#skyyoung

Part One

Viktor accepts the wet cloth, confused, before remembering the blood on his face. He gingerly wipes it away in broad strokes, the cold linen coming away red and maroon in turn. He sighs into it, feels the way his breath heats the fabric, and remembers sitting too large in the metallic sink, hiding his face while his mother washed his hair. A comfort, these things.

”I appreciate your zeal, Ms. Young,” he says, setting the bundle on the table and pushing damp strands from his eyes. “But do not ever, ever separate me from my cane again. Do you understand?” He looks up through hooded hawkish eyes, jaw clenching minutely. A betrayal beyond her understanding, beyond any other accusation.

He sees what he needs and softens, his voice mellowed.

”What I need, what I needed from the start… is information. Data, Ms. Young, not superstition. I will allow I have perhaps spent too much time without sleep, my mind lacking its usual clarity, even to the point of vivid waking dreams. But, do not call me lost while I live and breathe, and do not use theatrics to get my attention.” He allows a small smile. Many a time have they chuckled over Jayce’s grandiose declarations, which were often followed by an unexpected explosion. “You know me better than that, yes?”

”So tell me the reported manner of this… corruption. What forms has it taken? Has it affected natural magic users, or those within the sphere of influence? What symptoms of mine do you see reflected in these records? Let us start there, and then extrapolate, hm? Perhaps we can find the origin of the supposed rot and pluck it out.”

Viktor leans forward encouragingly, cold fingers clasped on his lap, gently shaking.