#knowthings

It was an unexpected sight—a welcome one, albeit strange. Caitlyn hadn’t planned for this, not in the slightest. Today's to-do-list included observation, keeping an eye on her father’s lackeys and their dealings, maybe pestering Sevika later if the opportunity arose. But running into a familiar face down here in the undercity? That hadn’t been on the agenda.

She was perched on a nearby balcony, draped in a large purple shawl that concealed her entirely, Caitlyn watched silently. The figure below moved in such a way that tugged at old memories. How many years had it been? Long enough for her to question if her eyes were playing tricks on her. So she waited, studying the movements, the posture. And then she was certain.

With a scoff, she rose, pulling the shawl tightly around her as she made her way down to the street. Caitlyn didn’t announce herself immediately, instead stepping up behind the girl and letting her presence linger before she spoke.

❝ Fancy seeing you here,❞ she finally called, her voice light yet laced with a sharp edge. The fabric still obscured her face, lending her a shrouded, almost ghostly appearance. There was no malice in her tone, but something about it carried an unmistakable sense of dark mischief.

Caitlyn leaned closer, her words playful but pointed. ❝ I thought you’d gone fully topsider on me. Assimilated to their ways, never to be seen again. What’s it like up there? Uptight, suffocating, and reeking of perfume and privilege, just as I imagine?” She smirked, though the expression was hidden beneath the fabric of her hood.

At last, she pulled it back, revealing her face. Her sharp blue eyes now mixed with a bit of purple glinted with something unreadable — a mixture of curiosity and something slightly... off-putting. The smile she wore wasn’t entirely friendly; it was more of a playful mockery, edged with a kind of unhinged undertone.

@knowthings asked : i won't be of any help.

" i am not asking you to solve a physics equation , miss emery. " with a soft chuckle , viktor's hands rest atop hers , guides them to rest on either side of the rather ambiguous looking amalgamation of parts of screws. prototypes rarely are beautiful things ... sometimes , they are barely comprehensible things. but now that they've perfected the hextech crystal , it's on to the next step of innovation . " i simply need an extra pair of hands , since you've got jayce running around doing magazine interviews or whatever it is you two spend your time working on these days. " slender fingers wrap around the tool he intends to use to solder things together , a tender smile spread across thin lips.

" now , do hold very still , miss emery. i may have the hands of a surgeon , but there is little i can do to mitigate another's shakiness. "

@knowthings liked for a starter ⸺ professor verse

for a friday night, it was surprisingly crowded in the café. usually the evenings were quiet, leaving him to work in peace, however large groups of teenagers and book club readers took up the majority of the seats. sat up on the tall stools that lined the window front, viktor was fully stuck into grading school work on the laptop he'd brought with him, only pulled from his focus when he heard a question at his side. ❛ is this seat free? ❜ blinking, he realised how much of an asshole he must have looked, bag dumped into the seat next to him and cane resting against the side of it.

Well if that's not a jab to his ego, he doesn't know what is. He has to remind himself that this is normal, that most Americans don't know who he is, that it's going to continue to be normal as he continues to interact with Americans. They don't know who Roy fucking Kent is, and he's a literal legend, so why would they know Jamie, who's... well, also a fucking legend, but less old. If Jamie were less bruised by the comment, he might've taken it and flirted in return - I can be whoever you want me to be tonight. Unfortunately, Jamie's ego rules him, and when it's bruised, it's hard for him to come back from that smoothly. He doesn't want to be outright rude, it's not her fault she grew up somewhere without culture [ because that's what football is to him, a culture. It's his first love, and it'll surely be his last ]. "Jamie Tartt. Y'might've heard of me." There - he'll see if she can connect the face to his name, now.

@knowthings     :     ❝   what is wrong with you?   ❞

ten minute power hour / accepting ; muse - august wilde

One moment they were comfortably on the couch watching tv, just killing a little time before their dinner reservation, the next she’s yelling. And he knows it’s not the show because nothing was really happening there, neither of them had actually even been paying attention to it. Which led him to the apparently wrong assumption that she was yelling at him. Nothing had quite been coherent though. 

Remember when made he made you wonder if you actually matter?

Remember how many times he was the reason you cried?

Remember how many times he made you feel low about yourself because he liked believing he was the better one?

Heres the truth you had been ignoring all that time. He didn't love you as much as you did. He didn't deserve you sis.