etrayalogs | [OPEN] being an uncle means making more friends

Viktor despised asking for anything, especially from those whose motives he didn't trust, but he remembered the look in Daenerys' eyes when she had told him about her sons, the dragons she hatched and raised and he asked. He could say that it was simply to avoid accumulating these IOUs, or that he had asked for the only thing he wanted and therefore had no use for them anymore, but Daenerys, for reasons Viktor still doesn't fully understand, had been one of the few people who ever gave without asking for anything in return, and who helped him because she wanted to and not for favors or requests for work.

All of Viktor's relationships had always been transactional, a blueprint in exchange for sponsorship, work for materials, good behavior for the right to exist, and he had gotten used to that being the way of the world. He is not naive enough to believe that doesn't remain the case, but he has more reason to believe that there are exceptions to that rule that he never acknowledged to exist.

So he had asked, and once that request had been granted, Viktor walked into the main rooms of the lab-turned-warehouse with Drogon sitting cradled in the rigid curve of his metal arms, to show her.

"I appear to have another guest in my lab," he comments, taking absolutely no credit for the reason the dragon is here in the first place.

It's, admittedly, an odd sight, a masked, metal man walking through the streets with a small dragon perched on his shoulder, but Viktor is running his usual errands and he had promised to look after him. It also is giving Viktor the chance to test the resilience of the new treatment he'd developed for the chemtech metal of his limbs and armor. The dragon's claws are digging small grooves into his plating, but they haven't torn through the metal which is a marked improvement.

Viktor is being slightly more careful about keeping space between himself and anyone who might be passing nearby considering that he can't control Drogon, only ask him to attempt to behave and waiting to see if the dragon will decide to listen.

The likelihood of Viktor apologizing for anyone being singed, however, is close to zero.

"He does not bite," Viktor says flatly upon seeing someone in the periphery. Making a noise, he adds, "He might actually. Do not get too close."

Viktor is standing, his arms crossed, and watching Drogon lift up off the ground and then drop dramatically, huffing and blowing smoke at some small creature hopping frantically away from the two of them. Though he was the one who offered to take the dragon out so that he could hunt for something to eat, the longer Viktor stands here watching, the less he believes the little thing actually knows how, or he's just attempting to bide his time and see if Viktor will do it for him.

"We will be here all day if you do not start trying," he comments, one eyebrow arching as his eyes slide over to fix on the dragon. For once, his mask is tucked away in his bag and the sun on his face feels strange but not entirely unpleasant. What is unpleasant is the ache in his spine from standing still, the refitting taking longer than usual to settle into place, a product of his rushed timeline.

The hexclaw hums as it charges and Viktor purposefully aims just a little too far to the left, singing the grass but missing the fleeing animal by a few inches. "Your turn."

That's a strange looking lizard. Maelle doesn't mean to stare--at the little dragon or its perch--but she is, eyes going wider when she's caught.

"Oh," she sounds, embarrassed. "... but he won't bite you?"

Viktor's head turns and his eyes lower, tracking the sound of the voice. Comically, the dragon perched on his shoulder does the same, punctuated by a high pitched squeak of a sound Viktor assumes was meant to be a roar.

"He does but there is no skin for him to break. I do not believe the same is true for you."

Yeah, she's noticed. Maelle doesn't move closer, but she does take a better look at the... person?

"What are you?"

Maelle, you can't just ask people(?) what they are.

"And if he's going to try and eat me, you should feed him better."

The reaction or the question are far from foreign, but the direct nature of the latter is amusing. Far from offended, he respects the honesty.

"A machine," Viktor answers, modulated voice hanging in the air. "Do you always ask questions so frankly? More should."

Moving his shoulder to jostle the dragon sitting on his shoulder, he doesn't react when Drogon playfully nips at the joint of his mask.

"It is my understanding that it is his attempt to play. Regardless, he needs to hunt for himself, or so I have been told."

It's been surprisingly easy making herself comfortable in Viktor's castle (and yes, she refuses to call it anything else). He was kind enough to set aside space for her — even maintaining it in her absence — and while Daenerys isn't surprised by his kindness, she's touched by it all the same. Viktor is far gentler than he allows himself to be, and she hopes, in some small effort to repay this gesture, she might push him to see and acknowledge that part of himself. Maybe, of course. Daenerys grew up with his counterpart, who rarely let himself be soft in a world full of sharp words and sharper spears.

So it's fitting, then, that Viserys is on her mind while she attempts to pour over a map of Etraya, pushing another pin into the paper spread out across one of Viktor's less used worktables. "Another guest," she echoes, amused. "Does this mean you're turning me out already?" But her sentence is cut off by a shrill, excited shriek that cuts through all her thoughts. Gasping, Daenerys glances up to find Drogon — a much smaller version of her son — in Viktor's arms, looking as content as could be.

Rushing over to them, reaching for man and dragon both, Daenerys laughs, a noise that sounds half-pained, half-relieved. "How —" She blinks through tears, struggling to articulate what this means to her. That he did this isn't even a question. "Thank you," is all she can manage at the moment, choked and watery, rubbing under Drogon's chin and squeezing Viktor's arm in a vice-like grip.

"A machine," she repeats. "Like the bots?"

Maelle has a fondness for the companion bots that run the city shops and stores. She much rather talk to them than a person when ordering food or buying snacks. Less judgement for her bags of candies and colorful fruit drinks.

"It's sort of obvious you're different," Maelle says, explaining herself. "And it's not every day you see someone walking around with something like him."

Calling Emberflit a castle is going to take time. It took years for Viktor to even privately consider it home rather than a place to slink back to with broken limbs and the taste of defeat on his tongue. Slowly, he had amassed things, all with purpose, but things all the same. Viktor can breathe a little easier here, can step out of the literal and metaphorical armor he is always wrapped in and not need to make excuses or fight for the space he takes up. Sharing this space was never something he considered, too protective of it and what it had started to mean to him. Viktor told himself it was wrapped up in his desire not to have any more of his work stolen and he kept visitors to the few rooms he left open, and he would have laughed at the idea of not only sharing this space but inviting someone to stay.

Viktor doesn't have the time to tease her in return, Drogon cutting both of them off with the squeak of a roar he lets out, tail flicking and striking the steel of his arm. Talons dig slightly into the metal but Viktor doesn't catalogue the damage like he might have with anything else and if he were honest, he would admit to feeling something very much not the annoyance he should be. There were only a handful of emotions Viktor ever allowed himself to experience, still dulled by the inhibitors until they were like vague scratchings on the inside of his skull. The inhibitors have been... slightly adjusted of late, but even that was overwhelming and he does his best to manage it.

He's never understood sympathetic reactions until today however.

It takes a concerted effort to not reflect Daenerys' feelings back and he doesn't remember ever knowing what it was like to feel that and as strange as it is, and overstimulating, it isn't such a bad thing. That admission is buried for now though.

"It was hard not to notice him. He was making a lot of noise," Viktor answers, still side-stepping telling her that he had asked for him to be brought here, but his voice is gentler than it usually is. "You do not need to thank me."

"Similar. I created myself however. I do not believe they did."

Viktor has a similar predisposition, preferring to deal with the companion bots more than the people here. People were complicated, messy, and difficult to deal with and his experiences with them in general comes to the conclusion that they are not worth the effort.

"It is," he confirms. Viktor is well aware he is singular and that is by design. "I take it augmentations are not common where you are from then. They are where I grew up. He is new. To me at least, I knew they existed but I have never interacted with one before."

Holding his arm up, the dragon claws his way down to sit on his forearm. "His name is Drogon."

"What? You created yourself? How is that even possible?" She doubts she could understand even if it were explained to her. Still, she brightens, curious. Her day just got much more exciting.

(Run, Viktor.)

"So he's Drogon. Do you have a name? What do I call you?"

He's a little more interesting than the tiny dragon.

The small dragon is interesting to Kirk but he's studied enough wild animals to know not to get too close unless he's sure. Viktor's advice doesn't bother him.

"Picking up another project?" He simply asks.

"With a screwdriver and the occasional laser when it was needed." It's a little reductive, but Viktor doesn't think going into great detail would be worth it.

Viktor would disagree because the tiny dragon is fascinating, but he has lived in this mechanical body for nearly a decade and it's entirely mundane to him. Drogon flicks his tail and puffs out some smoke, completely harmless but very dramatic.

"Viktor is my name." His only name, really. Teasing now, he asks, "Do you have one?"

Drogon tracks the other man, wings stretching slightly to attempt to make himself look larger. Rolling his shoulder to get the dragon's attention, Viktor holds up a chunk of something for Drogon to take and occupy himself with.

"Ironically, I am babysitting," Viktor replies. "It is going better than with my last charge. I am still preparing the invoice."

Kirk watches Drogon's wings and wonders how different they are from a bat's wings.

"Hopefully your current charge is more obedient," he says without missing a beat. "And hopefully nothing expensive broke."

[OPEN] being an uncle means making more friends

Daenerys Targaryen @erintys - Emberflit Alley

OTA - Harborport

OTA - Farway, between the trolley stop and the Junkyard

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