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The place? Lakeside Village, dark, damp, dreary. The water's reflection should be calming, but the dilapidated buildings and the abandoned pirate ship on the shore make it spooky, haunted, unnerving. A skeleton with no bones, or just the skeleton itself. Cold and hollow.
The hunter? Michiko, also known simply as Geisha by those that have trouble with names. Her nickname is The Red Butterfly, which is too beautiful of a comparison made for someone who doesn't fly, except to rise into the air when possessed by a different form—one that wears a mask and has nails as long as her hair and a voice that screeches for vengeance. In the village, though, she is quieter, calmer, and more thoughtful. Has she been here before?
The survivors? Well, there's Aesop. He's mostly quiet, but whenever he has something to say, his words scathe and burn. It's an entertaining sight in a fight, but not so much as in a match against a hunter, where communication is key. Luckily, he moves quick, so doppelgangers of the teammates are made in a second's notice. Okay, a few seconds notice, maybe almost a minute, but who's keeping count?
Patricia surely isn't. She's the practical sort, and does her best to distract Michiko from attacking the other teammates, those who are more suited to decoding, or those who are supposed to be working from the sidelines. She protects all of them, and keeps her most dangerous tools—her curses—close to her chest. She doesn't even scream when Michiko finds her the first time, phasing through a pile of crates and thick pine tree without so much as a warning.
That leaves the third survivor, Luca (he who is good at decoding), and the fourth survivor, Victor (he who is good at working from the sidelines). Normally, they wouldn't be working at the same cipher together, as Luca is suited to being on his own, and Victor is good at being in many places at once, with Wick the Post Dog equally as attentive and energetic.
The problem? Well, for starters, Luca and Victor are together, but instead of decoding the nearby cipher, they're huddled against one of the broken half-walls, paint chips and pieces of dry wall sticking to the backs of their shirts. Though it is cool and mild in the village, the mist in the air clings to them like a layer of sweat, and their faces feel wet, exposed. Though it's not like anyone could see their face, with how hidden they are from sight.
The actual problem? After Michiko found Patricia the first time, she spent a good two minutes chasing after her, to the point where Michiko gave up and changed targets. It just so happens that, at the time, Victor was nearby, and the sound of Wick barking (he sent a letter of tranquility to Luca, for decoding help, y'know) alerted her to their location.
Victor isn't a rookie anymore, and neither is Luca. They both have had time to be familiar with the different maps of the games, as well as the many different hunters alike. They have had even more time being locked into chairs, sent spiraling towards the heavens, spawning in an empty but full manor, all the things that came with being trapped in an endless cycle like theirs. So, in theory, they shouldn't be bothered by things like hunters phasing through walls, jumpscaring the poor survivors straight out of their skin.
Maybe it had been the mist, the forest, and the broken-down houses. Maybe it had been the fact that the only thing Victor wanted in his entire life was to receive a letter, and the only time it happened, the letter lead him to Oletus Manor, of all places. Maybe it was the fact that Victor played five games in a row, losing all of them except for one, in which he'd been tirelessly chased every match.
Whatever it was—whatever it is—sent Victor's heart aflame, mind racing for the right words to say, until he remembers that he can't say damn near anything.
He can only sob quietly, on the edge of breaking down completely, with no one but Luca around to comfort him.
It isn't inconvenient to Luca to have to soothe his worries. They're friends, of course, together with Andrew as all three of them were newcomers right after each other. It's only natural to feel a connection to people who have more in common with you—molecules in a higher concentration will naturally shift to a place of lower concentration, as the similarities and differences all bleed into each other, a perfected saturated solution.
No matter the analogy, Luca is more than happy to help. He doesn't expect it at first, because he receives the letter and thinks what a nice guy Victor is, really, before working even harder at deciphering. But Wick the Post Dog doesn't leave him, and Luca is worried for a moment. Where's Victor? Is he in trouble? Is Wick trying to tell him something—
"Mmf." A tired, tiny groan escapes from somewhere. When Luca turns around, he sees Victor on his knees (crawling? Did he crawl? Did just crawl his way over to me?), hands wrapped around his thin frame as if he'd fall apart otherwise. And the look of desperation in his eyes, the unfocused look of mania that makes the yellow of his hues look more electric than expected, is too familiar to ignore.
Luca has looked like that, himself, on more than one occasion. For what reason, he couldn't tell you, because it could be any reason. His lack of retention. His inability to feel close to people because of his lack of retention. His lack of retention. The way his hand shakes if he holds a pen for too long. His lack of retention. His eye. The bad or good eye, doesn't matter. His lack of retention. The way he feels numb sometimes. His lack of—
Oh, Victor. "Victor?" he asks quietly. And 'quiet' for Luca is a strange thing, since he is too loud (how many times have people complained that his heavy breathing gives him away to the hunters?) and too quiet (how many times have people complained that Luca spaces out too often and misses crucial details in the environment?) all at once. But he thinks he's being quiet right now, because Victor takes to his voice kindly, as if he is some sort of savior. "What happened?"
He doesn't write. With his inability to speak, Victor has fallen back on writing to communicate, but his hands shake too much to be useful. This, Luca understands, and doesn't press for more.
Instead, he finishes decoding the cipher in a one-two motion, and gently drags Victor off to the side, where the blinding lights are more tolerable in the shade of the broken walls and trees. He sits eye-level with him, ignoring the chilly touch of the damp earth below him, or the wispy winds blowing around them. Wick the Post Dog whines as he comes to a heel, and Luca sighs gently before speaking. "Is it—uh, the hunter, Miss Michiko?"
Victor nods.
"Did she say something to you?"
He doesn't respond. His eyes are too unfocused and his upper body begins to shake and slump over, to which Luca gently props upright, hands firm but also reaffirming on his shoulders.
He tries again. "Did she scare you?"
Victor's body tenses up. There it is.
Luca nods, and presses his forehead against Victor's shoulder, closing his own eyes. "It happens. It happened. You'll be fine. This doesn't last." He knows the words to say because once upon a time, Victor (and Andrew) had said the same thing to him, when he first got upended by a hunter's rude awakening (See, he retains some information!) some time ago. It happens to the best of us, really.
And Victor is one of the best, surely. He might be less than his best right now, but that doesn't devalue him as a friend or a person.
As if things have such value, to begin with.
He stays silent as ever, curled up, limbs scrunched into a knot as he finds comfort in Luca—clutching onto his shirt tightly, burying his face into its material and sobbing quietly, shaking so much that Luca's body starts shaking, too.
They remain like that, hushed and somber, until Luca gives in and wraps his arms fully around Victor, embracing him as tightly as possible (without hurting him, of course). The pressure is soothing, actually—something firm and grounded to keep him there. Victor exhales deeply through his nose, tiny groans resounding from within. "Mmm."
"Wait," Luca mutters. "Listen."
So he listens.
There is nothing there.
He hopes the inquisitive look on his face can be seen, even if they are still in mid-hug.
Luca laughs: "That's your heart. Can you feel it?"
Victor listens again. Electricity, but not from the machine. Oh. A pulse inside of him, loud and strong, matching Luca's as their hearts tend to do. The rhythm is the same. The sound, strong. He closes his eyes and listens for more.
"And that's blood pumping through your veins. You know, Miss Dyer told me something recently about—" a pause, Luca forgets what he says mid-sentence sometimes, or he forgets what he meant to reference, and when he does that, the whole sentence gets lost, but this time, he seems determined to be the stable one in their relationship for once— "b-blood. About blood, and how it races, each artery and vein feeling for each other. Oh, I don't think it was that poetic—she's no poet, obviously—but do you know what I mean? It's okay to, uh, be scared. Because you have blood, and veins, and a heart that signifies the fear in you."
"Hmm..."
"You wouldn't be alive without it."
And I like you alive, goes unsaid.
Victor nods, tears pricking at the ends of his eyes. To that end, he agrees. I like you alive, too. I like you a lot.
Just hold me a little bit longer.
And he does.
The result? A draw. Luca signals to Aesop and Patricia that he's with Victor, and they can't do much decoding at the moment. Instead, he connects the ciphers from afar, and leaves them to it. They get done surprisingly quick (I wonder if Miss Michiko decided to be friendly after all?) and even manage to decode the exit gates without their help, one at each gate.
However, Michiko discovers Luca and Victor soon enough, probably because of Wick who had been snoring loudly after falling asleep earlier. She looks down at them, an unmistakable look of pity on her face. "We have to end this," she says. "Forgive me. You do surrender, I hope?"
"Yes," Luca mutters. "Apologies. Today hadn't—it wasn't—" going as expected just say going as expected— "um, you know."
Whether or not Michiko actually knows what happened between them is another matter entirely. She seems to understand that it's been a hard day for the two of them, though, and sympathy shines through in her dark eyes. "Yes. I admit, I am also...under the weather."
"...We're all under the weather, though? Because weather exists above us—"
"In the atmosphere," she cuts in. "Yes, you've told me that observation once before."
Luca looks embarrassed, and if it weren't for Victor there (Victor, who loves him, and needs him right now) he'd shrivel up completely. "Right, sorry. Uh, do be gentle with Victor. It's not the best day to be rough."
"I will not use force," she says. "You've already surrendered. We shall simply walk back to the manor together."
"Together?"
"Yes. I shall guide you. This is alright, I hope?"
"More than enough." Luca helps Victor to stand. He no longer trembles, but his steps are uneven, and Wick whines at his unsteady gait. Luca turns his gaze to the hunter before them. "Lead the way."
"Very well."
And so the scene now looks like this: Lakeside Village, the back half of it, where the trees are thick and near forested, the smell of ocean water drifting past them. They see the ghostly mast of the shipwreck, and cliffsides in the far distance where they can never hope to reach. Up ahead, they see the familiar sight of the gate, the two metallic doors yawning open for their exit. Michiko leads the survivors, her kimono, long and graceful (and red, true to her nickname, it is), flowing behind her. It's a comforting sight, seeing the cloth scrape over the ground effortlessly, almost as if floating above the surface.
Behind her are the survivors. Luca and Victor are walking side-by-side. At first, Victor needs Luca's help to walk, but he eventually steadies himself, and they fall back to holding hands, instead. Victor drags his heels (suddenly realizing they had a draw because of him), Wick jumps around excitedly behind him, and Luca keeps an even pace all the while. Normally, he'd result to bustling chatter or rambling about his latest project, but he senses that silence is the best conversation for now.
Even though it kills him to keep it all inside, seeing Victor's face—seeing a true smile on his pained face—is more than enough.
The problem was so many things that it couldn't just be one thing: Victor's nerves, Lakeside's foggy aura, Michiko's horrific ability to jumpscare anyone that isn't looking at her properly, the other survivors spread throughout the vast area, Wick's whines, the moon above them, to even something as insignificant as a headache Victor had from playing too many matches in a row.
The problem was complicated.
The answer? The answer was simple.
The answer was Luca, and Victor felt selfish in the realization that they surrendered because of Victor, but also because of Luca's conscious effort to be with him, instead of playing the game like most people would do. And if that were the case, maybe it wasn't so bad to throw in the towel now and again.
Maybe he'd learn that the heart in his chest was an affirmation of being alive, instead of an indicator of being almost-dead.
In which case, he'd listen, he'd learn, and the next time he'd fall into Luca's arms, it would be because he wanted to, not because he had to.
As thin and negligible of a difference, that is.