How can it be true we’re a part of everything no matter what the ancient mendicant did say I inquire introspectively how might we ever hope to touch this oneness when we can’t even seem to find ourselves in the eternity of an early December Saturday
Melony writes YOI fic, part II. This one is a Victor character study. Excuse me while I get to know these characters before I jump into Victuuri hell. Note: I used Yura instead of Yuri(o) in Victor’s internal monologue because I read somewhere that that’s a more accurate shortening of his name. (Next up: I’m thinking skating injuries/callouses, thanks)
For all that Hasetsu was completely foreign to Victor, it was almost a relief to be there.
Never mind the Japanese assaulting his ears, the illegible signs, the culture that should be shocking him. The food was fantastic, the alcohol potent, and the hot springs—well, Victor was taking full advantage of that.
Despite all the differences, he didn’t feel all that homesick. Makkachin was there, and Hasetsu Ice Castle was close, and really, if he were to describe what home was to him, the things at the forefront of his mind were his poodle and a sheet of ice to skate on. It wasn’t as busy as his home rink, and sometimes he missed the company, but it was peaceful.
The grass swayed in the wind
Like drunken patrons of now empty bars
Finding their way home.
He felt the moist soil
As it conformed to his every footstep
Clinging, like society does to the trends he wanted so desperately to avoid.
The trees remained stoic
As he attempts to do
When things in his life don’t go according to plan.
And the sun retreated into the darkness of the night,
As if the star was running from it’s problems,
Just like he was.
That connection he felt
With the grass, soil and sun
Taught him of neglected beauty
And how the things we look past everyday
Are astonishing treasures waiting to be plucked from the realm of triviality
By the blessed eyes of meticulous onlookers.