[for Luther] - Canon Update
Jun. 29th, 2022 04:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fifthbeatleHe wakes up with a terrible headache in the wee hours, the new day's color not yet streaked in the sky.
Viktor's power doesn't give him a hangover, nor did he drink last night. Yet, he's groggy, awakening into a strange, barely-conscious space. It's almost like the pill-hangover he'd get when he took a few too many of Hargreeves' suppressive pills.
Reginald Hargreeves, the image of him, is seared into Viktor's mind, cruel and sneering and alive. Other shapes and vague concepts try and assemble themselves, but Viktor won't let them. It's just a dream. A really fucking bad dream. With meditation and stubbornness, Viktor finds sleep again.
The next time he wakes up, it's with a start, a gasp, feet flipping the covers off of his body like that time one of his young, asshole siblings dropped bugs in his bed. The pain in his head isn't a feeling, it's a sound, like the first time he knew he and Harlan were connected. Oh, fuck, Harlan. Harlan.
Young Harlan, sitting up gasping for air that wasn't ever Viktor's to give. The boy he knew, terrified, his sneakers finally touching down on the hay of the barn floor. Harlan as an old man, swinging a thrall of yellow lights, tearing into Viktor's body, painful and chaotic, but guided with love. The sprawl of marigold gifts he gave. Harlan dead. Harlan's dead.
Viktor is up on his feet now, possessed. He stares hard at the sheets, like maybe they're drugged. A hand goes to touch his hair... and there's much less of it. Synapses are still firing. Viktor grabs the first shirt he can find and ducks into it. Since there are no mirrors in his room, he dashes out to the bathroom, and stares.
Liking what he sees doesn't lessen the panic of seeing himself so changed. It's right, Viktor has no doubt, has always known -- it's not about that. It's about yesterday, and what happened between then and today. Fuck, what did he do yesterday?? He had lessons, didn't he?
No! No, yesterday was Luther's wedding. They were drunk. Like, really drunk. And today. Today is... weird. It feels weird.
Yet, he feels great. He looks great. This is who he is. The feeling of looking in the mirror and seeing him is... indescribable. Singular. Like when he found out that Hargreeves--
"Oh, shit. Luther," Viktor breathes. Nothing quite makes sense, he doesn't know what is real, and he is panicking. When he sprints to Luther's room and he isn't there, Viktor starts to freak out. Tears sting his eyes as he walks a small, barefoot circle, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck. What is going on with him? How will he know where to look for Luther if he doesn't know what's real?
Viktor's power doesn't give him a hangover, nor did he drink last night. Yet, he's groggy, awakening into a strange, barely-conscious space. It's almost like the pill-hangover he'd get when he took a few too many of Hargreeves' suppressive pills.
Reginald Hargreeves, the image of him, is seared into Viktor's mind, cruel and sneering and alive. Other shapes and vague concepts try and assemble themselves, but Viktor won't let them. It's just a dream. A really fucking bad dream. With meditation and stubbornness, Viktor finds sleep again.
The next time he wakes up, it's with a start, a gasp, feet flipping the covers off of his body like that time one of his young, asshole siblings dropped bugs in his bed. The pain in his head isn't a feeling, it's a sound, like the first time he knew he and Harlan were connected. Oh, fuck, Harlan. Harlan.
Young Harlan, sitting up gasping for air that wasn't ever Viktor's to give. The boy he knew, terrified, his sneakers finally touching down on the hay of the barn floor. Harlan as an old man, swinging a thrall of yellow lights, tearing into Viktor's body, painful and chaotic, but guided with love. The sprawl of marigold gifts he gave. Harlan dead. Harlan's dead.
Viktor is up on his feet now, possessed. He stares hard at the sheets, like maybe they're drugged. A hand goes to touch his hair... and there's much less of it. Synapses are still firing. Viktor grabs the first shirt he can find and ducks into it. Since there are no mirrors in his room, he dashes out to the bathroom, and stares.
Liking what he sees doesn't lessen the panic of seeing himself so changed. It's right, Viktor has no doubt, has always known -- it's not about that. It's about yesterday, and what happened between then and today. Fuck, what did he do yesterday?? He had lessons, didn't he?
No! No, yesterday was Luther's wedding. They were drunk. Like, really drunk. And today. Today is... weird. It feels weird.
Yet, he feels great. He looks great. This is who he is. The feeling of looking in the mirror and seeing him is... indescribable. Singular. Like when he found out that Hargreeves--
"Oh, shit. Luther," Viktor breathes. Nothing quite makes sense, he doesn't know what is real, and he is panicking. When he sprints to Luther's room and he isn't there, Viktor starts to freak out. Tears sting his eyes as he walks a small, barefoot circle, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck. What is going on with him? How will he know where to look for Luther if he doesn't know what's real?
no subject
Date: 2022-07-25 11:31 pm (UTC)Luther knows he probably looks like he's been slapped because he feels like he's been slapped. Already, he's cramming all of those Allison-related feelings and memories and incidents as deep as they'll go, away from him. He can't face it now, he can't think about about--
"What kind of deal did she make?" Luther asks, hating how small his voice sounds. "Did she know? What Dad was going to do to me?"
With his heart roaring in his ears, Luther tries to get control of the absolute feeling of freefall. Maybe Allison really had more in common with the old man than he thought. Maybe Allison also knew what someone should do with a tool that doesn't work for them anymore.
He reaches back out to Viktor with shaky hands. "Hey, hey, this is real. Right here. We're in this weird purgatory world named Darrow. And whatever the hell happened, it just happened to both of us, so we can deal with it together."
no subject
Date: 2022-07-27 06:35 pm (UTC)And Viktor doesn't know what Allison has done to Luther. Now, he believe she isn't capable, though he should. The rumor that robbed Viktor of his power was set into motion by Hargreeves' instructions to a child that couldn't have understood what their father was asking. The Allison he knows understands that her power is costly. She was leading an honest life.
Or so she thought. Can any of them call their lives honest when they don't even know how or why they exist in the first place?
Seeing Luther's hands trembling like his own, hearing his call back to what they have to believe is the present bolsters Viktor's courage. He nods, swallowing all of the fear and confusion and tucks his hand into Luther's.
"Yeah, you're right." It looks like he's not quite around to fully believing it, but having Luther here, remembering the same things that Viktor does makes him sure that they will find their footing. He rests his head against Luther's shoulder between them.
"I'm so glad you're okay."