#viktor 001

Roman had a few hours to check out what was happening at the carnival. He'd spent the entire first day yesterday on shift, from 8am setting up to packing up and leaving around 5.30pm to be back at the diner and see how they were doing there, helping them out through the dinner shift. It was been a while since he'd done a 12-hour day... and he was feeling the effects of it today. He'd stayed in bed as long as he'd needed, but once he was awake, he couldn't lie there. He'd gone to see how the food truck was holding up, but Luciana had given him a stern talking to about working on one of his set days off... so he'd gone to try and distract himself.

He was checking out the various stalls with games and accessories. He felt like a teenager, eyeing up the cheap, tacky toys and wondering if Andrew would like him to win something for him. So it must've been some cruel twist of the universe when he turned, and somehow made direct eye contact with a handsome, dark-haired man and felt a strange pang of recognition. He frowned, then realisation hit, and he felt his stomach drop.

Shit. They'd made eye contact. He'd looked for way too long. There was no way to pretend he hadn't seen him. His jaw clenched, and not knowing what to do, he gave his ex-boyfriend and first love a nod of acknowledgement. It had been... God, how long? Over twenty years, and yet Viktor's final words to him were as clear as if they were from yesterday, coming back to him all of a sudden.

Did it still count when someone told you they never wanted to see or speak to you again over two decades ago?

Even in the winter, when the lush courtyard of Castle Tyrholm has turned cold and gray, Francis loves to visit. In the summer, it is a bustling, sunny place where they can watch lovers and friends meet. In the winter, it is quiet; a place for Francis to find peace. This cycle is the embodiment of the Undying God, and they find solace in watching it unfold: the circle of life and death, death and life. They come to the courtyard to pray, to breathe in the salty air of the sea, to watch the flowers bloom and grow.

Francis does not expect to find Viktor there, when they arrive the evening after the excitement at the tournament, but the Undying God has made their meeting so. They do not understand why, but they are confident it will be revealed in time.

Francis sits on a bench beside Viktor. They do not look him in the eye, but rather they stare outward, toward the sea. It is silent for a moment, as Francis contemplates what to say ( as it is unlikely Viktor will speak first ).

“That was quite a feat you accomplished yesterday,” Francis says finally, their voice meshing with the ebb and flow of the waves. “You have a quick hand.”