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Unlike the socially savvy Cassian, Victrio is the last to leave the gathering the night before -- he's damn well going to finish the wine, at least, and have a muttered, if one-way, conversation with his deceased mother, behind the curtain's sanctity.
It's a rehearsal for the conversation he has with his sister when he gets home.
"--away for how long?!!"
"Oh gods I knew you'd react like this." Victrio flops onto the velvet upholstered lounge that is one of the few pieces of furniture they brought with them from The Before Times. The velvet is heavily worn in places, and there's a decade-old wine stain one one arm; they hadn't been able to get a pawnshop to offer them much for the piece, so Father had said they might as well keep it. Now, Victrio sprawls upon it, one arm thrown over his face.
"It's not an unreasonable reaction! Cassomir is a good ways away- what if something happens?"
"Indeed, what if," Victrio says wearily, arm not moving. "I shall stay the rest of my life in Oppara, in case 'something happens.' What an excellent way to live."
Sullia makes an annoyed noise. "You know what the hell I mean. Something-- something with you. Your... you know. What if the... visions get to be too much, or... or you can't..."
"Cope?" Victrio says, with a bit of venom. "What if I can't cope? That's what you mean, yes? Be honest, dear sister."
Sullia exhales; he can hear it, the short and forceful breath she often uses when she is trying not to smack him upside the head. "Fine. Yes, that IS what I mean. What if you can't f@#$ing cope, Victrio? If you have a breakdown, a hundred or more miles away from us? Will these people get you safely back here? Have you told them it's a possibility?"
He moves his arm at last, stares up at the ceiling. "It's not a possibility. I'm not a child, damn you, and I don't need minders. Nor am I going to spend the rest of my life no more than a mile away from you 'just in case'."
Sully's silence is the dangerous sort. She's trying to hold on to her temper as much as he is. They're really much more alike to each other in some ways than they are different, he thinks. In some ways.
"I know you're concerned," he says at last. "I know this is-- this is well meant. But, Sul... I can't live life afraid to go outside the city walls for fear of what might happen. That isn't a life. You know that. You told me once you thought our home felt like a cage with nice decorations. Well... this feels like a tether. Can you understand that, for me?"
Sullia sighs and comes closer, interrupts his view of the stained ceiling overhead. She frowns down at him with a face rather like his own, just flipped to the opposite gender. Rather like Mother's too. Big dark eyes, a strong nose, the sort of mouth that is called sensitive.
"Just... wish I could go with you."
"Well, as you're always fond of reminding me, you're the only one of us with a steady job. Father needs you here. And I will be alright."
"You'd better be. If you get yourself killed, I'll come and kick your ass. Right. Let's get you packed."
***
This, Victrio thinks, is.... too gods-damned early. Too early for being awake, let alone standing in the chill air of the docks, stamping his feet and shivering as he tries to stay warm against the cold morning that "early departure" signifies. His belongings are slung over his shoulder in a simple rucksack, depressingly light, and he's... getting ready to go on a journey. A real journey.
Anxiety and excitement beat a mingled tattoo along his veins. It's impossible not to think of all the heroes he's read about, setting out on their voyages. It's also impossible not to think somewhat longingly of his warm bed back at home. Warm, and safe. No wild animals known to hang out there.
But in for a copper, in for a crown....
With the boat located, he starts for it, only to see Neriros looking cautiously about.
"Yes I think this is the one!" he blurts to the other man in lieu of a proper greeting. "Ah - after you?"
The passage that Victrio makes up the gangplank is less than graceful, as he has to clutch at the rope railing several times. Perhaps it was some presentiment of that that made him want the Abadaran to ascend first.
Once on deck, he flashes Dominerd a strained smile. "I was thinking during the, ah, briefing, that we have a lot of educational areas in, ah, common, no? Histories and documents. No doubt we'll have a lot to talk about."
Privately, Victrio thinks, it's going to be a contest. And just like at school, he'll have to show he's smart enough. Smarter, really. It's the only way to get respect, however grudging. Neriros is not just a colleague; he's the competition.
Livia and Cassian get somewhat distracted nods of morning-greeting, because Victrio is gazing at Neriros in a somewhat focused way.