abraxaslogs | [open] july catchall

Entry tags:

[open] july catchall

Who: Viktor and special guests and YOU
When: July through early August
Where: Cadens, the Horizon, Nocwich
What: open stuff, closed stuff, whatever I WANT
Warnings: general sadsackery, the usual references to (previously) terminal illness, otherwise will list as needed

[open and closed starters in comments! If you want a custom starter or something specific, just hit me up. full horizon details are here for any and all wildcarding needs. For everything else, I’m on plurk at

whitticus and on discord at whitticus#8139.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ She isn't expecting gratitude or an outpouring of thanks. If war had taught her anything, it was that grief needed to be felt and no one was going to react in exactly the same way. Some were more destructive than others but that was hopefully a bridge they wouldn't have to cross any time soon.

While Hilda gets to work, Perry continues to clean outside, righting the toppled objects that aren't too heavy to be lifted by a ghostly presence and sweeping up broken glass and general dust that had settled in the space. She does manage to find some eggs and some bread. Along with her own offering for a study snack today had been some berries, she might be able to make a little compote or reduction. All that took was some sugar and heat after all. Foolproof, even for someone that hated cooking. The kettle is put on for tea and she places two cups and saucers gently down beside Viktor, brushing her hand lightly against his back as a show of comfort before bustling away again to cook and letting them lapse into silence until he wants to speak again.

And if he doesn't, well, that's okay too. ]

[Viktor sits quietly at the table, one thumb worrying at the cuticles of the other, but otherwise still. His gaze drops, focusing on nothing in particular, and the sound of Perry cleaning up in the main room of the workshop barely registers.

The hand at his back is welcome, though he doesn't respond much to it. He imagines the overall effect is one of abject misery.

Ordinarily, he might just sit in silence. It's still difficult, for him not to keep everything inside, even when prompted otherwise. And there's comfort, in sitting in this chair at this table while Perry cleans up nearby and Hilda busies herself with a breakfast he isn't even going to eat. He's not even sure about the tea, but he pulls the cup and saucer towards him more out of habit than a desire to drink anything.]

I don't--

[He speaks, finally, but it's soft and he has to force the words out.]

--know what to do.

[ Hilda hated silence. Notoriously, she would do everything in her power to fill it, but time and war has taught her that sometimes it's necessary and it's okay to sit in the silence of things. That doesn't mean that this is an incredible feat of self-control though, because it is. The tradeoff is that she can keep her hands busy while concentrating on keeping Perry cleaning in the workshop and allow Viktor whatever he needs.

Compote doesn't take that long to make and by the time she's finished she's got a tidy little breakfast along with some leftovers to store in a jar for Viktor if the mood strikes. Tea is poured, the toast is toasted and she slides onto the kitchen island next to him in time to hear him speak. She doesn't answer right away; there's often so much self-imposed pressure in trying to come up with the right things to say, the right things to do when someone is in need of comfort and, quietly, Hilda has never particularly had the confidence in being able to do either of those things despite all her bluster.

If you survived a battle during the war, there was an underlying insistence that you simply keep moving in every sense of the word. There was no time to dwell, even less time to mourn because if you did, then you weren't really focusing all your energy on surviving, on the next fight. But they aren't in the middle of a battlefield. And feelings demanded to be felt. There's a somber expression on her face and when she speaks up, it's quiet too as she lays a hand gently against his wrist. ]

You don't have to know what to do today. Or even tomorrow, really. We'll take it an hour at a time. [ 'We' as a gentle reminder that he isn't alone in this. The number of people that support and care for him isn't insignificant and she has no doubt that his friends will help him through this. ] I think it's enough that you even got up off the floor.

[It's a lot of effort just to admit that--Viktor is always working, always reaching some solution. For him to admit that he doesn't know what to do or where to turn is uncharacteristic of a mind that thrives on solving problems. This, however, is too big to surmount. Even an hour at a time feels like too much.

He pulls the teacup towards him and wraps his fingers around it, but can't seem to bring it upward just yet. The toast, similarly, goes untouched, and it's her hand against his wrist that finally gets him to speak again, words tumbling out before he can stop himself.]

We meant to buy this building and move in upstairs. The landlord we rent the workshop from is looking to sell.

[The mundane things hurt the most, he thinks. He can't go back to their apartment. He can't stay here, in this place that was supposed to be theirs. He's put the ring on a chain around his neck, under his clothes, and it feels like it's too hot against his skin.]

It was one of the last things we talked about.

[His voice wavers again, like that fact is just now sinking in. The last things they talked about.]

[ For a very long time, Hilda had always assumed all love stories fell in either one of two categories: exciting and thrilling, or dramatic and heart-wrenchingly tragic. It was all in part thanks to the countless romance books she devoured growing up. Her books shelves both here and in Fodlan had been chalk full of the stuff; very few other genres captured her interest unless there was a guaranteed love story woven into it. But love is the quiet moments in-between too. Domestic things like quiet, meaningful looks, like building a life together.

To have that torn away from you is far more tragic of a reality than she can begin to comprehend. The ring around his neck glints in the kitchen light and she recalls how blissfully happy he had been at the beach talking about it. Her fingers around his wrist curl around it comfortingly before leaning her head lightly against his shoulder. Hearing his voice wavers sends another sliver of pain through her heart. ]

I'm sorry, Viktor.

[ Her voice is heavy, thick with tears that she wants to shed for him but is holding back through sheer willpower and a refusal to burden him. The apology feels inadequate, but she doesn't know what else she can say. ]

I wish I could bring him back for you.

[ She draws in a breath, pausing, wondering if what she offers next is her trying to solve a problem that she knows isn't in her power to fix. ]

We have an extra room in the loft. If you want to stay with us while you figure out what to do next, you know there's always a place for you.

[Bring him back, she says, like he's dead. That's what this is, isn't it? Except, it isn't--it's somehow worse. Death is final, at least. Viktor can't even have that kind of closure.

The Jayce that he knew is simply gone. Vanished into some kind of dimensional aether. If the Singularity put him back right at the moment he left, erasing all memory and physical change from his time in Abraxas, then everything they had together has evaporated into nonexistence. Like a nice dream, he'd told Alucard, voicing concerns about the very situation he's in now. That's all it ever could have been.]

I know.

[Maybe he will see some version of Jayce again, from any of the infinite versions of Piltover that there could be. Maybe that would be enough. He knows, however, that it's just as likely not, in which case, what will he do? He will not stay here, complacent, waiting for the Singularity to rob him of the next thing.

He knows what he has to do. But it sounds insane, so instead, he puts a hand over Hilda's and leans into her in turn.]

Thank you. [He doesn't think he'll take her up on the offer, but it's good to know it's there, just in case.] It's...helpful. Knowing that you're here.

[ She doesn't mean to imply that the Jayce he knows is dead, and certainly doesn't mean to make it sound that way.

Because if that's what leaving Abraxas means - that some version of death awaited them - then that would mean that the people that Petra, Marianne and Felix had been while they had been here had also met a similar fate. Marianne and Felix may not have been here long enough to grow roots and settle in, but that didn't make death any less painful to think about. And the last thing Hilda wants to think about are the deaths that await her should she ever return to Fodlan, including, possibly, her own.

The weight of Viktor leaning into her along with his words helps draw her from thoughts, prompting her to wrap her arms around him. She can't help but laugh, but it's nowhere near as bright as it would normally be. Normally it would be easy for her to declare that she'd be there for him no matter what, except the "no matter what" came with a caveat that no one had any power over. ]

That's what friends are for. I'll be here for anything you need - and the things you don't need because I know how stubborn you are.

[ The last part at least has some of her usual cheekiness to it. ]

[Viktor isn't much for physical contact, but it is comforting, to have this in the moment. He can indulge, if only because it takes the slightest edge off of the pain. There's no weakness in doing this--he's only human, after all, suffering an incalculable loss. He's allowed to have this.

His shoulders shake, another round of tears escaping him as he leans into Hilda's embrace, his forehead resting against her shoulder.]

Okay.

[That's all he can really offer her--just an affirmation that he understands, and he appreciates it, even if he's not very good at making that known.]

If you could stay. For a while.

For as long as you want.

[ She says, quietly reassuring him. A hand goes to run gently through his hair in hope that that too will bring him some comfort as she feels the dampness of his tears eventually dot the fabric of her dress.

And Hilda stays true to her word, staying until the tea and toast grow cold, until his tears have dried. By the time it's time for her to depart, the lab looks marginally cleaner, or at the very least, the fallen things have been righted.

As she stands in the door, Hilda grasps his hands, giving them a squeeze and the lightest lift of her lips. ]

I'm just a message away, okay? I'll bring Veliki and Mali by next time. Also – I'm working on a couple of projects too that just need some enchanting before they're ready. Could I get your help with some of them?

[ She doesn't want him to get sucked into work but even she knows that distractions can be good and useful. ]

[He lets the silence settle around them after that, finding he has nothing else to say. With no appetite for anything, he simply sits with her, allowing himself the comfort of a friend's embrace. It doesn't fully take the pain away, but he doubts anything will, at this point.

Eventually, however, something has to give. He shifts, slightly, pressing the heel of his palm against his eyes, nodding slowly and swallowing hard. He understands what this is--an attempt to distract him--and he doesn't object.]

Please, come by whenever you like. [He means it. He thinks he might need it, a desperate bid to not be alone with his thoughts.] I'll take a look at whatever you have for me.

[ A glimmer of laughter sparks in her eyes, trying to bring some levity to the situation even though she knows it won't do much. ]

Just remember that you told me that when you tell me that I'm coming by too often.

[ She'd offer to stay the night if she thought he'd want her to. ]

I'll come tomorrow with so many things that we'll have to clean again. It's going to be okay – just take it one day at a time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[open] july catchall

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Fin? 💕