#viktor 01

There were many names for what it was Jinx was doing. Skulking, snooping, clandestine people-watching...she'd become accustomed to it in the years under Silco. It was a fun hobby, great way to spook people, and- most importantly- great for hearing things people wouldn't say if you were around. Course, there wasn't a lot worth listening to around here, at least not comparatively to her old stomping grounds.

So spooking people it would be, and few places in the city had as high a concentration of dark corners and conveniently-placed fire escapes to lay dramatically upon as Crimson Lane. Sure enough, she found such a place to hang around until someone who caught her interest wandered by.

the casino is starting to empty and gideon figures that’s as good as time as any to head back to the pali house. he’s had his fun, now it’s time to sleep and pray that ambrosia doesn’t bring nightmares like the first time—or that he doesn’t have the nastiest hangover he’s had since drinking it the first time. he’s just walking along, minding his own business when he sees it: a man face down in the fountain. “the fuck?” he says out loud, looking over his shoulders to see if anyone else is coming. nope, no one. he thinks for a minute on just leaving him, but knows that’d be a shitty move considering most of them probably drank their weight in ambrosia. he jogs over to the fountain and, using his new found strength, attempts to turn the man over so he’s not swallowing the fountain water—and to see if he’s dead or not.

the transition from the green tinted waters, the specks of vibrant color that flickered beneath the waves, along the cavern walls, to the barren, ash-grey tones of undertown is almost enough to give him whiplash. 

almost. 

in the distance, he sees the fading lights of a carnival. around him, he sees the dilapidated houses that look like they’re on their last life. fitting, considering they’re in the underworld. 

with the swords sheathed and the seed secured, he steps from the boat, his arms wrapped over his chest as if to keep himself from spilling out. droplets of blood have dried against his earlobes from the deafening screech of the metal clang, thick, red, finger-shaped bruises wrap around his throat like a necklace—fiery red, glaring. 

he sees those that have already made it to undertown, who knows how long they’ve been here, and turns his head over his shoulder to look at yves, finn, and viktor. then, with a slow move of his head, he looks toward the rest of them. 

not able to face them yet, he turns to walk up toward viktor, arms still crossed over his chest. 

“thank you.” he says, keeping himself out of arm’s reach of the russian demigod. “i was pretty sure i was going to die.” 

“Ah, Vitya, I found something for you in my travels through Little Odessa today,” Dimitri said coolly, slipping into his brother’s study and tossing a glossy magazine down on Viktor’s desk. Dimitri slid into one of the plush chairs across from Viktor’s desk, lounging across it and pointing with a hand at the catalog, a saucy little number entitled Mail Order Brides Monthly. “Since I’m to be sold like a common whore, I might as well be featured like one.”

Starry-eyed and swollen-lipped, Henryk brushed his fingers against his mouth in a daze as he moved about the ballroom, a dull sort of ringing in his ears. The new year was upon them, and 2019 had come in blazing with fireworks and cheers sounding around the city of Oslo below. Henryk was in a stupor after his passionate exchange with Adelina out on the balcony, and as the princess had left to use the powder room and gather her belongings, Henryk was weaving his way through the throng of the party room, attempting to fix his hair as he moved through people.

“Oh, excuse me,” Henryk said as he made his way past someone, trying to make his way to the bar so he could grab himself a glass of water. “Just looking for a refreshment. Happy new year, by the way!”

kian stands just outside the greenhouse. he wonders what the others have been wishing for. he’s seen them go in two by two and then leave after a few moments inside. he’s heard the small chatter, a wishing well of sorts, and it reminds him of throwing coins in fountains when he was younger. those wishes, he thinks, never came true, but maybe now that he knows magic is real—that’s he’s composed of it—it will make a difference here. he shakes his hands and is about to step inside when he sees another person stepping forward, too. “did you want to go in together or do you want to make the wish on your own?” kian asks the son of poseidon as he stops short of the greenhouse door. he reaches out for the door and opens it, waiting to see if the other will go in or stay outside. 

No way, it couldn’t be… could it?

It was, it had to be and he couldn’t believe it. Yuuri had given up on the idea of finding someone, anyone he knew in this strange city but just up ahead was the man he’d recognise anywhere. His idol, his coach, his… friend? By some miracle, Viktor Nikiforov was here in this bizarre place and Yuuri suddenly didn’t feel so alone, lost and confused. He’d be okay if he was with Viktor, right? He had to be.

He began to move, eyes locked firmly on the taller of the two, his voice calling out before he even realised.

“Viktor? Viktor!”

He had to get his attention, he had to, just…