[ A phantom burn sears the lungs Viktor no longer posseses, the distant memory of exertion and the gasps for air that did little to alleviate the ache. Viktor cannot forget that haunting sensation that lingers like a scar on his mind, and it follows him as he walks. It is rare for him to be aimless but he had been confronted by the reality that, even as far from Runeterra as this, he will never be able to escape it.
The pain, the hatred.
Viktor is not seeing the world around him, as if the optical function of his eyes had ceased sending images to his brain. There was nothing to see and his mind is otherwise occupied with assessing the fault in his emotional inhibitor that is allowing him to feel as wounded and small as he does in this moment.
That is how he stumbles into Daenerys, this mother of dragons, who had looked at him once like the sister he never had. Unlike their last meeting, he stands before her, initially, with his mask. He does not move to take it off yet. He wants to see. ]
[ Having spent the better part of these first few days exploring and getting her bearings, Daenerys finds herself back in the main courtyard, studying the variety of hot drinks laid out at a stall. This place is strange, but then, she's all too familiar to finding herself in foreign lands. Sometimes she wonders if she'll always be like this — traveling, searching, lost.
It's a thought Daenerys is quick to sweep aside, instead focusing her attention on trying to make sense of these cold weather customs. She's sniffing something called "hot chocolate" when she hears her name, and when she turns, she's already smiling, a warmer, more open expression reserved for close companions. He might not be her brother in one world, but she considers him one here. ]
Viktor. [ The mask he wears earns a surprised, but approving glance. ] You look very impressive. Are you warm enough in there? [ She carefully balances the cup in one hand, reaching out with her free one to touch his arm. It's the surest sign of her approval — Daenerys casually touches everyone she's close to. ]
[ Those words don't strike him as hard as the look on her face or the hand on her arm. Viktor reaches up and disengages the mask in a familiar but silent and cautious gesture. His expression, which is usually unreadable and flat, is tense edged with something colder than the snow on the ground. It is loneliness in a way that even his inhibitor at its best could not dull the bite of.
[ It's a loneliness she can understand, in some respects. Never feeling like she belonged anywhere, losing what little family she has left, feeling like a monster. She doesn't quite understand the significance of his mask, but she can tell — immediately — that it's a protective barrier. Not against physical violence, but emotional ones.
She makes a decision. ]
We'll go inside, then. [ Setting aside the cup, Daenerys takes him gently by the arm and leads him away. ] There's a place nearby — I believe it's called a "library." Only maesters had access to so many books and scrolls where I come from. A fact I believe it's high time I change, don't you agree? [ She's chatting more to distract him than anything else. Hopefully it's helping a little. ]
[ It's impossibly rare, the feeling of being understood. So much so that Viktor doesn't fully know how to respond to it, because it is not like the feeling of meeting a mind so akin to his own that he can speak of his work without need to rephrase the thrill of discovery. It is the understanding of someone who isn't seeing his work but him, and there are few things so foreign to him than the acknowledgement of the person he fights nature to deny exists. ]
Knowledge should not be a privilege denied to anyone. I am quite familiar with the guarding of it. [ Viktor frowns, his brows knitting as they walk. Idly, he does eye the cup before taking it to carry it with them. ] Like this. [ He lifts the mug. ] This was a thing I would see in the hands of those who stepped over me, figures that did not see those like me as more than cogs in a large machine that ground us down into nothing.
There are a great many things that need to change but there is only so much one voice and a single pair of hands can do.
[ Listening, Daenerys begins drawing conclusions about this man beside her, a sharp pain twisting in her chest. He wears the face of her brother and speaks in his voice, and it seems, much to her dismay, that he grew up with similar experiences, too. Being seen only insofar as an object to be bartered and used.
As they walk, Daenerys keeps her gaze forward, but her mouth is pressed into a thin line, her voice hard. ] Those in power often seize it off the backs of the desperate and defenseless. [ Briefly, she squeezes his arm, which is still tucked protectively around her elbow. ] You might be surprised how much change one person can affect. Often, we see only a little of our own accomplishments — but people depend upon both of us. We must continue fighting. There is no other choice.
[ Is she giving a speech? Maybe. But Daenerys believes in him, and she'll fight for him, too. ]
Those in power seek to oppress those who are not until it becomes so easy that they no longer see it as oppression. [ Viktor's tone is unyielding and firm. The corners of his mouth pull down, but he doesn't argue, only listens as she speaks. ]
I do not intend to stop fighting. I am the only one. [ Conviction runs up against uncertainty, the product of a fear that Viktor is yet to weed out. Attempting to put distance between himself and that nameless, persistent ache, he turns the conversation towards her. ] What is it you are fighting for?
[ She hums in agreement, knowing that their opinions on this seem to align and not needing to push the matter further. She does, however, feel inspired to speak again at the conviction in his words. ]
It always starts with just one. [ Stopping just outside the library doors, Daenerys pauses, glancing up at him. ] I'm proud of you. [ She says it so simply, but with full confidence, and after another long moment where she gazes at him with fondness, Daenerys finally moves to open the door.
Once inside, she pitches her voice quieter. She'd learned the hard way not to speak at full volume here. ] I fight to free the enslaved. There are many cities that still enforce this practice, and I intend to dismantle every last one.
That is a sentiment I heard once a long time ago. [ A very long time ago, almost another life. The statement that comes after, however, stalls him entirely, as if the machinery in his leg has powered down entirely. Viktor simply stares at her for a moment, or two, perhaps longer.
He says nothing and he's not sure if there anything to say, but the rigidity in his shoulders is gone, and he follows her as she leads them into the library. He even chuckles softly at the way she drops her voice to whisper, though his expression shifts as the gravity of her goal hangs in the air between them. ]
It always starts with just one. [ There is something empowering in those words, even hearing them in his own voice. ] I believe that you will.
Who said this to you? [ She could make a guess, given her own experiences. There were a number of people in her life who gave her sound advice — and she intends to keep cultivating a council that freely speak their minds to her.
His answering silence doesn't bother Daenerys in the slightest. If anything, she looks more fond, her expression softening into something warm and bright as she pulls him into an embrace. It's tight, and surprisingly strong, but then, she's always been a bit of a bear hugger. ]
Then we will believe in each other, [ is murmured in response, not letting up on her grip for a second. Welcome to the Targaryen family, Viktor. She's claiming you. ]
[ The word is harder to say than Viktor thought it would be, but he hasn't spoken of her since she passed. Viktor has tried not to think of her, too, that link to the life he used to have, warmer and full of kindness he has not known since that light was extinguished. But this is not the first time he's thought of her since meeting this woman, and he doubts it will be the last and it isn't so terrible a thing to anticipate, he finds.
As if Daenerys is determined to continue catching him off guard, he doesn't move at first as she hugs him, but he does collapse into it slightly and he huffs, bringing one hand up and pressing the palm against her back. ] Has anyone told you how fierce you are with your affection?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
—action;
[ A phantom burn sears the lungs Viktor no longer posseses, the distant memory of exertion and the gasps for air that did little to alleviate the ache. Viktor cannot forget that haunting sensation that lingers like a scar on his mind, and it follows him as he walks. It is rare for him to be aimless but he had been confronted by the reality that, even as far from Runeterra as this, he will never be able to escape it.
The pain, the hatred.
Viktor is not seeing the world around him, as if the optical function of his eyes had ceased sending images to his brain. There was nothing to see and his mind is otherwise occupied with assessing the fault in his emotional inhibitor that is allowing him to feel as wounded and small as he does in this moment.
That is how he stumbles into Daenerys, this mother of dragons, who had looked at him once like the sister he never had. Unlike their last meeting, he stands before her, initially, with his mask. He does not move to take it off yet. He wants to see. ]
Daenerys.
no subject
It's a thought Daenerys is quick to sweep aside, instead focusing her attention on trying to make sense of these cold weather customs. She's sniffing something called "hot chocolate" when she hears her name, and when she turns, she's already smiling, a warmer, more open expression reserved for close companions. He might not be her brother in one world, but she considers him one here. ]
Viktor. [ The mask he wears earns a surprised, but approving glance. ] You look very impressive. Are you warm enough in there? [ She carefully balances the cup in one hand, reaching out with her free one to touch his arm. It's the surest sign of her approval — Daenerys casually touches everyone she's close to. ]
no subject
Still, he attempts what is a joke. ]
Metal does not insulate well, no.
no subject
She makes a decision. ]
We'll go inside, then. [ Setting aside the cup, Daenerys takes him gently by the arm and leads him away. ] There's a place nearby — I believe it's called a "library." Only maesters had access to so many books and scrolls where I come from. A fact I believe it's high time I change, don't you agree? [ She's chatting more to distract him than anything else. Hopefully it's helping a little. ]
no subject
Knowledge should not be a privilege denied to anyone. I am quite familiar with the guarding of it. [ Viktor frowns, his brows knitting as they walk. Idly, he does eye the cup before taking it to carry it with them. ] Like this. [ He lifts the mug. ] This was a thing I would see in the hands of those who stepped over me, figures that did not see those like me as more than cogs in a large machine that ground us down into nothing.
There are a great many things that need to change but there is only so much one voice and a single pair of hands can do.
no subject
As they walk, Daenerys keeps her gaze forward, but her mouth is pressed into a thin line, her voice hard. ] Those in power often seize it off the backs of the desperate and defenseless. [ Briefly, she squeezes his arm, which is still tucked protectively around her elbow. ] You might be surprised how much change one person can affect. Often, we see only a little of our own accomplishments — but people depend upon both of us. We must continue fighting. There is no other choice.
[ Is she giving a speech? Maybe. But Daenerys believes in him, and she'll fight for him, too. ]
no subject
I do not intend to stop fighting. I am the only one. [ Conviction runs up against uncertainty, the product of a fear that Viktor is yet to weed out. Attempting to put distance between himself and that nameless, persistent ache, he turns the conversation towards her. ] What is it you are fighting for?
no subject
It always starts with just one. [ Stopping just outside the library doors, Daenerys pauses, glancing up at him. ] I'm proud of you. [ She says it so simply, but with full confidence, and after another long moment where she gazes at him with fondness, Daenerys finally moves to open the door.
Once inside, she pitches her voice quieter. She'd learned the hard way not to speak at full volume here. ] I fight to free the enslaved. There are many cities that still enforce this practice, and I intend to dismantle every last one.
no subject
He says nothing and he's not sure if there anything to say, but the rigidity in his shoulders is gone, and he follows her as she leads them into the library. He even chuckles softly at the way she drops her voice to whisper, though his expression shifts as the gravity of her goal hangs in the air between them. ]
It always starts with just one. [ There is something empowering in those words, even hearing them in his own voice. ] I believe that you will.
no subject
His answering silence doesn't bother Daenerys in the slightest. If anything, she looks more fond, her expression softening into something warm and bright as she pulls him into an embrace. It's tight, and surprisingly strong, but then, she's always been a bit of a bear hugger. ]
Then we will believe in each other, [ is murmured in response, not letting up on her grip for a second. Welcome to the Targaryen family, Viktor. She's claiming you. ]
no subject
[ The word is harder to say than Viktor thought it would be, but he hasn't spoken of her since she passed. Viktor has tried not to think of her, too, that link to the life he used to have, warmer and full of kindness he has not known since that light was extinguished. But this is not the first time he's thought of her since meeting this woman, and he doubts it will be the last and it isn't so terrible a thing to anticipate, he finds.
As if Daenerys is determined to continue catching him off guard, he doesn't move at first as she hugs him, but he does collapse into it slightly and he huffs, bringing one hand up and pressing the palm against her back. ] Has anyone told you how fierce you are with your affection?
[ It's spoken with a teasing edge. ]
That is an acceptable arrangement.