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WHO: Eichi Tenshouin, Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri Katsuki
WHERE: Oros
WHEN: January 11th
WHAT: Gamma mission "WE ARE DREAMERS, SHAPERS, SINGERS, AND MAKERS"
WARNINGS: None

[Eichi had signed up for a research mission because it seemed the perfect choice. He wouldn't be left behind uselessly on the ship, but he wouldn't be thrown directly into the danger of the main mission. It's both lucky and unlucky that the two he wound up with are familiar with his condition, to an extent. They'll be more likely to understand that if he passes out, but he's already concerned about worry. He's kept silent this whole way about how the heat has his heart beating a little too fast to be comfortable, and how every step they take now over the dry land has him aching to take a break.

He's not sure if they called to stop because they noticed, or if it was simply convenient to stop in this small, shady section just at the base of a mountain. There's been no sign of what they're looking for yet. The tent is set up, probably a little sloppily, and Eichi is sitting on a larger boulder closer to the shade of the mountain, trying to subtly catch his breath. This mostly involves staring at the little O-7G7 plants, just two of them, pressed up against the mountainside and wondering when they'll be able to find signs of the creatures that are said to live on the east side of this planet.

Realizing that he's been silent for a little too long, Eichi lifts his head to give the tent a longer look now. He didn't help with it at all, so that was probably entirely Victor and Yuuri's doing. (Or one of them.)]

How exciting. Fufu, looking at a small tent like this, and how it's a little lopsided on one end... I feel like I really am adventuring. ♪ [They are adventuring. But nevermind that, he's pushing away complications to feel excited about living.]

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( He's trussed up in the tent the Feks carry back to their village, unable to fight his way to a clear view of what's happening, and going still to conserve energy once he lets it sink in that he's not doing himself favours if he ends up injuring himself. He manages to check his comm, seeing the blinking notification from Yuuri; it's not easy to tap out a response, but he does, swaying and jostled as the Fek continue on their silent way.

He tries to pay attention to the time passing. Makes note of when Yuuri sent his message, still tracking on ship's time. He can guess at their relative speeds, but they've slowed from their initial quick rush. This is ground eating, yes, but at a walk; he listens, strains to hear through the speakers of his helmet what's going on. The Fek are all but silent, breathing in and out, grunting every so often, as one grunts when expending effort. Nothing complicated. Nothing communicating much more than effort.

He remembers there's no language on file for the Fek. Wonders if there's even a spoken language to pick up on, or if he's hearing silence because this group is used to working as a unit. A good team doesn't need verbal communication.

Or so it's always seemed in his eyes.

He can see it takes a little over half an hour of walking before the way the Fek move changes. Trussed up as he is, he doesn't see the difference. He feels it, in the slowing down and the change in jostling. In the increase of idle thumps and the thud-thud of regular movement. Then he's being settled down, far more gently than he'd been expecting. It takes a few seconds for him to register he's truly no longer moving, that the firmness underneath him isn't his imagination. That he's not sinking down through that surface, finding his way out of the confines of the tent. He emerges into a dark hut, the lingering light of the long sunset of this world visible framed through the overlarge door and the glass of circular windows. Windows inset with geometric shapes; stained glass in all different colours. The pattern it makes is deliberate, but foreign. Victor would be hard pressed to identify what it was he was looking at.

Far more immediate is the Fek that stares down at him, antennae gently twitching over the length of its broad neck. Small eyes track his movements, large, round globules of whatever it is on the Fek's face seeming to pulsate in the dark room.

only it doesn't stay dark. much as Victor moves carefully, watching the Fek as it watches him, the stiffens as light floods the room from the left. taking a careful step around, he sees the source of light: a fixture set into the wall, partially shaded with an odd covering that keeps the light from directly flooding his eyes. or the Fek's, he realises, seeing how the light is directed up and along the surface of the wall.

the Fek shifts, watching him as he carefully moves around the room, walking toward the door after there's been a lack of any movement toward him. the Fek are meant to be the more peaceful species, from what little he knew in the files. it's when he's near the door that another Fek appears, filling the frame. it's the first time he notices the actual door itself, instead of just the frame. the odd handled door has metal latches, but appears to be built out of mud and something else; it looks sturdy, whatever it is, and it stays open with what appears to be a rock keeping it that way. the Fek in the doorway lowers its head to be on about the same level as Viktor when standing. the antennae on its head weave in a breeze that Viktor doesn't feel. then they curl around, the Fek angling its head so that the antennae brush over Viktor's helmet. he's surprised at the force; he actually feels them pushing at him, especially as they drop down to his shoulders and he brings his hands up, laughing as a startled, uncertain reflex. )

Hah, that's a little too friendly when we've just met.

( the words earn a sharp exhalation from the Fek, but it doesn't press when Viktor pulls himself away, shoving at one of the antennae. it flutters, then wraps around his wrist, both stronger than it has any right to be, and more gentle in how it holds him in place.

the small eye of the Fek observes him, making decisions. the other Fek in the room holds quiet.

he's not sure what's decided, only that he's let go, the Fek who'd been holding him with that strange antennae gently tapping one foot on the ground. it waits, expectant, and Victor holds up his hands, palms out. then he glances down, and confusedly lifts the toe of his boot to tap down in turn.

if it means anything, he's left ignorant as to what. the Fek turns away and heads back out into the sunset, the second Fek in the room navigating around Viktor to do the same. he's left abruptly on his own with the tent, its supplies, and the banged up oxygen generator. he should head out, see what he can find. instead, he settles on working his way through the mess of fabric and tears in the tent, pulling out supplies and arranging them against the wall.

all the while, he has the comm on his wrist. the Fek hadn't taken that, for all he suspects they were well aware he had it. after all, the wrist he'd found held had been the one supporting the communicator.

he sends messages back and forth with Yuuri, reassurances and observations and snapshots of supplies. he's bruised and he knows it, but he's not hurt; he's far more worried right now about his fiance (who does not think they are engaged) and their young friend. Eichi can't handle physical stresses. it's not his fault. it's just a fact.

but he has to trust they'll both be okay.

it doesn't take him long to assess supplies, heading for the door to see if anyone will stop him from heading outside. no one had closed the door; as he peers outward, he sees Fek in various sizes moving along the streets between well made, well repaired almost adobe-like houses. mud, he realises, and he wonders where the water to make it all comes from.

what's more startling is the glint of jewelry and decoration he finds on the Fek moving through the streets. a few turn heads his way, antennae waving, but none pause for long. antennae are painted more often than bejeweled, but forelegs, necks, backs, nostrils, foreheads; everything that could be decorated might support some fine chained medal, interspersed with small reflective discs or what he suspects might be gems. or more glass? he lifts his comm, taking snapshots and going still again when that catches the attention of a Fek about a head shorter than the two who had been dealing with Viktor not long before. that Fek continues to watch him, but make no move toward him. it's as if he's gained an observer to maintain watch over what he does as he swallows and starts forward, trying to see where he is in this curving landscape of a village. no... perhaps it's more accurate to call it a town, or a small city. it's more expansive than he'd expected, and as he wanders (finding every so often that a Fek trails after him at a distance, the same as the one who had stopped before), he finds himself taking in the sights as he tries to navigate unfamiliar territory. there are drains set into the street; the streets themselves are almost cobblestoned, but smoother, flatter. a strange sort of patio-like paving he hasn't seen before. the walls of the buildings he passes are all made of the same mud-brick substance, but while some are undecorated, and some have windows of simply clear glass, or of heavily rippled glass, many others have rich, geometric murals painted on their sides. there are low walls dividing regions that he can't determine what is being protected; not until he sees the shade being cast in one, a Fek in careful attendance to what looks to be a nursery of leafy green plants. the sight is familiar; it has to be one of those he'd seen in their information.

his Fek watcher doesn't like him lingering too long at the walls, so aside from taking another photo, Victor keeps moving.

what he sends back to Yuuri and Eichi are shots of the skyline; the long shadows of the mountains this town is built up against, and the angle at which the sun falls down to the horizon. even where the moon is, relative to where Victor stands; all little guides in giving Yuuri and Eichi directional cues. there are lights that show him the way as he goes. he can't identify where they're powered. it might be electricity? only he's not sure. half the lights look like glowing stone, though trying to touch one had proven improbably difficult.

he thinks he's finally found the outskirts of town, no concept of how accurate it was relative to where he'd been previously; but any attempt to get beyond the final barrier of mud-brick huts is met with almost unerring resistance. a Fek that walks in front of him, coming to a stop and stamping their foot with lazily waving antennae when he tries to move past; a more direct thud of feet on ground to send him stumbling back, hands held up in a gesture of placation that he doubts is recognised.

his watcher is the one who finally decides to corral him back to where he'd been first brought. an antennae curls around his wrist and he's tugged, pulled, and jolted along; for the first time noticing as well that not only the buildings were painted. intricate designs curl over the skin of the Fek, too; in subtler colours, perhaps, but with a pleasing relationship to the earthy tones of their skin.

Viktor tries pulling his wrist away several times, by tugging on the antennae, by walking at pace with the longer limbed native, by asking, by pulling ahead. the Fek doesn't care. doesn't listen. simply marches him back to the hut he'd started out in and leaves him there, with the tent and oxygen missing, and the supplies laid out and clearly sorted through. most things have been left behind. food rations, sleeping gear, even water containers. those are stacked on a low table he hadn't noticed before; much as he hadn't noticed the significant scoop of softer sand that his escort tromps past him to pointedly wallow in. small eyes watch him, and as the Fek lifts itself back out of the softer earth, it moves around to the side and then nudged Viktor toward it with its head.

he's hoping that means they're not going to snuggle. also that he's not going to be stepping into quicksand or anything of the kind. after being shoved into the wallow, he finds himself holding his hands up again, saying okay, okay, he gets it. he'll stay. for now.

it's simply surprising how pleasantly warm the sands are even through the protective layers of his suit. if he's not off his mark, these are the normal sleeping arrangements for a Fek; but unlike earlier, this time his door is pointedly closed. he can also hear the Fek sit down outside, silent as ever.

it's going to be a long, long night. )

[It's a long night for Eichi and Yuuri, as well. The latter is the one who messages Victor, as Eichi is too exhausted to stay awake the way he is. He sleeps through the night in the most uncomfortable way, waking every few hours to try and adjust how he rests with his helmet. He's found a rock to prop himself up against, but even that makes it difficult. By the time he's gotten enough sleep to feel ready to move, the sun still hasn't risen, and Eichi remembers that they were told the days and nights were longer here. He wakes Yuuri, they gather what they can and using the clues of Victor's pictures and the occasional dropped item from the tent along the way, they track him down to the well disguised city.

Well-disguised, but flashy at a closer look, with all of those decorations. Eichi likes it immediately. And regardless of how Yuuri might want to take a careful or cautious approach, he can only wait behind rocks for so long before he decides it's not enough. Ignoring the way he's sweating in his suit, and the dried blood still on the front of his helmet, he pushes up to stand and walks straight for the center of the village.

From the pictures Yuuri had shown him, Victor should be on this side of the village, so he turns his way there, hands pressing up to the strange, decorated mud buildings as he goes. He gives no warning to Yuuri about this, either. Sorry.]

Eichi, wait. [Yuuri practically hisses when his teammate begins to move. There's nothing for it, though, once Eichi's already gone in. Yuuri bites his lip and follows, eyes darting from side to side as if he's expecting the Fek to jump out and ambush them like they did the day before.

He catches up to Eichi, placing one hand on the mud huts curiously as well, though he doesn't linger too long as they move.]

Um... [Yuuri freezes in place as they walk past another mud building and nearly run into one of the Fek there. It stares at them, the antennae on its head waving as if it isn't sure what to make of them. Then it begins to lower its head, and Yuuri finds himself trying to remember if the file had mentioned what the Fek had in their regular diet. He hope they aren't about to find out right now.

Please don't eat us, he thinks at the Fek towering over them.]

( The Fek continues to watch, and continues to loom. It's almost strange to anyone used to verbal species; there is no sound outside of the harsh exhalation as the Fek seems to snort, the curling patterns drawn on craggy skin around its eyes done in reds and oranges. It makes no move toward them beyond lowering its head, angling an eye to better look at the,, but it's as if the world they've stepped into is reacting quietly regardless.

In the part of the town where Viktor sits tracing the seam of one beautiful, albeit dark, stained glass window, the ponderous bulk of the Fek at the door shifts, moving to feet and shaking themselves off with a grunt that he almost doesn't hear. It instantly has him twisting around, careful and wary. The door eeks open, one stout limb curling around the jam and a shoulder pushing it all the way open. The Fek does little more than shake itself off again, breathing out in a long exhalation. He isn't tempted to call it a sigh.

The Fek stands in the entrance, then backs out, moving to the side. There's no indication of anything more; just the patience that follows, as if Viktor will understand despite not having any inkling of what's going on. He has the pressing feeling yet again that there is a level of communication the natives here are used to that simply isn't shared with Homo sapiens. Not surprising, but... it's such a reminder of the alienness of this all, even if he's the one who's the alien.

Having anything he can recognise is almost more startling.

While Viktor contemplates approaching the open door, many streets away, two smaller Fek amble up behind both Yuuri and Eichi. One stamps its feet in a slow, rolling manner, antennae waving idly to and fro. The Fek that had been staring them down turns away, seemingly unconcerned with these new arrivals or the strange creatures invading its space. Waiting for either man to move, and finding they don't move perhaps as the Fek expects, the Fek not shifting from foot to foot with a gentle sway leans forward and gently places its head against Eichi's back. Nudging forward. Antennae stroke forward to pat over helmet and shoulders, but take no hold; Yuuri is left with the swaying Fek, whose own antennae sweep forward and flick at him, not touching, but testing.

When both Fek move forward, it's in tandem. Attempting to steer both men down the road and along the pathway they have in mind — one that happens to coincide with where Yuuri and Eichi wish to go, though there is no way for them to know this. )

Edited 2017-01-24 03:24 (UTC)

[Despite his clear weariness and the dried blood on his helmet, Eichi seems in high spirits. He's terrified, to be honest, of these large creatures and the situation that they're in, but he can't show that. Showing that wouldn't help. Yuuri is frightened enough, and they need to get to Victor. So, when there's a light weight at his back and antenna reaching around to pat at him, he can only laugh to hide his nervousness.]

Fufu, it looks as though we're receiving the red carpet treatment, Yuuri. ♪ Come on. They're recorded as gentle creatures, so we should cooperate, shouldn't we? A sneak attack could have been seen as a threat, but this seems more like an invitation.

[Or a march to their executions, but he's hoping for what he said aloud and walks with that in mind.]

[Despite the "oh my god PANIC NOW" instincts that had kicked in when he noticed the Fek coming up behind them, essentially trapping them, Yuuri manages not to give in to the desire to flee. Eichi is right beside him, for one, and Yuuri has no idea how much running his friend's body can handle right now. And he's not leaving without Viktor either.

Some of the immediate panic drains away when the Fek don't attack them. They're curious about us...? Yuuri wonders, when one of them presses its head against Eichi's back, and the other merely inspects him with its antennae.]

You think they're trying to tell us to go this way?

[Yuuri tries not to flinch when one antenna prods at his helmet, and he keeps walking with the Fek guiding their way in that silent way of theirs.]

( The antennae continues to stroke over the helmet, then down to the affixing clamps at Yuuri's neck. They draw away then, as if satisfied or curious over their findings and needing to consider the results.

The Fek drive them forward, one or the other moving to head them off from organic pathways that unfurl to the sides, or even the front; herding them by using themselves as physical blockades if they attempt to go elsewhere.

Still streets away, Viktor has edged to the door, moving with a casual roll of his hips and gentle swagger that he does not quite truly feel. Still, as he pokes his head outside to look at his large 'companion,' he finds the Fek has simply been waiting, watching normal traffic on the street. Traffic that seems to be thinning out, the ambling gait of Fek both burdened and unburdened by packages and baskets and even, in one case, an attached half-wagon, bringing them past in both directions. Only a few sway heads to look his way; more antennae twitch, as if tasting the air, but overall no move is made toward the alien in their midst.

He soon learns he's not to really leave. He's not sure what they're waiting for, but as he attempts to actually walk away from the adobe-like hut he's been ensconced in all the long, long night, his companion Fek shifts and moves to head him off. It's threat is in bulk, and nothing else; Viktor doesn't press his luck so much as continue to test it, as a child might. Poking and changing direction; walking away from one end of the door and forward facing wall to the other, seeing how far he can get before he's being firmly herded back into the radius of his temporary domicile.

He sighs, rubbing at his throat as he sends off another photograph to Yuuri.

I've been let back outside, but they're not allowing me to go walking like last night. It's as if I'm supposed to be waiting for something.

His hand at his neck seems to catch the Fek's attention. Or to prompt it into further staring, this time with antennae moving in twisting, odd ways. He doesn't know what it means. Is it irritated? Happy? Confused? Laughing? Playing a game of mental chess?

The Fek lifts its chin, then ducks its head down to Viktor's level. The large globule by its eye sweats, a thin trickle of fluid slowly leaking out. If this is a Fek crying, it's a very disturbing way of going about it. Viktor thought he had trouble handling human tears. This is even more bizarre.

Only the Fek grunts, stamping a foot when Viktor doesn't respond like it expects. Viktor would love to help, but he doesn't know what the native wants. He even holds his hands up, palms out, apologising; and finds his wrist rudely encircled by an antennae that tugs his hand down, forcing it and the glove to go under the stream of liquid leaking from the Fek itself.

It's pooling in his hand.

And for the first time, Viktor begins to suspect this might be a form of caretaking.

Mostly as he suspects he's being offered some version of water. He cups his other hand with his first, and the Fek blinks, keeping hold of his wrist until the trickle of liquid comes to a gentle stop. Then it lets go, and Viktor is left holding water in his hands and wondering how in the world he handles this situation without offending someone.

Help. )

Edited 2017-01-25 04:54 (UTC)

I'm almost positive. They're gentle creatures, aren't they? If they wanted us dead, even in the form of ritual or some other method that we don't understand, they would have come back for us in the night, or circled on us now. Instead, they're so calm. ♪ These rumbling footsteps are shaking right to my heart. They must be showing us something.

[Eichi is right, but in that weird way where it's unclear how he figures all of this. Instinct? He's trusting his gut, honestly, and so he follows along much more pleasantly than Yuuri. The truth is, he's just as nervous and worried that they might be directed to Victor's corpse and the following moments will be very unfortunate, but he's careful not to voice any of this.

Then, it catches his eye. Up ahead, he sees a head of silver hair and smiles. He thinks he'll let Yuuri see for himself.

But what on earth is Victor doing with that fek?]

[Eichi has a point, Yuuri tells himself. The Fek could have overpowered them at any moment if they had really wanted to, and yet there they are, prodding him and Eichi along like this instead. Even knowing this, Yuuri feels the tension thrumming through him as he cycles through several similar thoughts of what could go wrong from here.

Then, he sees the unmistakable silver hair, standing out starkly against the brown of the mud huts around them.]

Viktor...! [He chokes out in relief. While his instinct is to break into a run and reach him as quickly as possible, there's Eichi and the Fek guarding them to consider. Yuuri, determined, wraps one hand around Eichi's wrist so they won't get separated--just in case. Then, he glances at the Fek, wondering if they'll let them go now.]

( The fact Viktor has managed to wear just the faceplate and breathing apparatus for his helmet has... to do with reasons involving sand clogging and the like. REGARDLESS, as he stands there holding water in his hands, so careful not to spill it, he hears someone calling out his name. Whipping his head around, he breaks into a smile only partially obscured by his helmet; he stays in place, because he hasn't truly been invited to leave, and instead calls out to the two familiar forms approaching.

he's so glad to see them both up and walking. so immeasurably glad. )

Yuuri! Eichi! You're both okay!

( still, he glances down at the water in his hands, pursuing his lips. ah... )

Yuuri, can you come take my mask off for me for a moment? My hands are full, and there's something I need to do.

( Namely: drink.

he's so unsure about this, but he's going to fake it until either he makes it, or he dies. the Fek escorting both the other men bring them up to the one Viktor stands besides, leaving off on their nudging and guiding as they take a step back, lifting heads to look over Yuuri and Eichi down at Viktor with his hands cupped just so. )

[Eichi is silent and follows along wherever Yuuri might take him by the wrist. As they're guided to Victor by the fek, he can at least stop moving and catch his breath. As slow as the walk was, he's exhausted already, and the blood stain on his helmet is really bothering him. When will he get the chance to clean it off?

But something draws his attention despite that, as Victor requests help from his fiance. (That's right, fiance.) The liquid pooled in his hands...]

Is that water? [In his hands? From where, on this planet?]

[Yuuri takes an aborted step forward, then glances back at their escorts. When the Fek accompanying them make no move to stop him, he reaches Viktor's side with some relief. Viktor doesn't look injured--it's only then that Yuuri finally allows himself to relax.]

Your mask? [Though Yuuri lifts his hands to Viktor's face, he hesitates, exchanging a worried look with Eichi. What on Earth is going on?] Will you still be able to breathe?

No.

( He's not going to lie to his fiancé (STILL PAINFUL TO WRITE, BTW). He keeps his voice nice and conversational, even. )

But I don't always breathe when I'm drinking anyway. If you're holding my mask, I won't fumble for it. Please.

( he's making Yuuri responsible for that, which is not strictly fair. he's still doing it. )

[Yeah, he will leave it to these two. Meanwhile, though, he's going to reach a hand curiously towards one of the fek and see if they will permit him to pet them, or at least pat them.]

["No" he says, like Yuuri's supposed to feel better about doing this. Yet, what else can he do here?]

...okay, fine. [Still radiating tension, he takes the mask off as gently but quickly as he can, then holds it to his chest as he watches Viktor with obvious concern.]

( He makes himself breathe out, lifting his hands to his mouth so he can take a mouthful of the water (warm, he notes, and oddly flavoured, in no way he precisely knows how to describe) and swallow, once, twice, before lowering his hands and turning his face, eyes open, to Yuuri again.

He really does hope he's fast with the mask. Viktor doesn't need to breathe immediately, but he'd prefer to feel this is as natural as possible. The fact he still needs to do this again to get it all down is another hurdle they're tackling together.

Meanwhile, Eichi's curiosity is rewarded by the twitch of the Fek's hide under his hand, and a curious look from the Fek in question. It likewise reaches out to touch Eichi's shoulder, mimicking the same pat or stroke. It's a bit like strange mirrors.

The Fek who had offered Viktor 'water' leans closer, snorting. Both antennae have come to a more sedate rest as it watches Viktor accept its offer, even with all the strange business between Yuuri and the face decoration that appears to be removable? )

[Ah, it mimicked him! Eichi is so drawn in to playing mirror games with this Fek that he only half glances back to Victor to see what he does next. Continuing his petting strokes, and not minding the ones he's getting in return at all, he stays silent. This is calming for his heart rate...]

[Meanwhile, Yuuri’s eyes stay glued to Viktor as he waits anxiously for him to finish. Just where did he get the water, anyway? Maybe the Fek had given it to him from their supplies as some kind of peaceful gesture? Now that the three of them have been reunited, Yuuri knows that Eichi’s assessment had been correct—if the Fek had wanted to harm them, they could have done it so many times over already.

As soon as Viktor’s done drinking, Yuuri practically shoves the mask back at him, ready to help Viktor put it back on.] Everything okay?

( Eichi will soon find the Fek has started playing with his helmet, gently and systematically looking for any sign of hidden antennae. it even tries gently rapping against the top of his helmet, to no avail.

Victor takes the mask back, sliding the relevant parts over his nose and mouth to suck in air; how he'd managed to get all that oddly almost sweet, body-warm water down he doesn't think on too hard. he gives Yuuri a thumbs up before he follows up with words, the Fek who'd been so carefully observing him shifting and dropping one front knee down to carefully lean against Victor, causing him to stumble before he leans back into the Fek. wide eyes look to Yuuri in his surprise: )

I'm fine, but I think they... anyway, if a Fek ever weeps for you? I can't believe I'm saying this, but it might be polite to drink their tears.

( it's not actually about weeping, but it sounds appropriately dramatically ridiculous, and feels close enough for now. )

[Eichi laughs at the Fek's attempts, lifting his hands back to hold his helmet after the gentle tapping doesn't stop. Wah, he'll get dizzy, even from this small motion. Eventually, he turns back to look at Victor.

Maybe the fek was weeping over his failed proposals.]

That's so poetic. They really are gentle creatures, aren't they? This one is so friendly, I almost want to hug it. Fufu, but it could crush me in an instant, and I don't want to make a wrong move. I'll stand here politely, instead. [But he does move his hand back to pet the fek.]

Pet pet~.

[Mission what mission.]

[Yuuri watches Eichi and the other Fek play around, his concern ebbing away slowly. Though he still has no idea what the Fek are trying to do with him and Eichi, any of the danger they'd felt at their original campsite is essentially gone.

Yuuri turns back to Viktor, shaking his head in disbelief.]

Is that what you just drank? Fek tears?

[Yuuri can't decide if knowing is actually better than not knowing in this case.]

For the sake of not thinking about it too hard...

( Victor shrugs, so magnanimous. )

Eichi, I think they'd be fine with hugs! Maybe.

( The Fek that's been shepherding Victor's movements takes a step toward him and Yuuri, nudging Victor forward into Yuuri. He turns it into a slinging of his arm over Yuuri's shoulders, taking steps as the Fek falls in step with them and walks them toward Eichi and his own companion. At least Eichi's Fek is no longer tapping at his helmet, having looked toward the others once Victor was pushed in motion. )

They might be wanting us to walk town again. I don't know, they've been quiet this whole time.

I'm so frail that I would be crushed if a hug is accidentally insulting. Do you want to try first?

[Anyone would be crushed, Eichi, don't be rude. But his joking aside, he notes the movement and shifts to stop petting, ready to move as well. He's only trying to make things light to ignore how horrible everything is right now.]

It's as if they can communicate with their eyes. In a way, it reminds me of a performance. Busy singing and dancing, but communicating clearly through the eyes of your friends and partners~. It's an art, isn't it?

Maybe they can sense that we are also performers.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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welcome to the madness

hopefully this works,

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That bracket meta is so savage

WHERE IS THE LIE, YUURI

at least eichi didn't say it aloud, which really he could