Across from him, in the pit of sand that seemed to hold onto his feet so tightly he struggled with every step, Oorah was circling an unmoving lump. It was splayed out grotesquely, unappealing and disgusting. Had Viktor not been starving, his stomach nearly ready to consume itself in its haste to get something, he would have wrinkled his nose and gagged. But he was starving, and the human wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into whatever was lying atop the sand.

But Oorah was there, gnashing its teeth and cracking its whip-like tail in a loud and threatening matter. It didn't scare Viktor like it used to, all skin and bones with no fighting experience under his belt. He was used to these displays of aggression. The humans' displays were loud and frightening as well, but when faced with food or no food, and no other choice in between, everyone in this arena did what they had to do.

Curiously, though, despite Oorah's strategic position over the food, which Viktor still couldn't get a good look at, the idiotic beast didn't bite and tear into it. It simply watched Viktor with its beady eyes, and if Viktor didn't know any better, he could swear that the beast was just taunting him for it. The crowd that surrounded him, though he could not see it, roared and stomped, quickly becoming background noise to be ignored.

Viktor did not waste any time.

He threw himself forward with all the might he could muster, and even though the sand under his feet tried to sluggishly slow him down, he managed to leap on top of Oorah with ease. He wrapped his arms around the beast's neck and with alarming simplicity, twisted it sideways with a quick lurch of his arms. He scrambled off the beast as it crumbled to the ground. Victorious, Viktor grinned toothily, eyes glinting ferally.

He stepped over his enemy and towards his prize, turning it over with practiced ease. Mouth watering, Viktor opened his mouth, eager to sink his teeth into food for the first time in a while.

Vok'Rul's blank eyes stared up at him, lifeless. Viktor dropped his head back onto the sand, hunger forgotten, and screamed. He couldn't tell where his screams ended and the crowd's began.

It was his screaming that woke him up. Confused and panicked, Viktor launched himself out of the comfortable bed, flinging back his blanket in his hurry to get upright. He didn't account for the blanket curling around his feet like a pesky cat and tripping him. He definitely didn't account for the closet door being shut. Unfortunately for him, both things happened without his consent, and he slammed into the hard slats of the closet door. The impact flung him backward and back onto the floor, cushioned only by the soft bed underneath him.

It brought him out of his panic, though. Viktor breathed harshly, a bit bewildered. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand, groaning loudly. God, what the fuck was that?

Sure, he's had nightmares before. They definitely increased during and after his time at the arena, but his nightmares have always been extremely straightforward. Fighting in the arena, being unable to move, getting eaten, that sort of thing. Never before has anyone or anything he's... fond of being a part of those dreams.

Deciding wholeheartedly to just... not think about it, Viktor clambered out of the closet, complete with no faceplants to the door this time. He felt a bit better after the impromptu nap, though he hadn't necessarily felt tired enough to need one. He wasn't asleep for long. The sun was high in the sky still, shining into the office with fragile rays.

He ate most of the jerky in his bowl this time around. knowing Vok'Rul, he was more than likely going to stay out the whole day, doing whatever it was... Vok'Rul did. He honestly wasn't sure what the alien did.

He tried not to think about Lilac's sudden visit, nor the fact that it seemed she was under probation of some kind, but the thoughts trickled in against his will. Maybe she hadn't been too deep into the crimes that the ringmaster committed. Maybe she had been the one to rat them all out, considering the looks she had given those undercover cops on their last day there. If she was on probation, did that mean the ringmaster was too? Was there any kind of alien prison on this planet?

No, Viktor shoved some more jerky into his mouth, chewing loudly to mask his thoughts. Not thinking about it.

He absentmindedly dipped his hand into his water bowl, staring intently at one of the colorful blocks littered about the floor, very determined not to think. His hand scraped the bottom of the bowl, only the slightest bits of water clinging to his fingertips. He looked over at it in surprise. "Huh," he said aloud. The water bowl had never been empty, neither here nor in the arena. He had seriously started to wonder if there were some magical bowls on this planet that refilled whenever the water ran low.

Viktor squinted suspiciously at the bowl, seriously wondering if it would do just that. After a while though, he grew bored and gave up. Hopping up onto his feet, he grabbed the bowl and just decided to refill it himself. It would give him something to do, at the very least.

The trip to the bathroom was short, but when inside, Viktor was faced with a problem. He couldn't reach the sink.

"Damn," he muttered, staring up at it. He eyed the drawers on the sink a bit distrustfully. Carrying the bowl while climbing wouldn't be that big of a deal, but with his broken arm, it made everything ten times trickier. Maybe the sink downstairs would be easier.

He had the brilliant idea of tossing the dish down the stairs to save himself some time. It was metallic, so it wouldn't break on impact. It would be a stress reliever. Convinced, Viktor leaned between the railings and dropped the dish without any more preamble. After a long moment of silence, the dish made a horrendously loud bang as it connected to the floor. Cheered up from the morning's events and his subsequent nightmare by the simple act of chucking a damn bowl down the stairs, Viktor quickly made his descent.

He found the dish all the way over by the dining room. Impressed, he quickly picked it up and put it on the seat of the closest chair. The chair made terrible scraping noises when he pushed it to the kitchen. Viktor was glad when he finally managed to push it to the sink and the affront to his ears could stop.

The sink. It was large. He hadn't been able to get a good look at it before, despite his numerous trips to the kitchen. He honestly should have been smarter. If he had been, Viktor wouldn't have been so gobsmacked by how this thing looked. The controls were alien! Pun very much intended! He felt like he was trying to operate a spaceship.

There were literally no knobs. There was nothing that Viktor could turn to make the water start running. After about five minutes of teetering dangerously on the chair, bowl clutched under his cast, and uselessly smacking the shit out of the weird, super bendy faucet, Viktor gave up.

"Guess I'll die of thirst," he spat at the sink, glaring balefully at it. It didn't respond. "I'm talking to a sink. I'm going crazy."

He hopped down from the chair, grateful to be on his own two feet on some solid ground. He walked around the wing aimlessly, tapping the bottom of the bowl rhythmically. All he could think of was his thirst. Vok'Rul probably hadn't meant to leave his dish so empty, considering his food bowl had been pretty full.

Regardless of the alien's intentions, his dish was void of water and he wasn't coming back anytime soon, so that left Viktor on his own. Humming in thought, Viktor decided that the only way he was going to get water in this place was to approach one of the servants or maybe even go into the kitchens. That cook, though. It made Viktor's stomach churn. The cook looked so like the ringmaster it was eerie. But he wasn't the ringmaster. And obviously, the cook was used to hanging around Vok'Rul, considering he had been here the day he had been taken here and the morning after. He tried not to feel guilty that he was essentially driving away some of Vok'Rul's friends.

Kitchens it was. He was determined to get over this stupid little fear he had over someone's face. He was free of the ringmaster. The evil bastard couldn't hurt him here. He thought of Lilac, and the very real possibility of the ringmaster facing the same probation.

White-knuckled, Viktor marched out of the wing with his dish in hand. He had a vague memory of seeing the kitchens on his first exploratory mission out of Vok'Rul's wing, but right after, he had been thrown outside and suffered hypothermia for a while. Plus, his arm got broken. Needless to say, he didn't remember the route to the kitchens very well. But after wandering the first floor of the mansion, he finally stumbled upon it.

He had passed a few servants that were cleaning up the mansion and generally keeping the place well-organized. They must have been instructed not to touch him because while they all watched him (creepy) and cooed at him (very creepy), they never reached out to pat his head or anything else equally ridiculous.

Viktor was glad; he'd have probably thrown the dish at them if any had tried. He only sort of tolerated Vok'Rul touching him, and it was a very fragile sort of.

The kitchens were much livelier than the first time he peeked in. It was near midday, though, so he supposed that making lunch was a busier affair than a quiet breakfast. It brought up the question of who they were making food for. Was it for themselves? It wasn't his business, he supposed, he was just there to get some water.

He stood in the doorway of the kitchens, a bit overwhelmed with all the activity. He could feel the heat from the ovens all the way over here. Everything in the kitchen was giant, which didn't help with his sudden vertigo. Viktor watched as aliens shouted orders to one another, and even though the noise reminded him of the arena, it reminded him of the school cafeteria even more.

He stiffened unconsciously as one of the cooks spotted him in the doorway. The alien peered at him for a moment, arms full of large pots that were nearly overflowing with foodstuffs. He was a dull maroon, much shorter than Vok'Rul, and large. He looked shrewdly at Viktor, and the human couldn't help but grow defensive. He squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes, shifting on his feet in order to make a quick retreat if needed, water be damned.

It didn't come to that though, as the alien shouted for something and then walked away, giving Viktor one last curious, if a bit annoyed, glance. Viktor was a bit affronted, honestly. It wasn't as if he were doing anything.

Just as he was toying with the idea of going into the kitchens to find the one cook Vok'Rul always hung around with, he appeared in front of Viktor. He had to swallow some of the revulsion and fear curling in the back of his throat when he looked at the alien. He was much the same as the last time he had seen him in Vok'Rul's kitchen. The typical shade of maroon the aliens seemed to come in, sleeves pushed past the elbow, definitely no scar sprawled across his face in an angry line. He had a curious look on his face. The alien crouched down to look Viktor in the face, carefully out of arm's reach. Viktor took a few steps back just in case.

The alien said something, but the only word he caught was his name. Viktor cleared his throat, fingers white-knuckled around the dish. He thrust the dish out from his chest, loudly saying, "Norish?" in an attempt to be heard over the loud clattering and talking coming from the kitchen. The alien -Thruul, Viktor remembered Vok'Rul calling him that in the kitchen, once - seemed confused for a moment before he exclaimed wordlessly.

Thruul suddenly reached forward, and Viktor, startled by the arm coming for him, dropped the dish and scrambled backward in a hurry. He glared at the cook when the other stopped guilty, offering him a sharp smile. Viktor eyed him a bit uncomfortably, starting to regret his decision to come here. The alien didn't reach any further though, only picking up the dish and straightening up. And then he turned around and walked away.

What the fuck! That was his dish!

"Hey!" Viktor squawked, affronted. He ran after the alien. It was a bit of a struggle. He dodged and weaved through the other aliens, keeping the large alien in his sight. It wasn't too hard, considering most of the aliens in the kitchen got out of his way. They gave Viktor looks that he wasn't too interested in interpreting. "You can't just take my damn bowl!"

He followed Thruul through the kitchen, where they eventually entered some sort of pantry. It looked bigger than his entire apartment. As soon as he stepped in, there was an obvious chill in the air. Viktor shivered, wrapping his arms around himself as he looked around the pantry.

Slabs of meat were dangling from any free bit of ceiling available. There were shelves lining the walls that carried smaller bits of meat, stacked high enough to almost topple over. Viktor blinked at it all owlishly. Why did they have all this meat? Were they running a butcher shop on the side?

He watched as Thruul wormed his way around the hanging meat (Viktor was lucky enough to be too short for it to reach him, so he just walked right under it all) and crouched down in front of some of the shelving in the back of the room. The meat there was small and light. Viktor squinted at it. It looked sort of like a bird. Thruul reached over and grabbed it, dropping it into the bowl.

Viktor leveled the alien with the most unimpressed look when he turned around. Thruul jumped, surprised at his presence. "Kohgrash, norish," he dragged the syllables out after he had gotten over the slight shock, setting the bowl on the ground and stepping away. He looked pretty proud of himself. Viktor crossed his arms, staring at the bowl. Now his water was going to taste like chicken, probably forever.

"Water," he said, pointing at the dish. "Wah-terrr," he dragged the syllables out. "Plus, even if I wanted food, you seriously were gonna give me a whole bird? This thing is like, the size of a turkey!"

Thruul blinked, smiling at him. He gestured again to the bowl, and Viktor felt a headache start developing. Damn language barrier. He walked over to the dish and grabbed the carcass with some difficulty. It was heavy, and he only had one working arm, okay? He waddled over to the shelf - thankfully it was low enough for him to reach - and dropped the turkey back in its spot. Thruul was making some noises of protest, but Viktor ignored him. He grabbed his dish and mimed drinking from it a couple of times. "Water!"

Thruul let out a noise of realization, saying what sounded like awkma! Viktor had no idea what that meant, but he hoped it meant water. He was seriously thirsty.

"Thruul!" someone shouted outside the pantry. Thruul shouted something back, loud and booming. It made Viktor wince and shrink in on himself. When he realized what he was doing, he cleared his throat and straightened up. Thruul gave him an odd look, confusion mixed with pity, which he hadn't seen on the faces of these aliens before. "Pora, Kohgrash?" Thruul asked, making the same gesture the ringmaster and Vok'Rul used when they wanted him to come closer.

Viktor had to close his eyes against the wave of revulsion, trying and failing to not think about the ringmaster. He stood rooted to the spot for a moment, holding onto the bowl like a lifeline. Thruul said his name again, and Viktor opened his eyes. He avoided looking at Thruul's face, but he reluctantly obeyed the word and gesture, stepping closer to the alien. It wasn't the ringmaster.

After a beat, the alien turned and walked out of the pantry. Viktor followed at a sedated pace, only looking up when the alien's back was turned. He shook himself, trying to get the ringmaster out of his head. He was free now, sort of. At least here, he didn't have to fight for his right to survive. Vok'Rul seemed perfectly content to keep him as a companion.

Viktor followed Thruul over to a sink, craning his head back in order to watch the alien fill up his bowl with water. He had no idea how he turned on the sink. Hopefully, he'd never run out of water again. He wasn't sure if he liked it too much down here. It was so loud.

"Mor ta lyr, Kohgrash," Thruul said, reaching down to hand him the bowl. It was sloshing with water, nearly overflowing and landing on the floor. "Ne corfa!"

"Uh huh, you too, buddy," Viktor responded, eagerly grabbing the bowl from the alien's large hands while watching him carefully. He may have snatched it back too quickly because the water oscillated forward before spilling on the front of his sweater and onto the floor. "Oops."

It wasn't a lot of water; certainly not enough to make anyone slip and fall. Viktor looked up warily at the alien, expecting to see the familiar twist of irritation and anger written all over the ringmaster look-a-like's face. Thruul, though, had a friendly smile on his face.

It was so unlike the ringmaster, who he had never seen smile genuinely at all, that Viktor merely stared for a moment. Thruul said something calmly before he crouched and wiped at the floor with a rag he pulled from his belt. Viktor managed to suppress the reflexive flinch that happened every time he saw someone reach for their belt.

"Sorry," he offered, standing there a bit awkwardly. He sipped at the water, relishing in the cool liquid going down his throat. He emptied half the bowl before Thruul straightened up, putting his hands on his hips and peering down at him. Viktor squinted at him, gaze flickering back and forth from his hands to his face.

"Thruul!" another shout from across the kitchen made Viktor jump. Thruul's face scrunched up with annoyance, but he shouted something back, gesturing for Viktor to follow him. Obligingly, the teen trailed after, carefully holding the bowl so he didn't spill any water. Thruul led him out of the kitchen, and Viktor got the idea.

Rolling his eyes, he offered a little wave. "Thanks for the awkma!" he shouted after Thruul, who had already retreated back into the kitchen. "Orrr not."

He carefully watched the dish in his hands as he picked his way back to Vok'Rul's wing, making sure that none of the water spilled out of the bowl. It was about halfway back to the wing that he noticed some chattering coming from up the stairs in the entranceway. He looked towards it in curiosity. Looking around, the entranceway had more bodyguards than usual, posted at the entrance and some of the windows. Some of them were looking at him and when he met their eyes, even fewer offered smiles, while others looked away.

Humming, Viktor looked from his bowl to the stairs a couple of times. Mind made up, he hurriedly went back to the wing, placing the bowl just inside the doorway. He wanted to know what was going on upstairs. It sounded like there were quite a few aliens up there, and he wondered if Vok'Rul had come back.

This set of stairs was easier to climb considering they didn't wrap around in a tight spiral. One of the bodyguards called after him, but Viktor ignored him, determined to see what was going on. Viktor was up on the second floor in the blink of an eye. It mirrored the first floor with two hallways branching off on either side with a large room in the center.

And it was filled with aliens. Much bigger than the crowds at the arena, but they were much quieter. The rumbling of chatter was the lowest he'd ever heard from a crowd as big as this. There were aliens of all different shades. Maroon, dull and vibrant. Purple, lavender, lilac. He swore he even saw an orange one. Most were dressed in loose, flowing clothing, decorated with various pieces of jewelry. None of them had as much jewelry as Vok'Rul usually put on, but it was a near thing.

There were some servants he recognized as being a part of the mansion's staff, but there were others he'd never seen before. They were carrying large platters of various food and drink. No wonder the kitchens had been so busy.

Viktor felt a bit underdressed in his navy sweater, damp with spilled water, and loose, comfortable pants. He didn't even have shoes on, for Christ's sake. Before he could retreat from this high-end party, one of the well-dressed aliens noticed him lingering on the stairs. It shouted in glee, pointing at him. Viktor raised his eyebrows in surprise. He quickly grew defensive, hunching his shoulders as almost every alien nearby turned to look at him.

Well, Viktor thought, gaze flitting back and forth between the sea of towering aliens. It seemed like he was going to a party, after all.

***

Vocaublary:

awkma: water

mor ta lyr: here you go

ne corfa: be careful

norish: food