Notes: Ready for some sibling bonding? Let's goooooo
Katya was quick the leave the medical clinic on Friday. She barely gave Will a 'hello' or update before she was out the door and in the elevator. It wasn't unusual behavior for her per se. She picked up Viktor on Fridays, and she was always excited to bring him back home. Even if home was the polluted Sump. While she knew Piltover was the best place for his health, she cherished having him at her side.
However, a new anxiety also thrummed under Katya's skin as the elevator ascended the shaft. Tonight was the night the small group of Sons and Daughters were ambushing the freight due at the Southside docks on Piltover's side of the river. She was not part of it; she wasn't ready to volunteer that much. Katya had already brought a small armful of medical supplies to The Last Drop the night before. That was enough from her for now.
Vander had met her at the same basement walk-out she and Sevika had entered on Wednesday night and led her back to the storage room. A strange, uninvited pang of disappointment flashed through her when she realized it was only her and Vander. She didn't know what that was about, and she didn't dare investigate the feeling further. Together, she and the tall barman hid the medical supplies in some crates.
"Thank you for this," Vander had said, holding a roll of gauze with as much tender care as one would a baby.
"I'm sorry I was not able to bring more," she replied, carefully wrapping bottles of anti-septic in torn pieces of cloth before stashing them away.
"This is more than enough to start," assured Vander. "'S more than we ever had."
Katya's brow crumpled with sadness.
"Your clients should have access to complete and comprehensive medical care."
"I will figure out a way to get more as soon as I can."
The elevator breached the surface, meager streams of sunlight attempting to cut through the Undercity Grey.
'The Zaun Grey,' Katya reminded herself. 'Zaun.'
As quickly as she could with a hungry body that had just worked a fourteen-hour shift, she made her way to the Bridge. The attendant scrutinized her approval papers and Katya ignored their unnecessary rudeness. Her mind was too full of excitement and worry. She snapped the papers up as soon as the attendant began to slide them back underneath the partition and darted into Piltover.
The café district could not distract her from her various anxieties, not even with its sugary smells and glossy display cases.
Katya did have enough presence of mind to stop a few strides before Pilt Square to take a couple deep breaths, and attempted to set the worry about the Sons and Daughters aside. She needed to focus on her brother. She was eager to see Viktor.
Katya rolled her shoulders back and walked toward the fountain she had dropped him off at on Monday.
Viktor and Ivy sat together on the lip of the fountain's pool, his skinny legs dangling, her ankles primly crossed. At Viktor's side was his cane and his large canvas sack. Student and aide were pouring over papers in his lap. Upon hearing footsteps, they looked up and the brightest, most enthused smile appeared on Viktor's face. It did every week when Katya came to fetch him, and every time she felt her heart clench and stomach ripple with warmth, like a ribbon of honey falling into hot tea.
Viktor clumsily hopped to his feet, swiping his cane into his hand and Katya quickened her pace, closing the distance between them. She scooped him up in a big hug, leaning back far enough that Viktor's toes left the ground.
"Oh, I missed you," Katya sighed, hugging him tighter.
With a huff and a final squeeze, Katya plopped her brother back down.
"I missed you too," he replied, his eyes falling to the packet of paper still in his hand.
"What's this?"
Viktor sheepishly looked up at his sister, tips of his ears going pink, a self-conscious smile trying to muster its way through the teeth biting his lips. He offered the packet and Katya took it. It was folded in half, and she carefully unbent the hinge of the heavy weight parchment. It was a test – the history test he had been studying and fretting over all last weekend. A thick and elegant quill tip had written '100' in velvety, opaque red ink across the top of the paper. Katya's face lit up with excitement for him.
"You did it! Of course you did," Katya crowed, drawing her brother to her chest once more. "You are maddeningly brilliant!"
Viktor giggled against the lapel of her coat. Maddeningly brilliant was what their father would call him when Viktor bested him at trivia games or found a loophole in one of the rules he and Katya were supposed to follow as children. It was also what their father reminded Viktor he needed to be to show-up all the Pilties he went to school with.
As the siblings stepped apart again, Ivy appeared at Viktor's side and handed his ruck sack to Katya. A murmured thanks was given as Katya slung the bag across her back.
"Of course," Ivy replied. "Viktor showed you his test, I take it."
Katya beamed and ran her hand through her brother's hair. "He did."
A mischievous grin appeared on Ivy's lips, and she leaned in conspiratorially, "You didn't hear it from me, but I heard that Viktor was the only student in that class to have perfect marks on this test."
Ivy winked and Viktor's face flushed tomato red.
Katya's face softened as her pride swelled. She wrapped an arm around Viktor's shoulders and tucked him against her side, nuzzling the top of his head, "Of course he did."
"Can we . . . go now?" Viktor whispered, clearly mortified by the attention.
"Yes, yes, we can go," Katya answered, rubbing his shoulder, and kissing the top of his head. "Come, we have some appointments to keep."
"Before you go," Ivy interjected, "the dean wanted me to let you know that parent-teacher conferences are coming up in a few weeks." Katya's face fell into careful neutrality. "He wanted to alert you ahead of time so that you might find coverage for work so that you may attend."
Katya's lips thinned, and she nodded as she turned to leave, "Thank you, Ivy."
"Thank you, Miss Ivy," Viktor parroted as he hobbled after his sister.
"See you on Monday," the aide called after them.
Katya and Viktor made the slow trek toward the Conveyor that would take them back into the depths of the Undercity. As they traveled, Viktor told his sister about his week. Excitedly rambling about Heimerdinger's science classes and how the class would start building things next week as they began their curriculum on robotics; gushing about the new dessert the school's kitchen had served after dinner one night; listing his assignments and prep work for the weekend. Katya listened and asked questions, happy that Viktor seemed cheerful.
As they waited in line for their Conveyor car, Katya's attention was pulled away by the sight of a woman across the road: petite and waifish, with long dark hair partially pulled away from her thin face, icy teal eyes framed by shapely brows. Tucked under her arm was a small laundry bag with jewel-toned fabric poking out from the top. The woman was in conversation with a man who appeared to be a Promenade Entrepreneur (judging by his demeanor and clothing). A rich, ruby frock was folded and tucked under his arm. He handed her a small coin purse and a grocer's bag of fresh produce.
"I convinced her to leave the mines in order to buy her more time. She bakes bread to sell to vendors at the market and tailors garments now."
"Katya."
Viktor's voice and the tug he gave at her sleeve brought her back. She looked down at her brother and he nodded to the Conveyor car that had arrived while she had been distracted. She adjusted the bag across her back, and they boarded the car.
"Who were you looking at?" Viktor asked as they sat down. He dutifully pulled his scarf up over his mouth and nose.
"No one," Katya lied, doing the same. "I was just lost in thought."
She of course didn't know if that woman was Silco's mother. Regardless, Katya was acutely aware of how quick her attention and thoughts were pulled by him. Did his mother know of his revolutionary dreams? Did she know where he would be tonight? The danger he would be in?
If he was anything like her, she knew Silco would keep his mother in the dark. Like Katya did Viktor. It was for the best: to keep them away from the danger and crimes that helped to give them the best life possible.
"What appointments do we have?" Viktor asked, once again drawing Katya out of the swirling thoughts in her anxious mind.
Glad for the distraction, she answered.
"We are going to stop by the Tanner to get you fitted for a new brace."
Even though half of Viktor's face was obscured, she could tell by the pinch between his brows that he was making a displeased expression. Katya smirked through her own scarf and nudged him playfully with her shoulder.
"Then I reserved us the best seats at Jericho's."
Viktor's eyes bulged with excitement even though he scoffed, "You don't need reservations at Jericho's!"
"Mmmm, so say you," sniffed his sister. "Those counter seats are difficult to come by."
Viktor laughed and the Conveyor car jolted to life and began its descent into the maw of the Undercity.
The siblings got off at one of the Entresol stops and traveled through the alleyways that housed the augmentation parlors. The air was thick with the smell of hot iron and burning rubber. The whine of high-pitched grinders and occasional yelps of jumpy clients cut through the base drone of gears clunking together and the deep, hellish whooshes of fiery, open-mouthed furnaces.
Augmentation parlors were not new features in the Undercity, although their clientele had shifted over the years as trends changed. There were still a few grizzled original augmenteers lumbering around from the days when the alley was much quieter, when people sought their skills because they needed to replace a missing limb or close open wounds with bits of metal and earth.
Now younger generations of augment artisans were setting up shops, providing citizens of the Lanes with changes to their person that were strictly for aesthetics. Heavy bolts bracketed to foreheads and temples, sharp metal quills that were embedded under the skin, piercings that adorned every conceivable body part (and sometimes, not so conceivable), skin was looked at as merely a canvas for tattoos.
Katya and Viktor made their way down the alley to one of the farthest shops. It belonged to one of the original augmenteers, a man their father had made fast friends with when it was clear that Viktor's body would require assistance not curling in on itself like a prawn in a hot skillet.
The old augmenteer's name was Pok, and he wasn't pleasant. Not that he was unkind, he just was not personable. The large, bald man had little patience and fewer words. He seemed to tolerate Katya and Viktor's father, and he seemed to dislike the girl herself. But he always did what was commissioned of him. And he did it well. Pok was also the last remaining augmenteer in the Lanes who was proficient enough in the art of tanning a hide that could stand up to daily use.
He had one son – Mek – whom he was grooming to take over the parlor, and Katya was pleased he was teaching the boy how to tan. It meant she wouldn't necessarily need to look elsewhere when the patriarch died.
When they entered Pok's Parlor, Mek was hammering away at a bright orange twist of metal. Sparks scattered away from the hammer head and danced in sunset-colored arcs across the floor. The boy was around Sevika's age and impossibly large. Since Katya and Viktor had been in last, new, thick swirls and points of black had been inked onto his pale arms.
Mek gave the hot metal a few more hefty CLANGS! before he noticed the two customers in the shop. He nodded in acknowledgement before setting the mallet down. He picked up a heavy pair of pliers and used them to transfer his medium into the furnace blazing behind him. The metal, which had begun to dull under the relatively cool air of the parlor, flamed bright red and orange as it met the heat of the fire. He clumsily tossed the pliers into a bucket near the hearth before turning back to Katya and Viktor.
"Yeah?"
"We have an appointment with Pok," Katya explained. "My brother needs a new back brace."
Mek's small eyes drifted to Viktor briefly. Without a word, he lumbered to a back room and returned with his father in toe. Pok had been a hulking mass at one point in his life. Now that he was getting on in years (by Undercity standards), his musculature was deteriorating and the hunch in his shoulders – which had started as a physical representation of his bad mood – was now stuck deep within his bones.
"'S wonderin' if we'd be seein' ya soon," Pok said as a way of greeting. His voice was low and reminded Katya of stones being run through a tumbler in the mines. It hurt to listen to.
"Yes, thank you for seeing us, Pok," Katya spoke even and quickly, knowing the augmenteer had a short fuse. "Viktor's current brace is almost too small – "
"Thas what eatin' that fancy Piltie food will get you."
Katya's brows quirked. A joke. A bad joke; a mean joke; but a joke nonetheless.
"Yes, well, regardless we need to have a new one made," she continued. "I would also like you to design it with front closures so that Viktor can do it himself."
Pok's already heavy brow dropped further. "A new design will cost ya extra, girl."
Katya matched his hard gaze with her own. "As will the extra material for a larger brace, I'm sure. I am no fool, Pok. I anticipated a higher cost."
Pok snorted through his wide nostrils. "A'ight. Here, boy. Stand over here."
He waved a large oven mitt sized hand, directing Viktor to the corner of the shop that homed a large drafting table and a short stool. Having done this many times before, Viktor dutifully limped over to the stool. Pok held out a great hand and lifted the boy up onto the platform. Katya knew better than to hover, so she stayed put. She folded her arms over her chest and carefully watched her brother shift his weight between his uneven legs, prepared to launch herself forward should it look like he was going to tumble off the measuring stool.
So rapt was Katya's attention on Viktor and Pok that she hadn't realized Mek ambling over to her. Only when his hulking shadow drifted into her periphery did she jolt to attention. Startled, she looked up into the boy's face.
"I saw you the other night," he whispered in a crackling high pitch. Had it not been for the ominous statement, Katya may have had to fight back an amused grin at the utter ridiculousness of his mis-matched voice and body. "At the meeting."
Katya's fingers squeezed her biceps tighter and looked back to Viktor. He was still on his own feet, Pok was shuffling around him, helping to remove garments so he could get the best possible measurements for his brace. Viktor being bare would've worried her if the parlor wasn't so blazingly warm.
"I didn't know you were there," Katya finally whispered back. "You're a Brother then, are you?"
She saw him nod his head out of the corner of her eye.
"You goin' on the mission tonight?" Katya's stomach quivered to hear the edge of excitement in Mek's voice.
She shook her head, "No."
"Smugglin' any goods brought back?"
"I don't think this is a good time or place to discuss such things," Katya sharply whispered. Neither Viktor nor Pok seemed to notice but she wasn't willing to keep running that risk.
Mek gave an annoyingly confident snort next to her. "I'm not goin' neither. But I tol' Van and Sil we could hide some'of the stuff out back in the Sheet Shed. Da doesn' go back there anymore."
"He doesn't know?" Katya couldn't stop herself from asking.
Again, Mek grunted, "Naw. Hates Pilties but only enough to cuss 'em out and spit after Enforcers – "
"Oi, boy!" Pok called from his work bench. "Come over 'ere. I want you t'take the measurements. Learn 'ow."
"Good seein' ya, Sister," Mek hushed as he walked toward his father.
Pok thrust a measuring tape at his son and began instructing where and how to take measurements. Mek clumsily toddled around Viktor, taking and re-taking measurements as Pok scribbled and doodled them down.
Katya stood still, watching, her fingers cramping from the grip they had on her coat.
The appointment at the augmentation parlor took longer than Katya had anticipated or wanted, but at least when she and her brother left, she felt good and confident about the product that Pok would be crafting for them. He was confident he would have the new brace completed at the end of the following week. Pleased, and thrown by her conversation with Mek, Katya and Viktor left Augmentation Alley and headed for Jericho's.
The Undercity staple was a short enough trip that they did not need to get back onto a Conveyor car. As night fell above the Undercity the neon and chem lights glowed and buzzed to life, lighting the way to the Black Lanes in squiggles and swatches of technicolor.
The siblings brushed past clusters of weary-faced Trenchers and bossy stall workers, yelling out their goods and sales into the night air. Katya ignored the occasional catcall, and her grip on Viktor's shoulder tightened when a gaggle of scrawny children burst through the streets, shrieking, and laughing as they scrambled up awnings and jumbly building walls.
It hurt her to watch her brother's eyes widen with want and self-consciousness as the group of children clambered out of sight.
As expected, Jericho's was bustling. It was still a small establishment, but its growing popularity over the years had allowed the restaurant's proprietor and namesake to claim the small sidewalk space just beyond the booth. Flimsy and small mismatched chairs and tables dotted the space in front of Jericho's, patrons happily hunched over bowls of various meat and seafood specials. Katya was pleased to see that the stools at the restaurant's booth were empty.
"See?" she said, jutting her chin towards the vacant stools. "Our seats are ready for us."
Viktor, finally pulled out from lonely melancholy by his sister's voice and the smell of Jericho's food, scoffed and rolled his eyes. Together they wove through the smattering of tables and chairs and perched themselves on two of the three stools at Jericho's counter. There had been a time when the third would have been taken up by their father.
Jericho warmly greeted Katya and Viktor with a slur of bubbly words neither of them knew but they understood the intonation. He grinned sharp, jagged teeth at them, his one eye twinkling under the chem-string lights that hung in boughs over his establishment. He slapped a large, stained menu on the counter between them and turned back to his hotpots and smoking sauté pans.
"We can each get a dish and serving of fry bread to share. Does that sound alright?"
Viktor grinned toothily and began scouring the menu. Together, their eyes greedily and excitedly took in the potential offerings. As children often struggle with, Viktor found he couldn't decide between a bowl of stir-fried noodles mixed with bits of meat or fried fish over a bed of fried root vegetable wedges.
"Alright," Katya sighed when he told her his predicament. She swiveled in her seat to face him and held up two fingers. "Pick."
Viktor bit his lower lip and his large eyes flicked between the digits in front of him. He furrowed his brow and Katya watched him push his tongue into his cheek. She chuckled.
"Such a stressful decision," she joked.
"It is!" he insisted. Katya laughed and Viktor wiggled in his seat, intently pondering the fingers in front of him.
Finally he spoke, "This one."
He pointed to Katya's index finger, and she said, "You're having fried fish and wedges. How do you feel about that?"
Viktor's face fell in surprised disappointment briefly before ticking back up into satisfaction. "Noodles!"
Katya smiled, "Noodles it is then."
When Jericho turned back to them, Katya ordered Vitkor's noodles, fry bread, and a plate of cold fish salad on hardtack for herself. The large, amphibious Vastaya trilled in delight, swiping the menu away from them and set about preparing their order.
While they waited for their food, Katya peppered Viktor with questions about his week at school and about the assignments he had for the weekend.
"Professor Heimerdinger told us to start thinking about what we might want to build as the ongoing project for the robotics curriculum," Viktor excitedly tittered, fiddling with the utensils Jericho had just set before them. A basket of steaming, greasy fry bread and an array of dipping sauces followed shortly.
Katya carefully tore a piece off before dipping it in the thin, vinegary dip that had various minced herbs floating in it. Viktor tore a strip for himself and dunked his in the brown, sugary molasses option. Katya chewed thoughtfully, enjoying the combination of crisp and soft, bitter and herbaceous. She had to tread lightly when Heimerdinger came up. She knew her brother liked him, liked the attention and mentorship the Yordle offered him. Viktor didn't know that the Professor had the audacity to ask Katya to pass his care to him at the last parent-teacher conference. Such rage had flooded her system that she marveled at her ability to not assault Piltover's meddling founder right then and there.
"Do you have any ideas?" Katya asked through her bite.
Viktor nibbled at his strip of bread, licking the sauce that had dribbled onto his fingers. He hummed thoughtfully.
"I was thinking . . . a boat."
"I think that's a wonderful idea," Katya affirmed. "Should we go to the Shores tomorrow? So we can watch the boats? Get some inspiration?"
"Yes!" cried Viktor excitedly. "Can we swim, too?"
Katya paused. "We will have to see what the weather is like. It may be too cold."
"What about the Springs by the Oases?"
Katya pursed her lips, her resolve faltering under Viktor's big, gold pleading stare. Before she could answer, Jericho plunked their orders down in front of them.
"I'll think about it," Katya said, gently tugging her plate closer to her. "This looks good. Let's eat!"
Feeling warm from full bellies and each other's company, Katya and Viktor boarded the Conveyor car that would take them to the stop nearest to their home. Night had fully fallen, and the car was blissfully empty. Having worn himself out needling Katya with thinly veiled hints that he would like to visit the Springs over the weekend, Viktor's head rested heavily on his sister's shoulder. Katya smiled beneath her scarf and drew him closer.
She would like to bring him to the Springs, a small pocket of naturally heated pools and grottos that lay just behind what was commonly referred to in the Undercity as the 'Oases'. The moniker was a little tongue-in-cheek. The Oases were a series of estuaries created by Piltover's water run-off that fed into the River Pilt. Children and youths from both cities would gather there to play, swim, and dare each other to jump off rock ledges into the deepest parts of the water.
It wasn't beautiful in a way Piltover recognized, but the sunshine and clean water were both luxuries to Fissure folk. Even more so to Viktor, who found that the buoyancy of water helped to relieve the aches in his bones and muscles in a way canes and braces couldn't.
Despite this, Katya hesitated to give in to Viktor's ask. The Shores were easy enough to travel to, weather-beaten and water-logged piers guiding the way. But the Oases and Springs required clambering over rocks and down steep banks of sand and loose gravel. Katya and Viktor had done it before, but it always sent her heart to her throat and tensed her muscles with nervousness as she led him to the Springs. It was easier when their father was alive, and he would carry Viktor down to the waters.
She also feared he'd get sick if the air was too chilled – even if the water of the Springs was pleasantly warm.
So lost in her thoughts, Katya hardly noticed that the Conveyor car had ground to a halt at their stop. She was jolted to when the conductor poked her head out of the cockpit and knocked against the glass. Muttering an apology, Katya nudged Viktor and herself to their feet and they shuffled out of the car.
The night air had cooled during the descent from the lower levels of the Entresol to the bottom of the Sump. It pained Katya to hear Viktor's teeth occasionally chatter from behind his scarf as they hurried toward their apartment. Mercifully, their street was empty of milling bodies, most people having traveled up to the Entresol and Promenade for Friday night outings and events. Katya threw her shoulder into their door as the key turned in the lock, Viktor close behind her.
"Go wash up and I'll make us some tea," she said, shucking her coat off and grabbing his.
Viktor limped to his room and Katya prepared the kettle after locking and bracing the front door. Her fingertips drummed on the countertop, eyes on the dented kettle, but not really looking at it. In the absence of her brother, her thoughts once again drifted to the Children of Zaun and that night's mission. Sevika would be there. She had foolishly and exuberantly volunteered to be in the small squad that would commandeer the freight vessel. Her, Vander, Silco, and Benzo. According to Beckett, who worked the docks as it turned out, the crew of this barge was set to be small despite the worth of the cargo.
"Ten people tops," he had promised.
Annie had bobbled her dark purple head in agreement. She had apparently been the distraction, sweet-talking the son of the Harbormaster who had been on watch while Beckett crept into the office to peek at the roster of imports and exports, and the ships they would be on. Allegedly, the amount of cargo was fairly small, which was why there was a smaller crew and why Vander seemed so confident in being able to pull this job off. Beckett, Annie, and a small group of older children would blend into the night and act as lookouts and distributors when the main team got the goods into the Lanes.
The kettle began to wail, and Viktor thumped into the kitchen, dressed in long-johns and wooly socks. Katya quickly prepared two mugs of nighttime tea and set them on the small table.
"Shall we play a round of cards before bed?" she asked, looking for anything to keep her mind off of Sevika and the Children of Zaun.
Viktor nodded his head and pulled his mug toward him, curling his small hands around the ceramic, relishing the warmth seeping out. He lowered his lips to the rim and blew steadily across the tea's surface, ripples eddying away and breaking on the opposite side of the cup. He grinned at the patterns in the water.
He hoped they could swim tomorrow.
Katya fetched a tattered deck of cards from a cabinet and sat opposite her brother. The cards were mismatched; a hodgepodge of suits from various decks to create a full set, with several different sizes and weights in paper. It made shuffling the deck very clunky.
That's what Katya told herself, anyway. It certainly wasn't the slight, agitated tremble in her fingers.
She dealt the hands, and the game began. Each set of amber eyes looking at the other over a fan of cards or a chipped mug rim.
An hour and a cup of tea later, Katya had claimed victory over her brother. In a winner's flourish, she set her cards down and Viktor's forehead thumped against the table's edge in defeat, a world-weary sigh escaping his lips. After a beat, they both laughed, and Katya collected their empty mugs.
"Bedtime," she said, placing them in the sink.
Viktor yawned and nodded, stiffly rising from his seat. Together, they went to his bedroom. Katya took his cane as he lifted himself into bed, and she carefully set it against his nightstand. As Viktor settled against his thin mattress and pillows, Katya drew the blankets up around him, fluffing them about his neck. A smile tugged at her lips as she watched his eyes droop.
"Good night, Viktor," she whispered, leaning down and kissing his forehead. "I love you."
"I love you too, Kat," he yawned, snuggling deeper into the nest he was making himself.
She turned down the lamp on his bedside table and quietly left the room, sparing him one last glance before shutting the door. Katya softly padded her way to her bedroom and changed into her usual sleepwear of an oversized shirt. She sat on the edge of her bed and undid the braid her hair was wound up in. Now that Viktor was in bed, now that it was quiet, the worries swirling in her mind stormed against the edges of her brain. She did her best not to catastrophize, but images of Enforcers and bloodied bodies kept flickering behind her eyes.
What if Beckett was wrong? Even if he wasn't, what if the plan fell through and the Children's scheme fell apart, leading to a massive manhunt for the other members of this clandestine revolution?
Fear tickled the back of Katya's throat and her knee bobbled nervously.
What had she gotten herself into?
"You deserve opportunity and respect, Katya. You shouldn't have needed to work to help support your family when you were six. Your parents shouldn't have been taken away from you, leaving you to figure out how to keep your brother alive. You deserve more than just eking out meager survival, Katya."
Katya gulped a breath as the memory of Silco's words cut through the murk of her anxiety like a hot knife through butter.
"Piltover will never see us as worthy of respect or opportunity. They will never give those things to us. We will have to take them."
Katya rose to her feet, gathered the blanket on her bed and strode out of her room. If she wasn't going to sleep, she might as well do something useful, do something that kept her mind off of the mission. Off of the miner that insisted on taking up residence in her head.
Katya plopped herself down on the ratty couch in the apartment's main room and tucked the blanket around her. She slid a slender hand underneath the furniture and drew out a large anatomy textbook she hid there.
When their father died, Katya sold a great many items from their former home she deemed unimportant and nonessential. She didn't want to, but she and her brother needed the money. The books her father had gathered throughout his life – the books he used to cull and feed Viktor's mind – were too valuable to part ways with.
Katya settled into the creaky and lumpy couch, opening the heavy book to the page she had previously dog-eared and resumed reading about the human respiratory system.
Harsh and relentless knocking jolted Katya wake. The book, which had been resting open on her thighs, tumbled noisily to the floor. Her heart pounded against her sternum, limbs locking in surprise.
What time was it? How long had she been asleep?
The knocking ceased only for a moment before it started up again. Her limbs released themselves and she shot to her feet, wide eyes glued to the door. Her mouth was dry, unsure of what to do; unsure of what was happening.
"Kat?" a tired voice mumbled from the hall. "What's that?"
The noise had also woken Viktor and he was now sleepily leaning on his cane and the wall, looking between her and the door. The siblings jumped as the knocking turned to pounding.
"Go back to your room," Katya hissed as she stumbled toward the door.
"But – "
"Go back to your – "
"Katya!" a voice rasped from behind the door, and she froze.
"Who's that?" Viktor squeaked.
"Go back to your room," Katya repeated, waving him away. Viktor flinched at her tone and brandishing arm.
Katya's hands wrenched the brace pole away from the door and unlocked the deadbolt. She left the lock chain in place. Just in case.
She cautiously opened the door as far as the chain would let her and peered outside. Silco's thin body and pale face filled the opening. Behind him, Katya could make out the burly silhouettes of three others: Sevika and Vander, with Benzo hung in the middle, his arms around the others' shoulders. Katya's eyes flicked back to Silco.
"We need your help," he hissed.
Notes: Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment on the way out :)