[ One ear angles, turning back toward the sound of Emet-Selch's voice. Luckily, Viktor has tamped down on the kneejerk desire to do the exact opposite of whatever Emet-Selch tells him to do as soon as the command is given. But that does not stop his words from settling on Viktor's shoulders with the same weight as always. He frowns, chews the inside of his cheek, but there's no begrudging the ensuing lecture. Like the mask, like the grapes, like countless battles and nightmares before, Viktor has not shown himself to exercise restraint where aether and adventure are concerned.
Telltale strain in Emet-Selch's voice speaks of firsthand experience, but Viktor can't quite imagine Hades ever being the sort of foolish that sets your soul to tatters. He tries to. A younger Hades, eyes impossibly bright, hair a bit more messy, maybe, and a mind that hasn't yet learnt that is must plan for every bad might could be. Even imagining Hades rushing blindly toward excitement, mystery, and magic, Viktor simply finds himself feeling abashed, sharp shame that he presses flat as Emet-Selch goes on.
What he doesn't expect is to have that feeling answered. Like a body in bed beside him, something hears his heart and wakes, stirs with a question. Viktor whips his head around, staring into the dark. ]
I will have a c-care, Emet-Selch. [ he says, soft, and a second later, the waking thing plunged into the Sea thrums across his awareness. In the same breath that he'd promised caution, Viktor reaches for what extends a hand to him and grasps it.
Feeling rushes to meet him, faint for the distance, but unmistakable: indignation, given, slotted into place in his heart where his own has been worn away almost to nothing. His reflection wakes and wonders at his presence, beckons him closer with a gift. Nonsense glimpses of a life lived flicker through his mind, fuzzy and fragmented for how long she has been drifting in the sea, but a familiar enough story that Viktor can fill in the blanks. ]
I th-think... Hydaelyn could not manage the reflected Seas as She did the Source as Her power dwindled. 'Tis why She hangs only faintly. Why it feels more... r-raw here than on the First or the Source. Like... a garden, forgotten and overgrown. And her f-favored here knew it.
[ The connection slips, and Viktor loses track of the soul stirred in the distance, but not what she'd given him. He is quiet for a few seconds, eventually turning to look at where he can feel, if not see, Emet-Selch, gazes where he guesses his eyes would be. ]
My reflection knows we are h-here. [ A pause, and then plainly, ] Do not speak to the children like that. Undercutting, I mean. You will lose them if you do. Even if they are... wrong, foolish, frustrating. You must meet them where they are, aye? 'Tis important they feel you respect them.
no subject
Telltale strain in Emet-Selch's voice speaks of firsthand experience, but Viktor can't quite imagine Hades ever being the sort of foolish that sets your soul to tatters. He tries to. A younger Hades, eyes impossibly bright, hair a bit more messy, maybe, and a mind that hasn't yet learnt that is must plan for every bad might could be. Even imagining Hades rushing blindly toward excitement, mystery, and magic, Viktor simply finds himself feeling abashed, sharp shame that he presses flat as Emet-Selch goes on.
What he doesn't expect is to have that feeling answered. Like a body in bed beside him, something hears his heart and wakes, stirs with a question. Viktor whips his head around, staring into the dark. ]
I will have a c-care, Emet-Selch. [ he says, soft, and a second later, the waking thing plunged into the Sea thrums across his awareness. In the same breath that he'd promised caution, Viktor reaches for what extends a hand to him and grasps it.
Feeling rushes to meet him, faint for the distance, but unmistakable: indignation, given, slotted into place in his heart where his own has been worn away almost to nothing. His reflection wakes and wonders at his presence, beckons him closer with a gift. Nonsense glimpses of a life lived flicker through his mind, fuzzy and fragmented for how long she has been drifting in the sea, but a familiar enough story that Viktor can fill in the blanks. ]
I th-think... Hydaelyn could not manage the reflected Seas as She did the Source as Her power dwindled. 'Tis why She hangs only faintly. Why it feels more... r-raw here than on the First or the Source. Like... a garden, forgotten and overgrown. And her f-favored here knew it.
[ The connection slips, and Viktor loses track of the soul stirred in the distance, but not what she'd given him. He is quiet for a few seconds, eventually turning to look at where he can feel, if not see, Emet-Selch, gazes where he guesses his eyes would be. ]
My reflection knows we are h-here. [ A pause, and then plainly, ] Do not speak to the children like that. Undercutting, I mean. You will lose them if you do. Even if they are... wrong, foolish, frustrating. You must meet them where they are, aye? 'Tis important they feel you respect them.