[ No small amount of heartache chases Viktor while he watches his precious, peculiar, surly Hades wane until only that dark new moon Solus zos Galvus remains. Emperor, enemy, and yet Viktor musters no fury at the sight. Again, he is only struck by how unrepulsive he finds the form sat across from him; too busy with tracing familiar movements, the way someone lost looks for signs of the familiar. And he finds them, in that voice, in the way he holds his tea cup, in the set of his brow. What tension Viktor's nerves do manage is tired, the vigilance of an old dog unwilling to muster even a woof for a noise beyond the front door.

And then, Emet-Selch accepts his words without argument. Stands and approaches, tense and tired, but not seeking a fight. It is Hades who fits his fingers beneath Viktor's chin and tips his attention up as he always does, and Viktor, the little dog, ever obedient, ever eager for a bit of attention. He shuts his eyes and savors the warmth of lips upon his forehead, even if the form that plants the kiss is one that stokes fear in his belly.

Viktor does not let him get away cleanly, lifts a hand to catch his cheek. His face is smaller, more gaunt than his righter form, his eyes more tired, but still the same lantern light Viktor so adores. What a mess he has found himself in, full of doubt, and ready to forget every warning sign, provided Emet-Selch promises to touch him, look at him again.

Maybe he is meant to be a dog. ]

Should trouble and I pass in the halls today, she will not recall m-my name or face. I promise. [ He lets his hand drop, dusts fingers over the back of Emet-Selch's gloved palm. It feels a bit silly to wish safety for an immortal older than time, and so, instead, Viktor offers him a crooked smile. ] Stay warm out there. But not so warm that you've no need of me when you return.