|Ice Daddy (aceofskates) wrote in goddessland,|
@ 2017-09-17 08:10:00
|Entry tags:||character: katsuki yuuri, character: viktor nikiforov|
Who: Viktor Nikiforov & Yuuri Katsuki
Where: An empty field, then the edge of the forbidden area
When: September 17, morning
Warning: PG-13? Potential violence & ghoulishness.
He sat cross-legged on the ground, and man and creature stared at each other in silence.
They were in the middle of a large field, apparently empty and abandoned, as, he thought, was the village not far away. The air was sweet and clean, and he would have been reminded of the grassy area above the stone steps of Hasetsu's only temple, were it not for the fact that he couldn't smell the ocean, or hear the waterfall nearby or, further on, the faint rush of passing cars. It was unusually silent even for a small seaside town in Japan.
The creature was perched on a fence post just a few feet away, watching Viktor with sharp blue eyes, almost identical in colour to his. The facial similarities between the two of them made sense, as did the fact that the creature (it certainly resembled nothing he'd ever seen before, with talons and feathers and a beak made for ripping) spoke and understood Russian inside his head. It made sense because as curious as this all was, Viktor knew and understood that this creature was his, in the same way that Makkachin was his. Maybe more. If he had to explain why it's colours resembled his free skate outfit from Stammi Vicino, however, he had nothing.
He cocked his head to one side, and the critter did the same. It was about the size of a small house cat, smaller than Makka was. Makka herself sat at Viktor's side, and he had a protective hand in her fur. He had watched the creature hatch from a small pod next to him when he'd awoken just a few minutes ago, to Makkachin eagerly licking his face. He couldn't explain the sudden connection he felt, which had taken him off-guard, or the rush off affection and tenderness that came with it. But that did not excuse the fact that the bird-creature was eyeing Makkachin like she was dinner and had all but tried to devour her just a few seconds ago.
Food? chirped the creature in his head, perhaps picking up on his thought.
"Nyet!" he snapped, louder than he meant to. His fingers tightened in Makka's fur. "Not food. There will be no eating Makkachin, understood?"
The critter huffed impatiently, and ruffled it's feathers. Viktor could sense it's reluctant agreement, and a part of him relaxed, glad he wouldn't have to devote all of his time and energy into just keeping these two apart. Makka wasn't exactly an alpha dog, and she was very friendly and easygoing. She didn't really have a need to stand up for herself.
Fine. Not food. But still hungry.
Viktor could feel it's hunger pains and was about to respond, wondering if he was supposed to feed it or if the creature could hunt for itself. He didn't have to wonder long. He sensed it's delight as it picked up on the smell of meat (which this time, thankfully, was not a live dog), and flapped to the ground, where it began eagerly gorging on a pile of scraps that Viktor was almost sure had not been there a second ago.
This was all too weird.
"If this isn't a dream," Viktor began out loud, still using Russian, although he was unsure where he was going with it. The critter ruffled it's feathers again and Viktor could sense it's affirmative, even though it continued gorging. He would have felt more ridiculous talking to an animal if he didn't talk to Makkachin all the time (except Makka didn't talk back). It had to be a dream. What else could it be?
Something much bigger than you, the critter replied, in answer to his thought. Could it hear everything?
Only when you're thinking very loudly, it - he, Viktor was sure it was a he - replied, and this time it sounded amused. Viktor thought he could detect a trace of humour in it's expression.
He shook his head, attempting to clear it. If this was a dream, it was certainly a vivid one.
"You're a - "
Gryphon, it supplied helpfully.
"Do you, uh." He really was talking to an animal. He cleared his throat, and tried again. "You don't have a name?"
It paused, and Viktor thought it might be searching for the right word, perhaps pulled from his own memory.
Domovoi, it said, with finality. That was a word Viktor knew. His mother had told him stories about protective, and often mischievous house spirits. He could not recall them ever taking the form of a bird hybrid.
Think about it, Vitya, Domovoi interrupted his thoughts, using his informal diminuitive name, a name that typically was only used by close family, lovers, and trusted friends. I wouldn't lie to you, even if I could.
Viktor realized that was true. He couldn't entirely explain it but he could sense sincerity and truth in the connection he felt; Domovoi was a friendly creature, perhaps the only one in a strange land with a strange sky and forests all around that held a sense of forboding that he didn't care to dwell on. He might even be the only thing here that wanted to keep him alive, aside from Makka. Perhaps Domovoi wasn't an entirely inaccurate name.
"Then I won't lie to you, either," Viktor told him, and reached out a hand, his expression softening. The griffin ruffled it's feathers again and preened. Makka left his side, and with a quick glance to his right, he saw her begin digging in the ground. "Makka, don't go far," he instructed.
"If it isn't a dream," Viktor asked, "Then where's my Yuuri?"
Wherever here was, if it wasn't Hasetsu (it actually was beginning to remind him more and more of Switzerland)... would Yuuri even be with him? Viktor felt pained by the thought; in the last eight months he had spent less than forty-eight hours apart from Yuuri and it had been a traumatizing experience. He didn't even want to contemplate the possibility of being here alone.
The creature flapped it's wings once, in what Viktor thought was the equivalent of a shrug.
You should stop your dinner-friend, he suggested, and that gave Viktor pause. He glanced quickly to his side and saw that Makka was gone. His heart lurched. He located her a second later, bounding through the grass and chasing after birds, one of her favourite things to do.
If she keeps going, she'll end up in the forbidden area, Domovoi chirped, blinking at him. There are dangers there. Ghouls. Unpleasant. Dangerous.
Viktor could feel the shiver run down the griffin's spine, and at the same time, an unfamiliar, and far less pleasant mental image flashed through his head of teeth, bones, and rotting flesh.
"Makkachin," he choked out, barely able to force the sound past his throat. Seconds later, he scrambled to his feet, stumbling and bounding after Makka in what quickly became a full-out run. The griffin kept pace behind him.
"Makkachin!" he called, louder this time, flying as fast as his athletic legs would carry him.