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Mar. 5th, 2024 10:36 am
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[personal profile] exarchon


Starters, messages, memes, texts
Canon, crosscanon, AU, assumed CR
Open to all!

Date: 2024-03-12 09:53 pm (UTC)
clutterbitch: (Default)
From: [personal profile] clutterbitch
"An international incident does sound fun," Viktor muses. For another, it might've been tough to tell whether he was being sarcastic or serious. G'raha, though, likely recognizes this glint of honesty in his demeanor: with Viktor, it's always a bit of both. He drops his voice to a stage whisper, knocking his head toward the city proper, ready to play at breaking the rules. "Then, let's be off, G'raha."

The promise of excitement has its usual invigorating effect. Viktor moves like a spring loosely coiled, his paces half-bounding away from the crowded ferry. One, two, three steps away, he pauses and turns back to make sure his new charge is following. Already, that Warrior of Light persona is giving way, and just Viktor shines through. A wiry man, tall as a palm and dressed, as always, in the vibrant red-and-white colors of a healer, even with that ax strapped to his back.

"The way the sea and the karst meet here..." he inhales, the salt, the sea, the earthy smell of damp rock all rushing to greet him. "It makes Vesper Bay feel always like the start of an adventure."

A scholar might, at this point, have launched into a spiel about the history or architecture of Vesper Bay and Horizon. A better tour guide would've pointed out one of the market stalls or talked up the menu at the Pissed Pieste. Viktor is neither of those things. He fixes his attention on G'raha, and tries not to search his fine features for things he knows aren't there.

"What are you most looking forward to seeing?"

Date: 2024-03-12 11:37 pm (UTC)
clutterbitch: (Default)
From: [personal profile] clutterbitch
"Would you believe on the back of a chocobo?" Viktor asks, a little too honest. "Where birds aren't allowed, though? Hm. I've got favorite places everywhere, but probably...the Sapphire Avenue Exchange, in Ul'dah. It's a market street. Crowded, noisy. Full of adventurers, but still smells nice." He grins at his own joke. "Like spices. I'll take you there."

He knows he should weave the thread of this conversation into something more useful — talk that might tease out Allag's true agenda, its renewed interest in Eorzea now — but, he doesn't expect it to hurt as much as it does, talking of new adventures with someone.

It feels a bit like pressing a still-purpling bruise, but his smile remains — he's well practiced at that. What he can't help is his mind, drifting again to a crystal statue in silent vigil a world away, to the promise that had died on lips turned to blue stone. Silence slips in, lingering a few beats too long before Viktor catches himself staring again at G'raha's mouth. "Sorry. It's just that--" How stupid. Yes, that'd go over well. There's this fellow I'm still getting over, you see. Centuries old. From another dimension. Fancied him quite a bit, even after he'd turned to stone. And you, strange Prince of a Foreign Nation, sort of remind me of him. This stone man whose real name and face I didn't even know. Viktor slides his palm across his face as a new realization strikes him. "--Matron's teats! I haven't even told you my name. Viktor. It's--you can call me Viktor. Or, Warrior of Light, if you really, really want to stick to a title. But, that's a real mouthful."

Date: 2024-03-13 02:18 am (UTC)
clutterbitch: (Default)
From: [personal profile] clutterbitch
"I'm glad," Viktor says with no small amount of relief. Friendship is so much better than formality, than awe. Nevermind that on the Allagan prince's tongue, his name sounds like a song he'd almost forgot. He resists the tiny voice in the back of his head urging him to ask G'raha to say his name again. "Better at standing on large monsters than ceremony."

He tips his chin up to take in the scenery he knows so well. To get himself back on track. Viktor strolls toward the square -- the best place to watch merchants and adventurers come and go. Here, sun glints prettily off white and green stone. "I grew up in this area. Back then, it was just the ferry and a whole lot of sand. Couldn't wait to escape."

Beneath the outrageous statue of Lolorito, Viktor stops. Good-natured, he asks, "What about you? Er, what's your home like?" He imagines, briefly, the princeling ruling from some idyllic floating fortress, Azys Lla with better weather and (maybe) fewer shackled dragons. "Were you itching to get away, too?"
Edited Date: 2024-03-13 02:34 am (UTC)

Date: 2024-03-13 04:18 pm (UTC)
clutterbitch: (Default)
From: [personal profile] clutterbitch
"Halfway there, now, mm?"

Whether felling primals or ambiguously advocating for abdication on a whim, Viktor has a knack for making the impossible sound far too easy. He'd been that way on the First, too. So certain, in the face of so much tragedy, that there was always a path forward to be found. This time, at least, he seems to realize that what he's suggesting is rather impossible.

"We'll get you at least most of an adventure here in Eorzea," he says lightly, a little teasing.

He couldn't keep his promise to the Exarch, but perhaps it is a gift he can offer to someone else. Someone who, it seems, is similarly bound by obligation. Viktor tells himself that's it, and not that the prince reminds him so much of the man he'd lost -- the one he hadn't even really had to begin with.

He was supposed to exercise caution. To keep his guard up and not stumble so quickly into that puppy dog friendship he always tends toward. "And you'll show me an adventure in Allag, down the road?"

Date: 2024-03-13 08:04 pm (UTC)
clutterbitch: (Default)
From: [personal profile] clutterbitch
Viktor reads the regret in G'raha's eyes and tries not to let it reflect in his own expression. You'd think by now he would remember that heads of state and their ilk all carry the sort of burdens antithetical to the lives of adventurers. It makes him itch, thinking of all the allies and friends, duty bound to lonely offices and great half-empty halls. How often do his doggish invitations to freedom cause pain and worry, instead of joy? His gaze dips, taking in the marble tiles beneath their feet.

A chance to actually rest. Hadn't the Exarch always urged the same? It's just coincidence, he tells himself, as that itching feeling grows into a more pressing urge to move his body.

He stretches his arms up and over the back of his head. When the knot in his back doesn't immediately work itself out, he slings his greataxe across his shoulders, then drapes his arms over the hilt. It makes him look like he's been yoked, a beast who would never stop moving if not pulled to heel -- but at least his shoulder finally pops.

"Rest?" he asks, still grinning, one eye squinting shut. "Never heard of it." There is never enough time, but maybe he can scrounge a few seconds to follow a friend's advice. "You'll have to show me."

Date: 2024-03-13 09:59 pm (UTC)
clutterbitch: (Default)
From: [personal profile] clutterbitch
Viktor's attention lingers a few seconds longer on G'raha and that smile, but he still manages to deliver a crisp nod, as though Elmort had always had his undivided attention. As though he'd kept track of the itinerary at all. But that all sounds right. So, he drops his ax to his side, a soldier standing at attention, and adds an authoritative, "Aye."

(In Viktor's experience, gray-haired politicians rarely like to hear the words, "I don't know, sir, I just work here." No matter how adept you are at your job.)

Usually, at this point, Alphinaud would be leaping in to bridge the gap left by the Warrior of Light's predictable bout of sudden onset silence. With the twins engaged elsewhere, though, Viktor is left to try and conjure up something the boy would say on his own.

"Glad to meet you, Elmort." The name sits somewhat sour on his tongue; not wholly unpleasant, just sharp. He stammers through the next bit, dreadfully aware that he'd just been flirting when he should've been preparing for a serious, potentially dangerous diplomatic excursion. "And for the opportunity to...show your prince our home. If there's anything I can do to make our journey and easier one, say the word."

He glances skyward, makes a few quick calculations and adds, "Should make the city before sunset. It's not a long trek. Safe enough, so long as you keep to the roads. I'll stay at the head." Viktor looks to G'raha. There's a smile in his eyes, despite his attempt at looking serious. "You'll join me there, highness?"

Date: 2024-03-14 04:59 am (UTC)
clutterbitch: (Default)
From: [personal profile] clutterbitch
"As you say, sir." There is little to do now but extend an arm, giving both prince and advisor the right of way. Viktor slings his ax back across his back and follows close behind G'raha and his retainer.

With everyone's attention momentarily elsewhere, he does his due diligence, measuring the size of the Allagan delegation, judging whether they have the space on their persons or in their wagons to store weapons -- not that such a guess matters all that much when you're observing a civilization that once ruled the skies, made clones, and defied death.

He decides, thanks mostly to the complete silence of his Echo, that this whole business is politician-level dangerous. Not my circus, not my monkeys trouble. The sort of thing that the Syndicate breaks their fast on.

So, it's just as the prince said: his safety is the only thing Viktor need concern himself with. He prays he can keep his own head on straight long enough to see this mission through. But, by the Twelve is the prince distracting.

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