[ though he's been bidden to be quick, Viktor does not rush. he climbs out of his boots, unwinds his lengthy scarf and drapes it over the vanity after stealing a glance at his reflection -- wind blown hair, face flush from the cold, a smudge of dirt he wipes off his cheek.
his quarters are less impressive than the ones granted to Emet-Selch. too reluctant, for myriad reasons, to put a name to what they are - partners? consorts? lovers? it is at once deeper than all of those things and still too indefinite to name precisely. the lordling, eager to stake a claim, had assumed viktor the steward, the merchant's valet, and granted the adjoining servant's quarters. which are fine with viktor. if Emet-Selch wants to share a bed, after, well. he will decide whether or not to cross that bridge when he arrives at it.
right now, his heart is thundering, so loud as to be frankly unnecessary. this is not the first man he's seen naked. not the first person he's bathed with. there is no reason for his skin to prickle as he gathers up his few soaps, his robe and pajamas. after another second wasted thinking, he also scoops up the bottle of wine he'd received as thanks for his part in delivering the merchant's dyes -- green and purple and red dyes he'd just happened to have in his pack.
only once his arms are full does he finally return to the door separating them. a steeling breath, and then he passes through. slow, as though he needs to give Emet-Selch more time to change his mind and send him away.
his quarters are warm for the steam already filling the room, a welcome relief. and there he is, unmissable, on the other side from the door. submerged in cloudy, fragrant water, steam wafting around him. his neck is beautiful, bare shoulders moreso. the sight catches viktor's breath and holds it high in his throat. ]
Oh. You are you. [ he allows himself to sound surprised, but hides his relief as best he can. he could admit to himself that the sight of Hades back in that old form had felt...strange. he had prepared himself to be revolted, angry, even frightened. that he had felt none of those things upon looking at him had been the only certain thing he'd allowed himself to feel.
he sorts through his possessions, trying to force his lungs to work. leaves his robes and pajamas on the room's table, rather than Emet-Selch's bed - not ready to think himself welcome there, quite yet. then, with nowhere else to waste time, he finally approaches the impressively large stone tub, sets his soaps and the unopened bottle of wine on the nearby shelf, within reach and kneels, deliberately slow.
viktor undoes two of the toggles holding his robes closed, then lets his fingers drop to toy with the surface of the water. he steals the quickest glance down, but sees nothing for the fog of salts. ]
I've a few c-clasps that need undoing. [ he angles himself, showing off buckles he is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. softly, over the heavy thud of his heartbeat rattling in his ears, he asks, ] Would you?
no subject
his quarters are less impressive than the ones granted to Emet-Selch. too reluctant, for myriad reasons, to put a name to what they are - partners? consorts? lovers? it is at once deeper than all of those things and still too indefinite to name precisely. the lordling, eager to stake a claim, had assumed viktor the steward, the merchant's valet, and granted the adjoining servant's quarters. which are fine with viktor. if Emet-Selch wants to share a bed, after, well. he will decide whether or not to cross that bridge when he arrives at it.
right now, his heart is thundering, so loud as to be frankly unnecessary. this is not the first man he's seen naked. not the first person he's bathed with. there is no reason for his skin to prickle as he gathers up his few soaps, his robe and pajamas. after another second wasted thinking, he also scoops up the bottle of wine he'd received as thanks for his part in delivering the merchant's dyes -- green and purple and red dyes he'd just happened to have in his pack.
only once his arms are full does he finally return to the door separating them. a steeling breath, and then he passes through. slow, as though he needs to give Emet-Selch more time to change his mind and send him away.
his quarters are warm for the steam already filling the room, a welcome relief. and there he is, unmissable, on the other side from the door. submerged in cloudy, fragrant water, steam wafting around him. his neck is beautiful, bare shoulders moreso. the sight catches viktor's breath and holds it high in his throat. ]
Oh. You are you. [ he allows himself to sound surprised, but hides his relief as best he can. he could admit to himself that the sight of Hades back in that old form had felt...strange. he had prepared himself to be revolted, angry, even frightened. that he had felt none of those things upon looking at him had been the only certain thing he'd allowed himself to feel.
he sorts through his possessions, trying to force his lungs to work. leaves his robes and pajamas on the room's table, rather than Emet-Selch's bed - not ready to think himself welcome there, quite yet. then, with nowhere else to waste time, he finally approaches the impressively large stone tub, sets his soaps and the unopened bottle of wine on the nearby shelf, within reach and kneels, deliberately slow.
viktor undoes two of the toggles holding his robes closed, then lets his fingers drop to toy with the surface of the water. he steals the quickest glance down, but sees nothing for the fog of salts. ]
I've a few c-clasps that need undoing. [ he angles himself, showing off buckles he is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. softly, over the heavy thud of his heartbeat rattling in his ears, he asks, ] Would you?