[other visitors to such a scenario might dream of falling, but in Viktor's nightmares, he's swimming up through terrible dark and pressure. Slow, tired, and seemingly futile. His body too heavy and too weak. Failing him, unable to just float on its own. He's running out of air. The surface never gets closer. He's running out of time-
Gasping, his head breaches up out of contaminated water. Liquid burns into overworked lungs, struggling to not burst from his chest. His body feels so, frustratingly human again, the dream giving him no strength of monstrous form. He is the man again who spent too long in the lab, didn't get enough sun. Who grew up in these pits, both literal and figurative. Fingertips dig into muddy ground pulling himself onto the shore of the pool. How had he been drowning there? It's such a small pond. Shouldn't be so difficult to swim in, should it? Viktor heaves and coughs up all he can, punching his own chest to try and help it along. Mucous comes up indistinguishable from blood.
When he looks up, his eyes focus on walls of scrawled formulas. Somehow, he knows this is Jayce's work. He can recognize it anywhere. Even without a signature on every page.]
... J, Jayce-? Jayce-! Are you here? [he's caught up in another fit of coughing, echoing all through the caves, scattering any curious lizards interested in the new guest. The puppets won't be watching. They know their master no matter his form.]
late with starbucks to the terror hole
Gasping, his head breaches up out of contaminated water. Liquid burns into overworked lungs, struggling to not burst from his chest. His body feels so, frustratingly human again, the dream giving him no strength of monstrous form. He is the man again who spent too long in the lab, didn't get enough sun. Who grew up in these pits, both literal and figurative. Fingertips dig into muddy ground pulling himself onto the shore of the pool. How had he been drowning there? It's such a small pond. Shouldn't be so difficult to swim in, should it? Viktor heaves and coughs up all he can, punching his own chest to try and help it along. Mucous comes up indistinguishable from blood.
When he looks up, his eyes focus on walls of scrawled formulas. Somehow, he knows this is Jayce's work. He can recognize it anywhere. Even without a signature on every page.]
... J, Jayce-? Jayce-! Are you here? [he's caught up in another fit of coughing, echoing all through the caves, scattering any curious lizards interested in the new guest. The puppets won't be watching. They know their master no matter his form.]