[The days disappear for Viktor. More time lost. What was once his most precious and limited asset, now time feels like an enemy to him. Time drags moment to moment, emotional emptiness clashes against spikes of intensity. There is no balance, only swings, nothing to overwhelming and back again in instants. Playing out in his mind in uneven gusts of wind, in storms that cannot be predicted. No pendulum, no carried momentum between moments, just chaotic highs and lows.
The first thing to bring him peace in those days after drugging Jayce is... Jayce. It's always Jayce, of course it is. Viktor was keeping his distance, whether that was out of respect or disrespect didn't matter. It was what he was doing. Then, trying to move his truck to a new spot to recharge the battery, it came on the radio.
Jayce's voice, youthful and enthused. Naive. Ecstatic. Viktor's in turn, arguing through hypothesis, interpreting data sets. They sound like different people, but they were. The them of the past playing out in sound waves and crackling interference would not recognize the them of the present moment. They are far too metamorphosized, changed, and twisted. They would be seen as devils to the men on the radio.
Yet, it is a strange comfort to remember being those men. Once, they were hungry merely with ambition. Viktor can disassociate himself back to that time. Can wear those clothes no longer quite his size. He can pretend and he can dream of their dream again.
His truck is quiet, but the radio is playing loud. Chattering. Yapping away. It doesn't matter what is being said, it's like rain pattering on windows, comforting noise. Viktor has the back of the greenhouse trunk wide open so the plants can get fresher air from the night beyond the windows. Viktor is laid out flat in the bed of the dirt, surrounded on all sides by the bits of nature he could sustain. It smells nice, like wet soil and cold greenery. A small oasis. He cannot sleep, but it is as mellow as he has been since his re-arrival. Listening to Jayce talk to him in another time, another place, another version of themselves... it's escapism. He just wants to escape.
He will cant his head when he notices an approach, but even for the Jayce of now, he only slumps back into place. Laid out on his back, looking upward at the night sky through a misty pane of glass. He speaks, quiet and trying to take on the character of his voice before he became so distorted. Viktor nearly succeeds,]
Jayce? Do you need a place to lay down? [there is room besides him, if Jayce isn't going to fuss about the chill or dampness of the soil. Viktor needs it, his body too warm as it overclocks itself trying to heal from so much sacrificed blood,]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2025-08-05 04:51 pm (UTC)The first thing to bring him peace in those days after drugging Jayce is... Jayce. It's always Jayce, of course it is. Viktor was keeping his distance, whether that was out of respect or disrespect didn't matter. It was what he was doing. Then, trying to move his truck to a new spot to recharge the battery, it came on the radio.
Jayce's voice, youthful and enthused. Naive. Ecstatic. Viktor's in turn, arguing through hypothesis, interpreting data sets. They sound like different people, but they were. The them of the past playing out in sound waves and crackling interference would not recognize the them of the present moment. They are far too metamorphosized, changed, and twisted. They would be seen as devils to the men on the radio.
Yet, it is a strange comfort to remember being those men. Once, they were hungry merely with ambition. Viktor can disassociate himself back to that time. Can wear those clothes no longer quite his size. He can pretend and he can dream of their dream again.
His truck is quiet, but the radio is playing loud. Chattering. Yapping away. It doesn't matter what is being said, it's like rain pattering on windows, comforting noise. Viktor has the back of the greenhouse trunk wide open so the plants can get fresher air from the night beyond the windows. Viktor is laid out flat in the bed of the dirt, surrounded on all sides by the bits of nature he could sustain. It smells nice, like wet soil and cold greenery. A small oasis. He cannot sleep, but it is as mellow as he has been since his re-arrival. Listening to Jayce talk to him in another time, another place, another version of themselves... it's escapism. He just wants to escape.
He will cant his head when he notices an approach, but even for the Jayce of now, he only slumps back into place. Laid out on his back, looking upward at the night sky through a misty pane of glass. He speaks, quiet and trying to take on the character of his voice before he became so distorted. Viktor nearly succeeds,]
Jayce? Do you need a place to lay down? [there is room besides him, if Jayce isn't going to fuss about the chill or dampness of the soil. Viktor needs it, his body too warm as it overclocks itself trying to heal from so much sacrificed blood,]