In Search of Home

Chapter 41

It did not go by quickly.

Viktor was bored out of his mind. It was about the same level of boredom he'd often find himself during mandatory school pep rallies. He, who had never much been into sports aside from supporting his friends who were, seemed to always suffer the most during rallies. The always too-hot, too-crowded gymnasium of his high school was a specially designed sort of hell for him.

At least, with his old high school, there was some level of excitement that got his blood thrumming. It was only when his principal or some other teacher or adult got up on the podium to talk did his brain shut off and fill up with maddening levels of boring.

This, though, this meeting was... horrifically underwhelming.

He was sure it was invigorating to those who actually knew the language. Oftentimes, as the meeting progressed, some aliens got loud (at least, louder than normal. Viktor didn't think anyone would quite be able to compete for Thruul's level of loudness. That alien was on an entirely different level) and animated, gesticulating wildly before calming down.

But Viktor didn't speak the language, and he was just as lost as he would be if someone explained rocket science to him.

The floor, while being as comfortable as a floor could get, got boring after the first ten minutes. The carpet wasn't anything special, simply brown in color. If it had been tiled, he could've traced some designs with his finger for a while. He tried to fiddle with some of the bands on Vok'Rul's tail, but the alien had twitched, giving him a look. Viktor lifted his hands in surrender.

Rukka suddenly stood, grabbing a sheaf of papers off of Vok'Rul's area. The alien didn't look upset, nor did any of the others when Viktor glanced over at them (though, Viktor could only see about two from his place on the floor. He wondered if he could steal a chair or something), so it must have been a normal occurrence.

Rukka started talking, and she didn't stop. Viktor watched her, eyes a bit wide. It was the most he had ever heard coming from her. With Vok'Rul, she was mostly gruff, her attitude being one of take no shit. But now, she was animated, expressing what she felt with her eyes, her tone.

He noticed that the aliens didn't smile too much to each other. Vok'Rul smiled frequently at Viktor, and he had to wonder if it wasn't because of his trying to mimic human behavior. The only smiles Viktor could remember Vok'Rul offering to other aliens were tight-lipped, barely pleasant ones.

Now, though, Viktor could see that Rukka's mouth was stretched over her teeth in what could be called a smile, in the barest definition of the word. She seemed passionate about whatever subject she was speaking about. The alien started passing out papers, even handing one to Vok'Rul, who had apparently seen it before. Viktor delightedly took the paper when it was offered to him, despite not being able to read it. There were pictures on it, though, and he realized with a jolt that they were of him.

Pictures he hadn't even known had been taken, which was uncomfortable for him to admit. Yes, Viktor was relaxing, slowly but surely, within the confines of the mansion, but outside of that... he always tried to be on the lookout. It was ingrained into him from months of fighting in the arena.

There were, he realized with a slow dawning sort of horror, pictures of him in the arena. There were blurry pictures of him, sleeping, eating, and fighting. Some were taken through what seemed to be a surveillance system, and Viktor kicked himself for not realizing there had even been one. The other pictures, or more specifically, the ones that showed him fighting, were taken by someone in the stands. His stomach flipped as he laid eyes on the arena, something he had never thought he would see again.

Horrifyingly, there were pictures of almost all of the injuries he had sustained during his stay. Bite marks, scratches, bruises... even the ringmaster's beatings, they were all documented, oftentimes with a pair of clawed hands reaching out to him.