Having feelings is difficult when one bears the burden of duty, but... it is necessary. If- if I stop learning names, if it no longer hurts to lose the people who walk beside me, if choices that should be difficult aren't anymore, then what- what sort of world is my hand molding?

[ Viktor has never considered himself a leader in the way that Merylwyb or the Exarch had been. He has never dictated policy or given moving speeches to rapt audiences, but the reins of fate have nevertheless ever been in his hands. A leader, not standing at the top, but at the front, and there by virtue of those who have put their faith, their hope in him. It is only right, in his estimation, that their problems should be his problems, that the wick of his life is best spent to make their own a little brighter. He does not begrudge it. He does not regret his journey, his choices, the cost. He is only tired. ]

Better to f-feel. Even if it is painful and... messy.

[ He slouches, pressing his nose into his arms as he curls them together on the table, his hands tucked into his elbows. It muffles his voice when he gripes, ] And I do not wish to be cross with you...

[ Only slightly mortifying, to crack open his ribs, untangle the muscle of his heart, and be met with that familiar grim stoicism. It is familiar, though. Expected, for Hades to stand steady against the flood of Viktor's too soft heart. And there is a strange comfort to be had in that, in Hades taking the deluge of Viktor's hurt and sorrow without complaint or judgment.

Viktor rather loves him for it, but at the moment, he also wants more. ]

I wish to snack on cakes and drink tea while soaking in the bath with you. If you would have me.