[ Viktor dies.

Viktor wakes.

Viktor lurches up in bed so fast his head spins, his first words a biting, sharp, ] Jayce — the council — [ Desperation lining his face. A cold fear grips him, and he won’t be swayed. Even with the knowledge of wormholes and time travel providing a very tempting distraction, Viktor presses, insisting on knowing whether the others were safely transported like he was. It’s not comforting to hear that for all the possibilities contained within this far-flung future, innocent people still died. Viktor sits with this knowledge in silence. He mourns what could have been for the people of Zaun. All those who sat in that room, despite his misgivings about most of them. Viktor had been the one struggling to make sense of his premature death, and now he was the only survivor?

It’s a long moment before he finds the strength to move, but find it he does. That fire burns in Viktor always, a fierce, unrelenting spirit that spurs him to explore the ship, eager to find his footing in this new place. He refuses to stop when there’s still work to be done, and people to help, though it’s a little difficult at first familiarizing himself with the new crutch. Putting on an unaffected air, Viktor spots someone close by — someone who looks as lost as he feels — and he approaches, drawn to what might be a kindred spirit. ]

We have a saying in my homeland, [ Viktor says by way of greeting, crutch tapping against the glossy floor. ] ‘Hope dies last.’ As long as you are fighting to achieve something, you will survive. [ He makes a low humming noise. ] A little more literal than I first thought, but eh. It serves for our current predicament, wouldn’t you say? [ He doesn’t notice the reflection at first, instead focusing on his new companion. ]

[ It’s difficult to choose between the array of foods. Viktor had always been fairly adventurous not only in his professional life, but his culinary pursuits as well. There is very little he won’t try once, and while the cake(?) is tempting, he makes a beeline for the UPSIDE-DOWN PLUM SPARK-WINE first. ] Pity there’s no cigars, [ he murmurs, a tiny smirk tugging at his mouth. No one would understand the private joke with himself, but that’s fine. It would probably shock more people than it would earn him friends if anyone learned he had infected lungs.

Turning to tip the glass he’d plucked up at the nearest person, he offered a warm, ] Na zdraví, [ before taking a generous sip. Eyeing the bottle with a critical eye, Viktor made a contemplative noise. ] Not bad. A little weak, but pleasant. [ The burn reminds him of a wine from Zaun, and he’s suddenly filled with such a strong sense of nostalgia, it hits him squarely in the chest. He leans against the bar a little, exhaling, Skye would have enjoyed this filtering through his mind. ]

[ ooc: Feel free to poke and plot with me at mycroftier! 🫶 I’m open to most scenarios. ]