05.08.3014: A Complicated Life
Summary: Victor comes seeking his wife after her near-fall/jump from the top of the Blackspyre.
Date: 3 January 2014
Related: Cracked
Victor Devon 


Vic and Devon's Apartments, The Blackspyre
The entrance opens into a sitting room centered around a wide, deep couch of soft, worn brown leather. A dark wood coffee table sits before the couch, with a humidor and an ash tray atop it. Beyond the coffee table is a sizeable vidscreen, dominating one wall of the sitting room. A desk is tucked into a corner of the room behind the couch, with a half-fridge sitting alongside it.

A hallway departs from alongside the desk, leading back to a small bathroom, a study that holds a rack for his armor and his axe, a scattering of trophies from drake kills, and a bench sparsely populated by computer and electronics gear, including leads connecting the terminal to the armor rack. A simple chess board sits at one end of the bench, usually halfway through a game.

Beyond the study is a bedroom with a series of wide windows that look out over the southern quadrant of Volkan. The bed is plain, with ash-gray sheets, a comforter being rarely necessary in the center of the Crescent. A bedside table sits alongside the bed, holding a lamp, a datapad, and a music player. A bureau rests along one wall, alongside a closet that is only half full of clothes, mostly dark, ashen colors. The one spot of brilliant color in the room is a blaze-orange jersey from a famous Khournas Drakes striker from his childhood. It has been hung up in a glass case, where the black signature of the player in question stands out starkly across the numbers.

May 8, 3014

Victor had time to strip off the plates of his armor in the crawler back to the nearest Waygate, but that also means that he didn't get back to the Blackspyre for at least four hours. The mesh bag holding the color-changing ceramic and metal plates of his Aggressor armor clatters as it hits the floor and the side of the couch, and he calls out, "Dee? Your alarm gone off yet? If not, I'm totally sorry." Amusement ripples under his voice, although the tightness behind the words is at least as much in evidence.

Sleep never returned to Devon after she was escorted back to the apartments she shares with Victor. She tended to her split knuckles and scraped cheek — all earned because she tried to do great bodily harm to the well-meaning House guards who came to yank her from sudden doom. She sits heavily on the side of the bed, bundled up in thick fleece blankets. Her gaze barely lifts from the spot of nothingness she stares at when Victor steps inside and calls to her. She breathes out a slow exhale. "In here," she says hoarsely. The first words she has spoken since the… incident.

Victor goes to the sound of her hoarse voice, moving in to study her closely. One hand drops down to lift her chin and look over her scuffed cheek. Dropping down to crouch in front of her, he then looks over her hands, "So. Either you were so distraught that I was gone that you tried to throw yourself off the roof, or you figured that me bein' gone was a good chance to escape. I'm just tryin' to figure out which one it is." Yes, he's trying humor, although his gravelly voice remains tight beneath the attempted joviality.

Devon does not flinch or recoil as her husband examines her physical state. Her gaze lifts to meet his, and his humor does earn a slight smile. "Neither." Her voice is still a bit rough, and she clears her throat a bit before continuining, "I was… dreaming. I was climbing the Blackspyre to the overlook… both in my dreams and in reality, it seems." Tears start to fill her eyes, and she looks away. "More blood… more snow… and the ship again, Victor… the sky was falling apart, and then the tower collapsed, and I…" Her voice chokes. "I started to fall. He… he caught me."

Victor grunts softly at the limited reaction, although he settles into silence to listen to her words, "Sleepwalking, Dee?" The deep voice is soft now, barely more than a murmur. "An even worse reaction than the underwater Dream." He gets up from his crouch, moving over to the bathroom, pouring up a glass of water and snatching a washcloth. Coming back to the bedside, he crouches again, wetting the cloth and starting to dab at his wife's knuckles, "So did you punch walls or people? You're gonna have to tell me if I should do more than just rinse 'em off."

Devon quicky brushes the fleece blanket under her eyes as he goes to fetch the washcloth and water. "People." The Awakened woman watches him care for her knuckles. "Sleepwalking," she confirms softly. "Never, ever have I done that before… the dream was so vivid… I could taste the cold." Then she drops her chin a bit. "It was our son." She lifts her gaze to meet his. "The one who caught me… he told me to wake up, and kept me from falling." She actually offers a weary smile. "Well, and the unfortunately guard who pulled me back."

Victor nods his head slowly, "Better than punching walls. Less damage to your hands." Given that he has a couple of sunken knuckles and scars on the backs of his hands, he's likely speaking from experience. The words that follow from the Volen-Grantham-Khournas cause the usually stolid knight to blink hard, the next best thing to a gape from another man. "Our son. Caught you?" His brow furrows deeply, and he reaches up to touch her temple, "You feelin' okay, Dee? You know, besides the whole sleepwalkin' thing."

"I'm not crazy!" Devon curls her hand tight around his. "I saw him, Victor… he grabbed me as I was falling, told me I needed to wake up." She deflates a bit now, feeling the last bit of her energy drain away. "I'm okay," she surrenders. She draws the fleece blanket closer up around her, sinking into the soft fabric as if it is her only comfort. She starts to rub wearily at the taut stretch of her belly, feeling the unborn child within stir.

"Never said you were." The squeeze causes Victor to look down at her hand again, and he sets the water and wet towel on the bedside table with his still-free hand, "The boy bein' in your dream, think it means something?" As she folds in on herself, he rises to his feet, his hands going to her shoulders, "Let's get you laying down. See if you can get some sleep that ain't vertical." The hand on her belly causes him to grin just a little, one of his hands dropping down alongside hers, "We're gonna have a son."

"Yes," Devon says after a heartbeat pause. "I… just don't know what yet." She relents to the hands on her shoulders, and she slowly swings her legs around so that she can slowly descend horizontally onto the bed with her head sinking into the pillow. She lifts her gaze toward his at his lightly grinning words. Her hand drifts over to gently rest against his over the taut stretch of her belly. A hint of nervousness accents her own smile. "I think… he's Awakened as well."

Victor moves to help Devon lie down, then to pull the covers up around her, "There was always a chance." Once the sheets are in place, he turns to sit down, his left hand rising to rest on her brow, "You forget, Ash is Awakened. Ain't gonna shock me to have a Hermetic in the family." He makes a soft, thoughtful noise, his blunt fingers moving lightly at her hairline, "You had me worried, Dee."

Devon shivers at the touch of his hand to her brow, though its warmth does draw her eyes closed briefly. She nods slightly. "I forgot," she murmurs. "So little of my own family expressed the ability…" Though she does pause a moment, offering him a gentle smirk. "Hermetic or Sorcerer," she corrects quietly. Though if there is further argument in her about her son's Awakened future, it falls silent at his confession. "I'm sorry," she whispers, tilting her head back slightly at the touch to her hairline.

Victor rests his palm on her forehead, his thumb brushing over the hollow where her nose rises between her eyes. "Hermetic or Sorcerer. Yeah, yeah. Just so long as he kicks ass at something." He draws in a slow breath, then lets it out again, some of the tension draining from his shoulders, "Not your fault. Well, I mean, it kinda is. Bein' all badass with your Awakened powers and shit." His voice slowly lowers as he speaks, despite the humor replacing the worry, letting the tones draw down to a mere rumble.

An exhausted smile pulls at the corners of her lips, and she reaches up to touch the man's shorn brow. She curves her hand around until its back rests against his cheek. "Losing control in your own dreams is dangerous, Victor… I hope this was just a… chance incident." She then drops her hand away, drawing herself upright a touch. "Are you due back out on the field?"

Victor turns his head to press a kiss to the back of her hand, "So what's the solution? Besides lockin' the door." The question causes him to shake his head, and he shifts around so he can toe off his boots and kick his feet up on the bed, stretching out alongside her, "Eh. At some point. We're just doin' prep-work though. I can be gone a day or two. Figure this shit out."

"I…" Devon shakes her head, wearily twisting her fingers together. "I don't know." She lifts her eyes to him, those pale pools reproachful. "I have thought… that perhaps I should pay a visit to the White Tower… it is where the most dutiful seek knowledge, and studying these things may tell me what is happening." The Ash Witch is quiet only for a heartbeat before adding, "You could come with me, if you like."

Victor grunts at the idea, spreading his left arm across the back of the bed and looking down at his wife, "After the baby? Or before?" His lips press together at the question of him joining her, "We're finally gonna get to hit the Hosties back comin' up here. I can't just be sittin' in some Valen tower when the Drakes really go to war, Dee." Despite his words, there's a bit of a plaintive note in his voice.

Devon buries her disappointment beneath a slight smile. "Then you should be out there." She squeezes his hand gently before she focuses on rubbing at her belly, trying to quiet the stirring unborn child within who seems to be content on tossing and turning in the warm womb. "Promise that you will check in every day?"

Victor leans forward to half-turn on his side, putting his right hand on her stomach and rubbing gently over the taut skin there. "As often as I can. Every couple of days at least." Shifting a little bit as if suddenly uncomfortable, he puts a smirk on his lips, "You want me to comm you on the nights when I can't make it out there?" He shifts again, doing his best to cover the real worry behind the question.

"Everyday," Devon says in turn. "I would prefer twice a day." There is a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Then, she tilts her head a bit, those pale eyes searching his expression for a long moment. "Victor… what is it?"

Victor shrugs his shoulders, still gently massaging her abdomen, "Can't a guy worry about his wife?" He's quiet for a long moment, then shakes his head, "Don't like not bein' here for you." Shifting his bracing arm, he rests his head on his palm, "But I'm a knight. If I ain't out there, I ain't doin' my job. But some part of me thinks that if I ain't there for you when you need it, I ain't doin' my job either."

Pink warmth spreads across her cheeks, and Devon touches the back of his hand gently. "I have complicated your life, Victor Khournas… you're no longer just a Knight, but a husband, and soon to be a father." She then leans forward despite the ever-expanding belly between them. Ever so softly, she presses her lips to his.

Victor's shoulders tighten up a little more, for all he smirks a touch, "Too fuckin' right you have." There's not a ton of complaint there, for all his grimace, and he returns the kiss readily. Straightening up again on his elbow, he adds, "You didn't get shit for sleep, didja? I'll stay here, make sure you don't feel the need for another stroll. I napped in the crawler." BS.

"If you curl up with me, I will sleep easier," Devon prompts him gently as she sinks further down into her pillows. Perhaps this is also her way to convincing him that sleeping will not be a terrible idea, even if he did get some rest in the crawler (ahem). She draws the blankets up to her chin, looking like a chubby catepillar.

Victor laughs a little, "Yeah, yeah." He straightens up a bit, stretching, "I should see to my armor." He's not doing that, though. Instead, he just sits up, then reaches back to catch the seal at the back of his armor, pulling it down so that he can strip out of his underarmor and kick it aside, "Gimme some covers."

The Khourni wife dutifully relinquishes the blankets at his request, scooting over just a bit so he can squeeze onto the bed with her. She is quiet for a long moment, and then lifts her gaze to his. There is something in that gaze, but it goes unsaid as she twists a bit so he can curl in behind her.

Victor leaves the underarmor on the floor like a second skin, slipping in behind the baby-expanded form of of his still-new wife. "I'm not gonna let you walk off anywhere, Dee." One heavy arm worms its way under her neck, curling up to form a headrest for her, "If that's what you're worried 'bout. I'll wake up, at least a little."

Devon breathes out a deep, sinking exhale as she rests her head into his arm. She closes her eyes slowly, nodding as she finds comfort in that embrace. "Okay," she murmurs into the pillow of his bicep.

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