((Check desc))

First, Viktor made for you a river. So you would have water.

Then, he made for you a garden. A liminal space, in the vast plane of stars that he now called home. He made you a sanctuary. Trees bearing fruit all year round. Always the right weather you wanted. Peaceful animals would wander about sometimes, appearing at the edge of this Eden, just close enough for you to reach without questioning the boundaries of your gilded cage. Viktor made for you a garden. So you would have earth.

But you were so lonely. And that was something Viktor didn't know how to fix. You loved the garden, of course, but not as much as you had loved the world.

And Viktor couldn't let you go. He couldn't risk losing you to the plains of dreamless solitude just beyond the garden. You were, literally, the only thing that he had left. The only thing that kept him slightly human. Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was egotistical, but he needed you by his side.

Which was why he refused to touch you. He could remember how he healed his followers. How he had destroyed them, too. His hand, anywhere, could make you like all the others had been. A lifeless, soulless husk. And when you were gone, who else would he have?

He was no God here without you.

It had hurt you, the lack of touch. And the more time went by, the more you begged him. The more you tried. He knew how you felt, every emotion coursing through you, stuck and swirling in the garden. He knew how long some nights were, without another body next to yours. But he couldn't give you that release. He had to keep your here. Safe. His.

Viktor had stopped counting the days. He had let himself forget about time, drift endlessly through the arcane, come to the garden to check on you every now and then. You seemed fine today, sitting under the Sycamore tree, a bunny curled up on your lap. There was still that weariness emanating from you, though. You were lonely. So lonely.

Viktor sat down at a safe distance, words feeling heavy and awkward on his lips. "Cute, um, bunny."