it? [ it made perfect sense at the time, like most dream things do. he pauses, because he hears those words come out of his mouth, apparently has to have a Moment about it - there's almost something of a laugh - and then pushes it back down. time for that later! ] Not true resurrection. Common necromancy. Shambling corpses and the like. They had-- Familiar faces.
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Familiar faces of people you know, or familiar faces of people here...?
[He picks out what he is praying is the final piece of metal. Molly, you really did a fucking number on the back with the tattoo, my dude. He reluctantly gets the towel so he can dab at the back while standing there and looking at the whole of it nosily.
HE'S LISTENING.]
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speaking of insane, lucien in the mirror is staring at lucien too, tentatively pulling at the claw marks on his face. they do seem to align to about the width of his hand, and the angle pulls down and towards himself. he has rather sharp claws. ]
The only faces I ever dream about. Mine. And hers. I'd dream of new ones if I could, but they're in me like a splinter. Fetid and bloated, nothing but decay. I can't purge the rot.
[ hell yeah. ]
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...
[Lucien, it's Thursday, now is not the time to have a hundredth mental break, someone is gonna be dead later!! Viktor reaches around to gently push the hand away.]
Don't pick at it, please. You'll have to rinse the hair in the sink. You'll bleed out faster than you already are if you use the shower. We won't even make it to the medbay.
Head down.
[Pockets the multi-tool and pops the gross towel over one shoulder. Eyeballing that stupid pyramid eyeball.]
So the undead had your and your friend's faces. Then what? The... necromancer? Did you get him?
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He ........ does as he's told. ducking his head so he can run it under the skin. ]
Aye. He's dead. Everyone wins and we all go home to sleep soundly with a job well done.
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Amazing how obedient Lucien can be when his hair is on the line. He's never had to wash the head of someone with massive horns he realizes.
He scoops some water over the back, then pushes the fingers of both hands up through Lucien's scalp to gently scrub. He fingers some of the strands, inquisitively looking at the green, trying to see if it's coming out.
Muttering to himself:] I wonder if the nanites malfunctioned... Are they integrated enough to control the brain and how outside stimuli are received...? [Forgot he might get jumpscared by an eye.]
If it was an illusion, you're safe now. Um, relatively. It is the day before a jump. But I'm real, so you're real. We're on the ship.
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[ sometimes you are just vain, man ............ also yeah there is a totally an eye under there.
the green does start to come out, it's not permanent. can you fucking imagine. he does sort of laugh at being called safe, because. sure. why not. ]
Certain about that?
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As best he can, he tries to go around the eye while scrubbing. He pulls the hair gently through his fingers to try squeezing as much of the green out as he can.]
I'm trying my best here. At least meet me half way. Whatever spacial anomaly occurred to you all, it was only that. It was messing with you, and it knew how. You're back and that's what matters.
Look on the bright side: the puke green is coming out of your hair.
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he does actually laugh at that, glancing up and pulling a face. ]
There is that. Not my color.
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