It is, for all intents and purposes, a very normal day in the Helly Belly for Viktor. They have received their new blood, Gregor tumbling through the Grinder in typical fashion. At the same time, Viktor... is not feeling very normal. It starts in small bits and fits at first, nothing painful, but rather a distinct tugging, a pulling sensation. First at his extremities, then at his skull. It's the subtle tug of fingers on your clothing, a touch to your hair, and then throughout the day it turns —
Hands on your wrists, a fist in the back of your shirt. One moment you are wherever you happen to be (the egg lab? Your pod? Sitting down for a meal at the Canteen with your compatriots?)
The next... you are not here anymore. The next... you are elsewhere. You are...
Confined. You are somewhere hot and wet and dark, too dark to see. All you have are your hands, your body, feeling around in the indiscernible blackness. It's hard to breathe in here. The tugging continues, pulling, sharp and fast now.
Quickly.
A memory comes to Viktor, a precious one, any precious one you can think of, it comes to him and holds him, cradles him close in bits and pieces, fragments. What is this memory? As small as a person, as big as a place, anything, an anchor... anything.
The grabbing is weird, but nothing is as weird as suddenly not being in the Belly. Immediately, panic shoots hot up through him. He struggles. THERE IS NO REASON FOR IT TO BE HOT, WET, AND DARK! The struggling turns into frantic clawing and digging.
Let him out, let him out, let him out!
The memory is teetering on one of the flimsy shelves of a tall and wide bookshelf in a dark world, reaching precariously for the spine of a book at the very top with the handle of the crutch he used to hobble around on. He's feeling mischievous. The book comes loose while someone is talking, and then the book drops right down on top of a purple head, right in the center of it...]
[ what the fuck in god's name is right. maybe you shouldn't have brought the scorn egg machine into the graveyard, huh? i'm never forgiving you for that.
viktor digs in as best he can. the mucosal lining of it all is slick against his fingertips, but he can gain purchase out of sheer panic (letmeoutletmeoutletmeout). he claws in and the entire area around him convulses, twitches, tightens. not being in the belly would be frightening, wouldn't it? terrifying even. if you're not in the belly, then wherever the hell are you?
viktor grasps onto that memory, just as fast as he's grasping onto these walls, trying to escape their confines. this precarious book, this mischievous nature - it's precious and fills him with the determination to keep going. the sharp pain of a book smacking atop of a head -
do you remember this person? do you remember this very precious person? the walls ooze slickly, seeping between your fingers. something scatters ahead from your fingertips - data...? it looks... it looks like numbers, letters, digits, symbols, from you. it anchors you here, makes the walls not so slick, makes it easier for you to grasp and pull, pull (letmeoutletmeout)...
purple.
was the head purple? or was it blonde? maybe brunette? who was that person?
viktor, you know that you remember. hold onto that. you remember who this person was, right? perhaps... perhaps another memory. remember something else. quickly. you feel as though that... that might help you inch a little further ahead. ]
He recoils for a second when he realizes whatever darkness he's digging through is organic. The feeling puts a lump in his throat, he wants to gag. The shuddering around him is worse. But he can't stay here.
Again, he starts struggling through the mucous. Maybe it was brown? Dark. Like Jayce's?
Who is Jayce exactly? He's not sure about that name now. Maybe it was Joshua?
Panic swells up in him again. He's... forgetting? He's forgetting. Or maybe he just never remembered? Distraught, writhing, he tries to think of another.
A woman with dark hair is coming into the room with her arms full of clothes, and he is so bewildered, but also amused. She is sheepish, but happy. She has stolen so many clothes for herself, and he laughs while trying to fight her over helping carry them inside so they can figure out where to put all of them. She settles on stealing his closet, too...]
it is quite a thing, to lose those memories? those precious things?
jayce, joshua, jordan...
lucien, loren, lyle...? no... no none of those seem right, you know in that space between your ribs, that beating muscle you call a heart, that those aren't the right names at all.
the woman with dark hair approaches with her clothes-laden arms, her sheepish expression something that you keep high up in your throat, closing now. you remember her. you remember. that's throné, isn't it? throné anguis... she's precious to you. these are your precious people.
the area around you constricts. a rumbling, familiar to you, rumbling. (comebackhere).
hold fast. hold tight. the data from your fingertips pulls faster, from your hands, from your arms now.
the book falls - a flash of purple - that's lucien. you know lucien - you have known him, beyond the void and in the sacred room of the church where you speak and pass what knowledge you can, where divided still there is something that breaks inside of you and melts.
a voice: "hold steady. i think... i think i'm getting something."
do you: > try another memory > climb some more and risk being constricted further
there is no wrong answer. any choice is right if you will it. ]
[Yes! YES! It's Throné! Throné who brought all of those clothes into their room to hoard, and she looked good in every one!
Yes! It was Lucien, and his stupid purple head that got the book--on purpose because he was being annoying.
The rumbling makes him tense. The Belly...? The data is such a jumble, and it all slips through his digging, climbing fingers. But he does stop when the darkness around him squeezes. He gasps, and then he tries to yell, but he doesn't know if anything comes out.
A memory. A memory. His memories. He doesn't want to lose them.
The door behind them is rattling furiously. A man's voice is yelling. He runs back to the table with a broad, tanned man while the machine they are with starts up, whirring. J-- says it isn't going to work, and he yells that it will, they don't have much time.
Crank it! That's what he had said--it's Jayce, and they are three seconds from discovering Hextech.]
I want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveLETMELIVEI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to liveI want to live
Do I even deserve to be alive?
well?
do you?
do you deserve to be alive?
(the man's name is jayce, the man's name is jayce and you clutch it so tightly in your heart, in the deep pit of your emotions and your desires, you hold it fast until you bore marks into it. these names, these faces, these people who have burrowed so far and fast into your life...
they're here, in your memories.
and they're there, up there, alive...
and they are waiting for you.
"almost there... you're almost there, come on... maybe you can't hear us... but come on, almost there..." ]
Viktor will find... that he awakens, slowly at first, coldly second. Over him, he can see it, the window of the stasis pod, and a few shadows overtop of it.
All he has to do is tap the glass. All he has to do is tap.
He squints. He wonders if he's dreaming actually. Do they dream in the Belly except for the times when they...? He can't remember. He's too tired to consider it.
The feeling of being constricted is so lingering that it takes him a moment to realize he can reach up and put his hand on the glass, a little too heavily, so it's more of a loud thunk rather than an inquisitive tapping.]
I'll get it, hang on - [ there's a pneumonic hiss, and the fluids of the stasis bay pod begin to drain out before it can fully open. but, then, there are reaching hands, gentler than the ones that grasped at him the first time around when he was snatched up from the Helly Belly. they are different sizes, gloved and ungloved, carefully offering him sanctuary from the constriction and the desire want want need hunger that had tried to take him back.
this is an offer of freedom. ]
Welcome back, Viktor. Take it easy. We've got you.
All the hands again make him flinch, but then he relaxes slowly, and once he's certain they aren't connected to some starving thing trying to drag him back, he grasps at them. He doesn't even know if his legs work, but whatever.
He does not want to be in a belly, or a pod, or any of that organic darkness shit anymore.]
W--
[He chokes at first, coughing roughly a few times until he can find his voice.]
[ one of the hands helping to ease him at least upright is... ganymede! his helmet is off, so he can see his face full of gentle concern. he does seem to laugh with amalthea's inquiry though.
for note, metis is here but metis' mod is not available right this moment - it appears that he's monitoring the equipment that has been set up around viktor's stasis bay pod, actually. ]
I'm not as, ah, equipped to explain it as maybe Io or Amalthea are, but you're back with the living. Easy does it - it's going to be a lot to take in, and we don't want your body to go into shock.
[ he's just going to be over here monitoring the arrival. he'll wait until he's kind of settled/had his first words before going in on any examinations just yet.
also ig i'll bring him a wheelchair for his frail victorian body. ]
Welcome back, Viktor... I know it's not exactly an easy adjustment to make... but I think it's perhaps a better one?
'Tis good to see you whole and well again, my friend.
[ Well... to a degree! Metis greets with a warm smile, there to help aid him if he so needs. Though he tends to some of the monitors before he fully looks him over. ]
How are your memories? Do you remember everything..? You'll be disorientated for a bit, I'm sure, but I hope your memory is still mostly intact.
Viktor has been resurrected with the hard work of some folks handling the back end of things late into the evening. Amalthea, Ganymede, Io, and Metis may make the rounds, but Viktor will have another visitor, Arthur. They're here to help him with anything he might need immediately. Food, water, a soft place to land, readjusting to the land of the living. He will be prescribed strict bed rest for the time being. Until Monday afternoon.
"We want to make sure that it sticks. Bear with us."
As much as Viktor would indeed probably like to contact someone on this fine, fine Sunday... he'll find that every effort to do anything but rest will be met with dizziness and weakness. His body is as fragile as... dare we say... an egg? (Kidding.) He'll, however, feel that he is all sensations, barely any thought beyond alive. He is, for all intents and purposes going to need the rest. He's been through it. His crutch will be available for him to utilize if he wants to walkabout the room and test his living legs again.
However, sometimes a little company can make the bedrest more bearable. He will be allowed two guests of his choosing, late at night, to visit him where he is currently being kept. He may ping his location, and it will appear to be some sort of unmarked location on the Eudora. It looks like it might be a spare room with a bit of medical monitoring equipment here, food and water for him to get his strength back, some books, a couple of chairs, and blankets at the foot of his bed to keep warm. So get cozy... and everyone else will see you tomorrow.
[ aka, you may pc 2 people, pinging them to your location. they will be allowed to enter and interact with viktor! we implore you to please keep this quiet and to have them keep it quiet as well. viktor will be told this ahead of time. this is to avoid overwhelming his newly-returned body. you may have all pcs (with your 2 choices and arthur, since he Knows) in your various catch-alls! you can also audience npcs if you wish. happy late easter! ]
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The grabbing is weird, but nothing is as weird as suddenly not being in the Belly. Immediately, panic shoots hot up through him. He struggles. THERE IS NO REASON FOR IT TO BE HOT, WET, AND DARK! The struggling turns into frantic clawing and digging.
Let him out, let him out, let him out!
The memory is teetering on one of the flimsy shelves of a tall and wide bookshelf in a dark world, reaching precariously for the spine of a book at the very top with the handle of the crutch he used to hobble around on. He's feeling mischievous. The book comes loose while someone is talking, and then the book drops right down on top of a purple head, right in the center of it...]
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viktor digs in as best he can. the mucosal lining of it all is slick against his fingertips, but he can gain purchase out of sheer panic (letmeoutletmeoutletmeout). he claws in and the entire area around him convulses, twitches, tightens. not being in the belly would be frightening, wouldn't it? terrifying even. if you're not in the belly, then wherever the hell are you?
viktor grasps onto that memory, just as fast as he's grasping onto these walls, trying to escape their confines. this precarious book, this mischievous nature - it's precious and fills him with the determination to keep going. the sharp pain of a book smacking atop of a head -
do you remember this person? do you remember this very precious person? the walls ooze slickly, seeping between your fingers. something scatters ahead from your fingertips - data...? it looks... it looks like numbers, letters, digits, symbols, from you. it anchors you here, makes the walls not so slick, makes it easier for you to grasp and pull, pull (letmeoutletmeout)...
purple.
was the head purple? or was it blonde? maybe brunette? who was that person?
viktor, you know that you remember. hold onto that. you remember who this person was, right? perhaps... perhaps another memory. remember something else. quickly. you feel as though that... that might help you inch a little further ahead. ]
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He recoils for a second when he realizes whatever darkness he's digging through is organic. The feeling puts a lump in his throat, he wants to gag. The shuddering around him is worse. But he can't stay here.
Again, he starts struggling through the mucous. Maybe it was brown? Dark. Like Jayce's?
Who is Jayce exactly? He's not sure about that name now. Maybe it was Joshua?
Panic swells up in him again. He's... forgetting? He's forgetting. Or maybe he just never remembered? Distraught, writhing, he tries to think of another.
A woman with dark hair is coming into the room with her arms full of clothes, and he is so bewildered, but also amused. She is sheepish, but happy. She has stolen so many clothes for herself, and he laughs while trying to fight her over helping carry them inside so they can figure out where to put all of them. She settles on stealing his closet, too...]
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it is quite a thing, to lose those memories? those precious things?
jayce, joshua, jordan...
lucien, loren, lyle...? no... no none of those seem right, you know in that space between your ribs, that beating muscle you call a heart, that those aren't the right names at all.
the woman with dark hair approaches with her clothes-laden arms, her sheepish expression something that you keep high up in your throat, closing now. you remember her. you remember. that's throné, isn't it? throné anguis... she's precious to you. these are your precious people.
the area around you constricts. a rumbling, familiar to you, rumbling. (comebackhere).
hold fast. hold tight. the data from your fingertips pulls faster, from your hands, from your arms now.
the book falls - a flash of purple - that's lucien. you know lucien - you have known him, beyond the void and in the sacred room of the church where you speak and pass what knowledge you can, where divided still there is something that breaks inside of you and melts.
a voice: "hold steady. i think... i think i'm getting something."
do you:
> try another memory
> climb some more and risk being constricted further
there is no wrong answer. any choice is right if you will it. ]
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Yes! It was Lucien, and his stupid purple head that got the book--on purpose because he was being annoying.
The rumbling makes him tense. The Belly...? The data is such a jumble, and it all slips through his digging, climbing fingers. But he does stop when the darkness around him squeezes. He gasps, and then he tries to yell, but he doesn't know if anything comes out.
A memory. A memory. His memories. He doesn't want to lose them.
The door behind them is rattling furiously. A man's voice is yelling. He runs back to the table with a broad, tanned man while the machine they are with starts up, whirring. J-- says it isn't going to work, and he yells that it will, they don't have much time.
Crank it! That's what he had said--it's Jayce, and they are three seconds from discovering Hextech.]
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like food escaping from the jaws of a predator, narrowly wiggling, climbing through a gullet, desperate to leave, to survive...
sounds familiar, doesn't it? familiar... final... thoughts...
well?
do you?
do you deserve to be alive?
(the man's name is jayce, the man's name is jayce and you clutch it so tightly in your heart, in the deep pit of your emotions and your desires, you hold it fast until you bore marks into it. these names, these faces, these people who have burrowed so far and fast into your life...
they're here, in your memories.
and they're there, up there, alive...
and they are waiting for you.
"almost there... you're almost there, come on... maybe you can't hear us... but come on, almost there..." ]
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RETURNAL.
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He squints. He wonders if he's dreaming actually. Do they dream in the Belly except for the times when they...? He can't remember. He's too tired to consider it.
The feeling of being constricted is so lingering that it takes him a moment to realize he can reach up and put his hand on the glass, a little too heavily, so it's more of a loud thunk rather than an inquisitive tapping.]
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Did you hear that..?
Oh, the pod!
I'll get it, hang on - [ there's a pneumonic hiss, and the fluids of the stasis bay pod begin to drain out before it can fully open. but, then, there are reaching hands, gentler than the ones that grasped at him the first time around when he was snatched up from the Helly Belly. they are different sizes, gloved and ungloved, carefully offering him sanctuary from the constriction and the desire want want need hunger that had tried to take him back.
this is an offer of freedom. ]
Welcome back, Viktor. Take it easy. We've got you.
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All the hands again make him flinch, but then he relaxes slowly, and once he's certain they aren't connected to some starving thing trying to drag him back, he grasps at them. He doesn't even know if his legs work, but whatever.
He does not want to be in a belly, or a pod, or any of that organic darkness shit anymore.]
W--
[He chokes at first, coughing roughly a few times until he can find his voice.]
What's... going on...?
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Mister Viktor? Is that you? We didn't pull someone else, right?
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Amal...thea...?
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[ Arm motions to like... Want to give him a welcome hug or like touch his shoulder, but you just came from pod birth and must be feeling weak. ]
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for note, metis is here but metis' mod is not available right this moment - it appears that he's monitoring the equipment that has been set up around viktor's stasis bay pod, actually. ]
I'm not as, ah, equipped to explain it as maybe Io or Amalthea are, but you're back with the living. Easy does it - it's going to be a lot to take in, and we don't want your body to go into shock.
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He's unsteady, but at least doesn't fall into the floor like would be expected because his constitution is 1, how the fuck did he make it here?!]
I'm--back with the what?!
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also ig i'll bring him a wheelchair for his frail victorian body. ]
Welcome back, Viktor... I know it's not exactly an easy adjustment to make... but I think it's perhaps a better one?
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This... can't be real... What...? Am I dreaming?
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[ Well... to a degree! Metis greets with a warm smile, there to help aid him if he so needs. Though he tends to some of the monitors before he fully looks him over. ]
How are your memories? Do you remember everything..? You'll be disorientated for a bit, I'm sure, but I hope your memory is still mostly intact.
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[He manages a weak, brief smile. His brows furrow after.]
They're... okay, I think? If they're not, then... hopefully they'll gradually come back. Thank you.
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(frozen comment) THE EXPLANATION.