[ Upon the caller touching the podium, the lost soul will find their way into this holy house. Summoned as a soft silhouette of light, anyone can confirm it is Viktor and the summoned can take a glance at his unfamiliar surroundings.
It is a church.
It almost seems like the complete opposite of a place one would go for spiritual peace.
Large stained glass windows cover the walls, depicting scenes of hands coming together, intertwined with vine-like structures, and groups of humanoid figures happily reveling with one another. Rows of pews are lined up facing the dais where there is no altar, but rather, a podium.
At the podium is his caller and right beside them is Amalthea.
Here 3 questions will be answered, no more and (hopefully) no less. ]
lucien will stay up by the podium for the moment, leaning on it on one elbow, claws drumming a beat into the wood impatiently until something appears, at which point he'll glance over at Amalthea for confirmation. he already seems keyed up, so this will probably go great. ]
I didn't think of the other two questions yet.
[ don't just say outloud you didn't plan ahead. then to viktor or, at least, the glowing space where he might be. ]
I get three questions, but I'm trying something. If I don't ask a question, you can maybe stick around for a bit more.
[Not this little glow silhouette of Viktor appearing. At least he's whole. HE IS LOOKING ALL AROUND BECAUSE OF COURSE HE IS. What the FCK is this church. He has never been in a church in his life(?).
Almost immediately, he starts hurriedly talking to Lucien, but quickly fazes almost right on out of existence. Goodbye.
[ okay well he was all prepared to be an imperious, ill-tempered asshole pretending to maintain some sort of emotional distance but then viktor almost flicks out of existence and back to whatever rats-and-teeth hellhole they're storing these lot in and lucien panics instead - bolting off the dais to wherever he is and coming over like he's going to physically help in any way. idiot.
guess that means he probably can't talk without being asked a question first, or at least, that's the assumption he's going to make. ]
Alright, alright - shite - we'll start with the easy ones [ struggling to remember his own questions. ] Anything you want me to pass on to anyone here?
He is back, he is back. He's glowing like a soft light bulb, but up close, vaguely more Viktor now. He has a lil dark spot on his temple, and he's smiling somewhat sadly as Lucien gets to him. He reaches out, probably to touch Lucien, but passes through.
He stands thoughtfully for a moment. He thinks Lucien is clever enough for the other two, so:]
I want you to tell Lucien that the ghost who had his body is probably a piece of him, and he needs to put the pieces back together to make the ghost go away. Tell him to just think about it.
[Starting off strong and painful, why not. He puts a finger to his lips. Don't fuck up and waste questions.]
he shivers when the hand passes through him, hands clenching as it does. there's a strange expression that passes over him when viktor chooses to say that - legitimate rage, fear, panic, and then he swallows it all, looking tired instead. what an opener. he knew this was going to be taking a baseball bat to the fragile china display cabinet that's is his psyche, but this is more of a chainsaw revving.
he's pacing a little circle before coming back over to stop him front of him again, jaw tight. ]
Throné says the book you were reading was terrible. And that she misses you. But you may know that, it's clear there's some messages going through the HER-MES, though I don't know how intentional it can be. I saw yours. I think. So I suppose keep trying that.
[He lets Lucien do the lap without any rush. He does not rush anything actually because, like Lucien, he thinks if they could just... drag out the minutes despite how useless that must be stuck here, in a godforsaken church, basing conversation on questions.
It's more than nothing, but less than something.
His head and eyes follow Lucien's look to Amalthea. He lowers his voice:]
Not all of them. Maybe not ████████. [He looks frustrated for a moment at the blip out he does, naturally.] But ██ might help you if you play your cards right. I don't know how much they can help. They can't ████████.
[ that's the problem, isn't it. it's almost torture to talk again, when he could just be doing the important work of burying and forgetting instead. that's the problem with all the ghosts here, chattering in the HER-MES, appearing at the corners of his vision, whispering just out of the range of his understanding.
but seeing ghosts is a common experience for him. a habit, honestly, even when he's not being cursed with it.
weirdly enough, despite everything, he doesn't think this is the worst thing to ask in front of amalthea. ]
Not all of them. Right.
[ Maybe now they've started talking and the connection has taken, then he can keep it up. Even if it has to be silence. he knows silence can work - dahut was able to stay in silence for a short while. ]
I was warned about ... shedding my physical coil, or something if I remain overlong.
[ but the way he says this comes with the implication he's going to try. since there's no question involved. ]
[His expression grows worried and pensive. He looks like there is so much he wants to say. There is so much he wants to say. Not even about all of this. About... them maybe.
He's shaking his head very gently, knowing already Lucien is a stubborn bastard. Don't do that, idiod. But he probably would be, too?
He steps forward, right up to Lucien, close. His head tips slightly, and he rests his cheek against Lucien's head. There's, like, no real weight to it because he is a stupid glowing silhouette, but whatever. The thought that counts. He stays like this without moving.]
You can talk.
[Just because he is reduced to mostly silence doesn't mean Lucien has to suffer the same fate.]
[ he stays very still while he moves to do that, breath coming out in a long, shaking sigh. there's no real weight to it, and the glow makes his vision burn and blur. he tips his head towards him in return, as if he's trying to make it feel like something. that he can force that to happen with enough sheer power of will. if he can talk to the dead, if he can reach through the thin veil, then grasping something can't be that far off.
but he can talk. he's good at the speeches. ]
It's not fair. [ his face is hot and he has to screw his eyes shut. he feels like a child, raw and weak and haunted. ] It's not fucking fair. I didn't feel like anything for a long time, and then you tell me all sorts of nonsense and I think that it's insane, absolutely improbable, but there is someone who understands it. And then you leave me here. Alone.
Everyone here simpers and whines and gives idiotic speeches about time, giving it space, closure, whatever nonsense they believe. Missing people, as if that's anything but words. And I'm supposed to pick up the pieces. But there aren't pieces left. It's just empty.
[ pulling back to pace again, bringing his hands up like he's going to claw his face again, maybe, pressing the edge of them into his cheek. ] The journal showed up again. I can't go anywhere in this damned universe without it following me. I've become distracted. Distance nor death can shake it. But still--
[ whirling on him, spitting rage. ] I have to fish you out of the gods-be-damned soup! Fuck you! Bastard.
So, last question: What the hell do we do next? All of us, here. Fixing it.
[Though he has little other choice, he gives the theater boy center stage to say whatever. And he doesn't mind when it's chaotic, when it's sad, when it's full of vitriol. It's reassuring actually. That Lucien trusts him enough to show it, to say it. That Lucien is capable of feeling it. That Lucien can voice the same things he is feeling, but can't voice himself. Lucien is hurting, and he can't even... he can't even say, Me, too. When will the Hex Core appear to plague him in the same way it had before?
Lucien walks away, and his throat tightens. Helplessly, he half wanders after Lucien, slow, like some kind of thrall, only stopping when Lucien turns on him.
He goes through the gambit of emotions. The smile he gives is weak, all at once sad, and pained, and amused, apologetic--and guilty. His chin lowers. Yes, he's the one getting fished out of the universal garbage soup. He wants to tell Lucien to forget about that, forget about him. But he doesn't want Lucien to forget about him. When he lifts his head again, he moves closer, taking up the space he had before. Gently, he reaches up to touch Lucien's lips, Lucien's cheek and jaw, not knowing if he will simply vanish as soon as the last words leave his mouth.
His brows furrow with effort, he wills whatever damned primordial energy through, glowing brighter, fizzling, brighter, until the barest texture goes by. He blips out completely, like a winking star, and then slowly returns again.]
...Give us a little more time to tell you. There's nothing but--scr█ps. Work███ with scraps. Find the one who doesn't b█l█ng for now. You know them. Find out ███ they're looking for. Help the others r███mb█r. Something happened here. B██ore.
lucien goes stock still as he moves in closer again, as if he's deciding if he's going to run the complete opposite direction or not. but instead he just ... gives in. dropping his head too, hair falling in his face, glowering at him at the same time as he tries to lean his forehead against viktor's - or where it would be, if it were tangible.
he can't forget about anyone. especially not this. he can bury the memory, he can damn the past, he can forbid the names be spoken aloud, but he's never been able to simply forget. it'd be easier if he could, if he could allow time to heal the scars instead of feeding the rot, slipping the skin looser. he (flurry voice) sniffs, reaching a hand up to push roughly across his eye, playing it off like he's seeing things. ]
Don't you dare fucking leave right now.
[ without moving, he glances over to amalthea - gritting his teeth, addressing them. ]
Well, he didn't blink out of existence (a terrifying thought), but now worry is bubbling up in his stomach.] Lucien... [It is the most lackluster warning. He is a man of science; testing mad ghost science is familiar actually.
The issue is he always tests on himself, no one else is ever involved.
His brows furrow. He glances in Amalthea's direction, too, and his glow dims and brightens like a slow heart beat. His jaw tightens a bit.]
Be careful... There is always another time. You can talk to me again.
[ flurry is going to beat me with a hammer when she sees this
crossing his arms tightly over himself, claws tightening into the sleeve of his coat. ]
I don't know if-- I'm going to damn well try, but she doesn't know if it was work again. I'm going to try. I don't ... I'll make it work. I will break it if I have to.
Keep sending to the HER-MES. Or whatever way you can. But I'll fix it.
[He wants to say that's okay. If it doesn't work, that's okay. Once was barely a taste, but he can deal... knowing Lucien knows, knowing they had a chance. But he doesn't think Lucien will listen to him. Lucien won't be reassured.
He reaches up to put his hand over Lucien's crossed arms, wanting desperately to be able to squeeze them in his hand.]
I will. I'm glad... I got to see your stupid face again. They need you, you know. They all need you there, so... take care of yourself, Lucien. Don't do anything... too crazy.
[ yeah, listen, unfortunately, the lucien-is-always-right clause includes a subclause that he can't be fuckin' told anything.
his hand twitches, almost impulsively, leaning in again as he hears what sounds like it could be a goodbye, instantly rioting against the idea. ]
I'm not fucking leaving you there, and you best get used to the gods-damn idea because you aren't here to stop me from doing anything I want and I can be as insane as I like. I'll get that done and I'll fire that big fuck off ship cannon while I'm at it.
Don't get too cozy with that smug, rich fish either-- [ is that gonna be the note he leaves this on. ] I'll see you soon.
[ Amalthea keeps the podium channeling, but this eventually has to end... The dead and the living are meant to be separated—that divide is important.
While Viktor returns whence he came, Lucien finds himself slipping. For a moment, he can feel Viktor's presence, warmth, touch... and see his surroundings change. It's no longer a church, but an abandoned space where pulsing flesh grows through the cracks. He can faintly make sense of tables and chairs, but not much else from the darkness that shadows his vision. Yet in that darkness, Viktor becomes clearer and clearer with each passing second.
... The soft humming from the channeling podium ends, but these sensations continue.
Lucien feels his soul and body slowly split, sinew to sinew... He can be with him, if he wanted. He can abandon this shell. The excruciating pain is temporary, after all. ]
Goodbye, Mister Viktor... I will pray for everyone's return. May we see you again.
[ Lucien will feel a deathly chill from the touch of Amalthea's hand and the seance ends, he's back. Good jorb. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It is a church.At the podium is his caller and right beside them is Amalthea.
Here 3 questions will be answered, no more and (hopefully) no less. ]
no subject
lucien will stay up by the podium for the moment, leaning on it on one elbow, claws drumming a beat into the wood impatiently until something appears, at which point he'll glance over at Amalthea for confirmation. he already seems keyed up, so this will probably go great. ]
I didn't think of the other two questions yet.
[ don't just say outloud you didn't plan ahead. then to viktor or, at least, the glowing space where he might be. ]
I get three questions, but I'm trying something. If I don't ask a question, you can maybe stick around for a bit more.
no subject
Almost immediately, he starts hurriedly talking to Lucien, but quickly fazes almost right on out of existence. Goodbye.
Realizing this, he shuts up until he comes back.]
...
no subject
[ okay well he was all prepared to be an imperious, ill-tempered asshole pretending to maintain some sort of emotional distance but then viktor almost flicks out of existence and back to whatever rats-and-teeth hellhole they're storing these lot in and lucien panics instead - bolting off the dais to wherever he is and coming over like he's going to physically help in any way. idiot.
guess that means he probably can't talk without being asked a question first, or at least, that's the assumption he's going to make. ]
Alright, alright - shite - we'll start with the easy ones [ struggling to remember his own questions. ] Anything you want me to pass on to anyone here?
no subject
He is back, he is back. He's glowing like a soft light bulb, but up close, vaguely more Viktor now. He has a lil dark spot on his temple, and he's smiling somewhat sadly as Lucien gets to him. He reaches out, probably to touch Lucien, but passes through.
He stands thoughtfully for a moment. He thinks Lucien is clever enough for the other two, so:]
I want you to tell Lucien that the ghost who had his body is probably a piece of him, and he needs to put the pieces back together to make the ghost go away. Tell him to just think about it.
[Starting off strong and painful, why not. He puts a finger to his lips. Don't fuck up and waste questions.]
Ask me another.
no subject
he shivers when the hand passes through him, hands clenching as it does. there's a strange expression that passes over him when viktor chooses to say that - legitimate rage, fear, panic, and then he swallows it all, looking tired instead. what an opener. he knew this was going to be taking a baseball bat to the fragile china display cabinet that's is his psyche, but this is more of a chainsaw revving.
he's pacing a little circle before coming back over to stop him front of him again, jaw tight. ]
Throné says the book you were reading was terrible. And that she misses you. But you may know that, it's clear there's some messages going through the HER-MES, though I don't know how intentional it can be. I saw yours. I think. So I suppose keep trying that.
[ his gaze slides over to amalthea. ]
Can we trust the Senior Crew?
no subject
It's more than nothing, but less than something.
His head and eyes follow Lucien's look to Amalthea. He lowers his voice:]
Not all of them. Maybe not ████████. [He looks frustrated for a moment at the blip out he does, naturally.] But ██ might help you if you play your cards right. I don't know how much they can help. They can't ████████.
no subject
but seeing ghosts is a common experience for him. a habit, honestly, even when he's not being cursed with it.
weirdly enough, despite everything, he doesn't think this is the worst thing to ask in front of amalthea. ]
Not all of them. Right.
[ Maybe now they've started talking and the connection has taken, then he can keep it up. Even if it has to be silence. he knows silence can work - dahut was able to stay in silence for a short while. ]
I was warned about ... shedding my physical coil, or something if I remain overlong.
[ but the way he says this comes with the implication he's going to try. since there's no question involved. ]
no subject
He's shaking his head very gently, knowing already Lucien is a stubborn bastard. Don't do that, idiod. But he probably would be, too?
He steps forward, right up to Lucien, close. His head tips slightly, and he rests his cheek against Lucien's head. There's, like, no real weight to it because he is a stupid glowing silhouette, but whatever. The thought that counts. He stays like this without moving.]
You can talk.
[Just because he is reduced to mostly silence doesn't mean Lucien has to suffer the same fate.]
no subject
but he can talk. he's good at the speeches. ]
It's not fair. [ his face is hot and he has to screw his eyes shut. he feels like a child, raw and weak and haunted. ] It's not fucking fair. I didn't feel like anything for a long time, and then you tell me all sorts of nonsense and I think that it's insane, absolutely improbable, but there is someone who understands it. And then you leave me here. Alone.
Everyone here simpers and whines and gives idiotic speeches about time, giving it space, closure, whatever nonsense they believe. Missing people, as if that's anything but words. And I'm supposed to pick up the pieces. But there aren't pieces left. It's just empty.
[ pulling back to pace again, bringing his hands up like he's going to claw his face again, maybe, pressing the edge of them into his cheek. ] The journal showed up again. I can't go anywhere in this damned universe without it following me. I've become distracted. Distance nor death can shake it. But still--
[ whirling on him, spitting rage. ] I have to fish you out of the gods-be-damned soup! Fuck you! Bastard.
So, last question: What the hell do we do next? All of us, here. Fixing it.
no subject
Lucien walks away, and his throat tightens. Helplessly, he half wanders after Lucien, slow, like some kind of thrall, only stopping when Lucien turns on him.
He goes through the gambit of emotions. The smile he gives is weak, all at once sad, and pained, and amused, apologetic--and guilty. His chin lowers. Yes, he's the one getting fished out of the universal garbage soup. He wants to tell Lucien to forget about that, forget about him. But he doesn't want Lucien to forget about him. When he lifts his head again, he moves closer, taking up the space he had before. Gently, he reaches up to touch Lucien's lips, Lucien's cheek and jaw, not knowing if he will simply vanish as soon as the last words leave his mouth.
His brows furrow with effort, he wills whatever damned primordial energy through, glowing brighter, fizzling, brighter, until the barest texture goes by. He blips out completely, like a winking star, and then slowly returns again.]
...Give us a little more time to tell you. There's nothing but--scr█ps. Work███ with scraps. Find the one who doesn't b█l█ng for now. You know them. Find out ███ they're looking for. Help the others r███mb█r. Something happened here. B██ore.
no subject
lucien goes stock still as he moves in closer again, as if he's deciding if he's going to run the complete opposite direction or not. but instead he just ... gives in. dropping his head too, hair falling in his face, glowering at him at the same time as he tries to lean his forehead against viktor's - or where it would be, if it were tangible.
he can't forget about anyone. especially not this. he can bury the memory, he can damn the past, he can forbid the names be spoken aloud, but he's never been able to simply forget. it'd be easier if he could, if he could allow time to heal the scars instead of feeding the rot, slipping the skin looser. he (flurry voice) sniffs, reaching a hand up to push roughly across his eye, playing it off like he's seeing things. ]
Don't you dare fucking leave right now.
[ without moving, he glances over to amalthea - gritting his teeth, addressing them. ]
I'm not going to sever it.
[ we're gonna do some mad ghost science. ]
no subject
Well, he didn't blink out of existence (a terrifying thought), but now worry is bubbling up in his stomach.] Lucien... [It is the most lackluster warning. He is a man of science; testing mad ghost science is familiar actually.
The issue is he always tests on himself, no one else is ever involved.
His brows furrow. He glances in Amalthea's direction, too, and his glow dims and brightens like a slow heart beat. His jaw tightens a bit.]
Be careful... There is always another time. You can talk to me again.
no subject
crossing his arms tightly over himself, claws tightening into the sleeve of his coat. ]
I don't know if-- I'm going to damn well try, but she doesn't know if it was work again. I'm going to try. I don't ... I'll make it work. I will break it if I have to.
Keep sending to the HER-MES. Or whatever way you can. But I'll fix it.
no subject
He reaches up to put his hand over Lucien's crossed arms, wanting desperately to be able to squeeze them in his hand.]
I will. I'm glad... I got to see your stupid face again. They need you, you know. They all need you there, so... take care of yourself, Lucien. Don't do anything... too crazy.
no subject
his hand twitches, almost impulsively, leaning in again as he hears what sounds like it could be a goodbye, instantly rioting against the idea. ]
I'm not fucking leaving you there, and you best get used to the gods-damn idea because you aren't here to stop me from doing anything I want and I can be as insane as I like. I'll get that done and I'll fire that big fuck off ship cannon while I'm at it.
Don't get too cozy with that smug, rich fish either-- [ is that gonna be the note he leaves this on. ] I'll see you soon.
no subject
While Viktor returns whence he came, Lucien finds himself slipping. For a moment, he can feel Viktor's presence, warmth, touch... and see his surroundings change. It's no longer a church, but an abandoned space where pulsing flesh grows through the cracks. He can faintly make sense of tables and chairs, but not much else from the darkness that shadows his vision. Yet in that darkness, Viktor becomes clearer and clearer with each passing second.
... The soft humming from the channeling podium ends, but these sensations continue.
Lucien feels his soul and body slowly split, sinew to sinew... He can be with him, if he wanted. He can abandon this shell. The excruciating pain is temporary, after all. ]
Goodbye, Mister Viktor... I will pray for everyone's return. May we see you again.
[ Lucien will feel a deathly chill from the touch of Amalthea's hand and the seance ends, he's back. Good jorb. ]