deernet | video; un: viktor

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video; un: viktor

[the video starts near one of the blood blisters, though by 'near' it's clear the video taker has no particular interest in getting close enough to be in a potential splash zone. the video itself is more focused on the pair of blood hounds gathered around it.

when a voice speaks it's with a heavy czech accent and only after scratching that sounds like he's writing something.] I suppose it is customary to make greetings here, as a new arrival, so hello. I am Viktor.

[he clears his throat like he's glad that's over with, onto what he apparently really wants to talk about. the video pans down to a pale finger tapping his notebook, one page blurred and off the the side with what looks like confused formulas trying to figure out how the hell an omni works in his frame of knowledge, the others with notes on the bloodhounds.

one noticeable feature to people without paleblood is he keeps drawing/referencing mushrooms on the beasts, which clearly aren't there.] I've been curious about this fungal growth, especially as I've noticed it on more than just the eh... stag dogs.

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[ … can’t be. what are the chances that there’s another piltover with bullshit elites who spend an exorbitant amount of time finding any and all reason to flaunt their wealth and power?

so sorry, vi here will be ignoring all else in these texts. she won’t even give him credit for his lack of enthusiasm. ]

you’re from piltover
topside
city of fucking progress

[ okay. that last one has been slightly modified. ]

[well, that response is curious, mostly that instant of relief that someone even knows what piltover is. assuming it is the same piltover of the same time, but it is a start.

and that attitude, that is familiar. if this was video the quirk of his lips would be impossible to hide.]

No, I was born in the undercity, though I have lived in Piltover since being accepted into the academy. That disdain is refreshing, I must say.

[ one of us; heh, not anymore. seems someone got himself a golden ticket. interesting then, that despite his seemingly upgrade in position, he encourages her lippiness. where does his allegiance lie? does it even matter anymore? ]

you must be someone real special
not often they let one of us crawl out of the gutter

I met the dean by chance, otherwise I had planned to simply get a uniform and attend until they realized and my test scores spoke for themselves.

[that would be a funny sort of story, if the rotten underside of it was he knew they'd likely never let him even take the admission test so it was his next best option.

frankly he's a little surprised she'd call him 'one of us,' though he can't pretend he isn't glad for it. ah, isn't complicated feelings between two clashing forces just so fun?]

At least you must be better prepared than most for this place. I've known pilties who faint at the sight of a little blood.

[ vi doesn’t resent him for, arguably, creating a better life for himself. in fact, reading over the text pulls the quietest heh of – amusement? reluctant approval? out of her. forcing his way into the school and making them pay attention to him… that deserves credit, even if it never left the planning stages.

she is, however, deeply rooted in suspicion for anything or anyone saturated in the stench of piltover. stupid of her, maybe, considering there are no levels in between or bridges to cross. they’re all on the same playing field here. ]

but not you
how prepared do you think you are
there’s no chance meeting that’ll shelter you from this place

[ the next string of texts comes a good minute later. the tone behind them considerably less hostile, though still very unpolished. ]

there are good people though
you’re not alone
just
you gotta know how to watch your back. do you remember how to do that

[he needs a moment with that first bit, because it is something he's had to think about quite a lot for reasons more reasons than piltover potentially dulling his edge. he was dying, may still be dying, certainly can't run or fight any better. if he's lucky his body's decay has stopped, if not- well, then he is very, very unlucky.

he isn't sure how to answer her, in truth, and the pause as he gathers his thoughts probably gives that away. it's long enough he's surprised when more text finds its way through, making him blink. it's... encouraging. kind, really. it makes his lips quirk because for all piltover loved to paint the undercity a dangerous, dark place he's seen greater generosity there than he ever did in the city of progress. this stranger might be one of those 'good people.']

[it does take a little while before he formulates a proper reply.]

I do remember, but I am afraid it will make little difference. I have never been built for fighting, you could say.

This power in our blood seems promising, but the reports of its use and the costs are... conflicting.

[ should’ve guessed that. she saw those doodles and more specifically, the finger tapping against the page. smooth, unblemished skin. intact. unsplit. even the nailbed looked well kept. all in stark contrast to the pair of mitts vi is sporting. she tips her head, regarding the soiled wrappings and the ruddy coloring of bruised knuckles. yeah, he’s definitely not a melee fighter, at least not hand to hand.

she wonders then, what he means by built for it. it could mean anything from an inability to stomach the violence to a generalized weak constitution. what’s she dealing with here? nothing. because he’s not her responsibility and she’s sure as hell not looking to take in any strays. ]

still working out the details on that myself
i haven’t been here all that long

[ in other words? she’s no help in this area. good luck prodding the other sleepers for the rundown on what to expect and how to hone the blood power. ]

[ sigh. that’s not where it ends. vi hesitates and reconsiders. he’s a stranger. a nobody. just another poor sucker in the long line of suckers stuck in some kind of second chance.

… but vi has so little left from before. she has powder. powder is enough… when her sister isn’t volatile and abandoning vi before vi can, supposedly, abandon her. maybe it’s curiosity. maybe it’s undisclosed want. topsider or not, he shares some piece of life before and vi just wants… just needs…

she types it out without another thought and hits send. ]

we should meet

[ and no, she won’t be explaining herself beyond that. ]

[ah, that's a shame she's new as well, he would have liked a somewhat reliable seeming source to question. ah well, this omni alone was an endless source of information.

and it may be useful to have someone with new eyes as well, hear what she has to say, perhaps compare notes later to their mutual benefit. certainly useful to have the opinion of someone not actively hallucinating. sigh.

but he's surprised again, this time by her offer- or it seemed an offer. if it's risky to meet a stranger in a hostile place well... he's always been a risk taker. curiosity wins out.]

Do you have a place in mind? I have only really seen Lumenwood, I believe is the name. I can meet you at that lamp location if you would like

[ vi hasn’t been here long, but she’s been diligent in getting a lay of the land. in short? yeah, she knows lumenwood enough to have snagged a tether for her lamp friends. figures her new acquaintance would be in the more blood-soaked district. she has to wonder if the blood blisters will be more problematic there. either way, here’s hoping she doesn’t get a front-row viewing of how he’s not built for fighting. ]

works for me
twenty minutes

[ should be sufficient time to tie up any current engagements. and more specifically, enough time for her to settle into the location first, so she spots him before he spots her. ]

( ooc: would you like to switch to action in this network post or should i set up a log? C: )

[ooc; here is fine! though if you want to switch to a log we absolutely can!]

[viktor sends a 'very well' in the affirmative, turning his attention back to the hounds prowling nearby. now that he's aware there's something addling his senses it is at least easier to pick out certain unusual shifts, trailing thoughts, his sense of reality perhaps rattled more than simply waking up to learn he's apparently a squid.

he makes his way past the lumenflowers and blisters to the lamp- in truth he hasn't been very many places since waking up. his waking was a messy one, one of those lovely ones with a placenta and plenty of confusion, a slow regaining of his senses. a little irritating he wakes up to hallucinations but so far things have been peaceful enough. he's lucky and he knows it.

he'll be sitting by the lamp, only rising when people come through. it'd help if he knew what vi looked like but he thinks he can hazard a guess if she is from the undercity. so when she does get close he'll pull himself up with his crutch, eying her curiously, a little cautiously. without his knee and back brace his posture is very difficult to keep even remotely straight, very easily giving away how literal he was about 'not being built for fighting.'

hopefully this isn't all just to mug him. ah well.]

( ooc: staying here is fine! )

[ with a solid assist from her lamp friends, vi’s there in four. it’s one of the least favorable locations for a stake out. with a mostly bare plane surrounding it, the lumenarium offers little cover. the upside, she supposes, is that it’s busy. this being the main hub for healing keeps the halls bustling; blood ministers and apprentices wandering in and out, seemingly always needed in some capacity elsewhere. and the lamp itself, flickering alight any time some new soul passes through, some yelling for help and others traveling further into the district for unrelated errands.

vi makes due with popping up her hood and blending in around the corner of an alcove, just inside the lumenarium, not too far from the lamp itself. it doesn’t take too long for her to figure it out.

when she first notices him, she thinks he’s a soon to be patient. isn’t that what this place is for? healing? fixing the broken pieces? the crutch and disjointed set of his body have her disregarding him quickly. except the minutes drag on and he stays sitting there, only beginning to rise when the lamp flickers with someone arriving.

oh. that must be…

vi steps further into the alcove and frowns at the floor, debating. she isn’t so generous to think he’s not a liability. she likes to run with people who can keep up. she sighs. it wouldn’t be the first time she’s been surprised though; afterall, cupcake passed the first test in a skirt. maybe there’s more to him too. does that mean vi minces her words when she wanders close? ]

Guess you weren’t kidding. [ hood still up and hands stuck deep in her jacket, her body language reads closed off. still, she does do him the decency of looking him in the face, rather than eyeing up his crutch. ]

[despite not knowing her voice the words are very much like the stranger's, something he'd expect from their brief interaction. viktor snorts, unable to see a point in taking any offense to it.]

No, I am afraid not. The undercity's unique chemical cocktail at work, as you can see, on multiple levels. [dry as dust, and though there's humor there it's a touch too sharp. funnily his health hasn't even been morbidly amusing to him as of late.]

Why did you call me here? I can't tell if you are too good intentioned, too curious or I am about to be mugged.

[ the whole reborn shitshown is best forgotten. it isn’t, of course, and so, vi is stuck with a memory of having to piece herself back together. legs, arms, face, everything. she filled in the blanks as she believed they were meant to be filled. wouldn’t that mean then, in theory, that in being able to build oneself from the ground up, one could alter oneself for the better? guess not, if he’s still carrying around the parting gift of the undercity. and how cruel is that – to be given a reroll on life, only to be stuck with the same shitty cards.

she stays silent through the beat and makes no change in expression as he lists off possible motives. good intentioned? no. too curious? fairly accurate. about to be mugged? heh. not one to play the straight-forward game, vi hedges. ]

Didn’t consider mugging you. [ one side of her mouth up kicks and she pulls her hands free from her pockets. ] But if you’ve got something good…

[viktor probably shouldn't laugh. even if he spent half his life in piltover the other half isn't one he forgot, and he knows the worst possible thing you could do in a mugging or attack of any kind is make said attacker feel belittled, laughed at. not unless you could back it up, and he simply can't.

but of course he does laugh, quiet but unmistakable, more a snort than anything.] Depends. My crutch might be worth something, but I would be desperate enough to keep it that it may not actually be worth the effort. [desperation was the most dangerous thing a person could be, in his experience at least.] The rest? Eh. I hid the more useful things before coming here.

[then again he's heard blood is valuable. wouldn't that be a new and fascinating thing to be mugged for?]

[ true. usually vi’s temperament is more unforgiving. laughing at her is a sure way to have her debating between suckerpunches and knees to sensitive places, but there’s something oddly disarming about this guy. not that she likes acknowledging that. nonetheless, he hasn’t risen to any of vi’s baits and more often than not, has poked fun at himself rather than becoming defensive. curious, really. it’s the kind of easy attitude that vi isn’t at all accustomed to.

here, she’ll keep that small, slanted smile and give a one shake of her head. ]

Still got your street smarts. [ is that a slight, very slight sound of approval? arguably, overlooking stranger danger is a cardinal sin but other than that, at least he’s wise enough not to bring valuables to a possibly shady first meeting. a beat and then she backtracks, figuring that maybe he deserves to have his question answered properly. ]

It was the second one. [ too curious. she shrugs with forced flippancy. ] There aren’t a lot of options when it comes to connections to… before.

[ and look at her, desperate enough to come running to a topsider. she really ought to be ashamed of herself. ]

You’re pretty much it. The lone representative of Piltover.

There are some things you never forget, I suppose. [he nods, not easing exactly but he at least thinks she's probably not going to violently mug him. probably. if she is she's certainly taking her time with it, which is new. he's never had a mugger who wanted a nice chat beforehand.

the second one- yes, that's largely why he came despite said stranger danger and knowing better. connections to before, more so connections to zaun, he hasn't had that in anyone other than sky for years, the odd trip down.

she does get another snort though before he can help it.] The lone representative of Piltover. That... is quite ironic, given how hard they worked to make sure I did not represent Piltover. [of course he helped, he had no interest being on the blimps. but that's another matter and he shakes his head.]

That is why I came as well. I suppose it comforting, to know there is at least one person familiar with the place that made you who you are. In truth for me it is less about our world and more about the undercity.

[ how fucking unsurprising. the elites trying their hardest to keep their precious city as clean and as untainted by undercity filth as possible. vi is, unfortunately, missing some details here, but she clears that jump to conclusion and runs with it. it sours her mood, unearthing the feeling of inadequacy and less than she’s grown up with since a child.

smile gone, vi listens with distracted attention, again withholding the full extent of credit he is due. ]

You talk like you still care about that place. [ that place. her home? his once home? before he tried to fit in with them. it doesn’t even matter anymore, but vi’s never been one to let go of a grudge. she’s not always the best at holding it against the right people either. ]

When was the last time you were even there?

[he eyes her for a few moments, curious and cautious again, though this time of minefields of a more emotional variety. he knows the undercity changed since he left, he knows things have only gotten worse. all that he knows just from a few visits, a few hushed conversations with sky, so he cannot imagine what it was to live through those changes or even the true catalysts of them.

assuming she did live through them, assuming they're of the same time, assuming a lot of things really.

the last time he was there was after he found out he was dying, which is not an answer he's going to give. he doesn't think the answer matters anyway]

Would it matter? I would still be a tourist no matter how often I visited, always with a ticket out. [he shrugs a shoulder, a beat before he offers,] I care because it was my home, and for all Piltover's talk of progress and goodwill the undercity is where I saw true generosity and innovation.

I left because in order to get the funding to make a difference with my work and studies, to get the resources I needed, I would have had to turn to making chems or weapons. That is the unfortunate reality of it.

[he can't help but feel a pang of defensiveness despite it all, maybe defeat. hextech was supposed to help, they spent so many years on the gates alone and for what? to be shot down and reigned in when they finally had freedom to make something for the people? should he have been so content to line the pockets of the elite on the vague promise of 'soon' when it came to projects that mattered?

and now what, his legacy will be a footnote in piltover's history, dying on the vain hope of all he wished to do- air and water purification, biomedical engineering, tools to offer even the weak and sick in zaun a chance at working without pain and endless fatigue.

he forces himself to try and ease, the tension around his shoulders dangerous, too easily misread. it just leaves him looking tired when he lets it go.]

[ he makes a solid point. the undercity’s changed a lot in the years vi was pilfered away to stillwater. it’s always had it’s seedy undercurrent, but it’s expanded and flooded the streets in a way vi wasn’t prepared for. silco and his fucking empire of shit; vi’s sorry she never made good on her vow to tear it down on top of his narrowframed, jacked-eyed, dumbfuck of a face. alas, she found herself squided.

as quickly as the hostility came, it eases. disappears? no. it clings at the edges of her expression and keeps her lips flat-lined. as for her tone? it’s reluctantly agreeable. ]

You’re right.

[ on a lot of points, namely his need to settle into piltover for resources. people do what they need to in order to get by in the lanes, maintaining a steady set of morals is a luxury not all of them are allowed. so chems or weapons? not a far off prediction if his chance meeting never happened. vi’s yielding only goes so far though. she’ll cut down that agreement on the next beat, minimizing it to a far shallower: ]

It doesn’t matter anymore.

[ who they were before. where they’ve come from or what they’ve wanted. they’re in trench now. ]

[viktor shakes his head, any lingering defensiveness falling to that increasingly familiar defeated feeling. it doesn't matter, not now, then and certainly not here. there should be some comfort to that. maybe in time there will be, but now it all mostly feels like failure far too long in the making.

he sighs, readjusts his grip on his crutch before moving. not closer or farther, more just for the sake of moving, eyes scanning the rather unsettling area. when he glances back to vi he notices a fungus not unlike those from the fissures growing out her neck, a dull bioluminescence that makes her look pale. a blink and it's still there, dismissed for the hallucination it is.]

The last time I went was shortly before ending up here. [he answers belatedly] It was the first time I've been down since the attack during Progress Day. Tensions on the bridge were... troubling. The state of the undercity was not much better.

[ she watches him move about; curious, somewhat. she doesn’t avert her gaze when he glances her way, though that steady watching takes on a questioning look, one accompanied by a raising of her brow, when his attention snags on her… neck? thankfully, he picks up the slack and fills the silence vi so gracefully forced them into, before she can break it with a what.

though, perhaps thankfully isn’t the right assessment.

progress day attack. vi doesn’t want to think about that. she has enough intel and theory in her head, aided largely by caitlyn, that vi knows the culprit. powder is here too; briefly, vi wonders what mr. ex-undercity would do if he knew about powder and her involvement… and more specifically, knew she’s here. she flicks her gaze to his crutch. likely nothing. the rule of law is different here. there are no enforcers at beck and call.

she scoffs, pushing out her right hip on a favoring of weight to that leg, arms crossing over her chest. ]

We can thank Silco for that. [ her? bitter? fuck yeah. ] He better hope he never finds his way here. He has a lot to answer to and I don’t feel much like listening, if you know what I mean.

[ the dirty, worn wrappings along her arms and hands are clue enough: she is very much into settling disputes her own way. ]

[that has viktor's brow rising. he can't say he's terribly surprised, he's not so out of touch not to know silco is a name one avoided. he is out of touch enough to be shocked he'd make such a bold move.

he turns fully to vi, brow furrowing again. for a moment he thinks of keeping mum on the theft at the lab, but what's the point? they're here now. there's no information to leak.]

The attack was a cover to steal a very important prototype from Hextech. They keep asking us if it will be made into weapons. [he has to snort, grip tightening on his crutch. hilarious how they could dismiss the idea of trenchers unlocking it when a 'trencher' helped make it. better this way, but still.]

video; un: viktor

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1/2 i feel like i should apologize for spamming w 2 tags so often but fhgff

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text; no please, the more vi icons i get to see the better imo. look at that face!

you make a fine point. she is rather gorg

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