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Vis knew that the other Vis’s were just as real as him - they were him, even - but he couldn’t help but think of them as copies and himself as the original. He was the Vis from Res after all, the one who hadn’t been transported anywhere else after the Labyrinth and had had to complete the Iudicium, continue his normal life here. The other Vis, who apparently went by Deaglán, from Luceum had been living a completely different life, it seemed. When Vis had summoned him at the Ruins on Solivargus, Deaglán had been speaking an unfamiliar language, asking about people Vis had never heard of with strange names, like “Tara” and “Miach.” It had been a surprise to not just Vis, but everyone in the room with him - Emissa, Eidhin, Aequa, Veridius, and Indol; While hopeful, no one had seemed to wholeheartedly expect the summoning to work.
When Deaglán realized where he was, he had seemed surprised but not exactly happy. They hadn’t yet had a chance to talk much, but he had been shocked most at the sight of Vis, like he hadn’t even realized there was another version of him that existed, or that he was in another world in the first place. Vis couldn’t help but wonder how and why he had come to that point, where he had just accepted the new lands he had found himself in. Despite his apparent longing for Luceum, there had still been some joy in his expression when he recognized the others.
Vis wanted to ask more about Deaglán and his life, about Luceum, but the portal began to flash again. Everyone turned to look as another figure appeared in the room. However, unlike Deaglán, who had just been standing in confusion when he appeared, this new person stayed in motion. They were moving in a rhythmic fashion, hips swaying and kohl-lined eyes closed in concentration as they took command of the room like it was a stage. The others stepped back when the dancer got too close, though their enrapture didn’t cease. If anything, it intensified as they watched.
Vis watched the athletic figure as well, unwittingly entranced by the long hair, the flow and snap of the sheer fabric that artfully decorated them - him, Vis noted as he caught sight of the dancer’s bare chest. His movements alternated between sharp and smooth in mesmerizing patterns. It wasn’t done with natural grace, but there was something freeing about it nonetheless, like a kite with its strings cut in the wind. The clear amount of effort put into the dance showed in the flex of his lean muscles, accentuated by the shine of sweat on his skin.
As the dancer twirled, Vis saw a glimpse of his back through the shimmering cloth and frowned in concern before freezing.
Those lines, scars from whipping after whipping... that was his back. Vis’s back.
There was no way… but the more Vis stood there, frozen in shock, the more obvious it was. Who else could have physically arrived through the portal?
And given that they had already determined the first Vis was from Luceum, this must be the version of him from Obiteum. But… what could have possibly led to this chain of events? Vis could swear that he had never danced before in his life, at least not like… this.
Vis’s eyes widened in dismay as he replayed the previous moments from a horrifying new lense. The swaying hips and seductive movements, sheer clothing and… captive audience?
Before he could do more, the dancer - Vis from Obiteum - finished his performance with a flourish, posing artistically and breathing hard. He opened his kohl-lined eyes and gasped in shock at the view before him. His arms (plural?) dropped limply to his sides from their final pose as he looked around in bewilderment.
Vis stepped forward, intent on getting out the first word (and not willing to hear what the others had to say just yet). “Vis from Obiteum,” he said authoritatively, drawing everyone’s attention. “What are you wearing?”
Well. That wasn’t what he meant to say.
The Vis in question flushed and reached down to cover himself in an attempt at modesty, though the only opaque part of his outfit was an atrociously small strip of white cloth around his hips. Not that it had properly stayed in place throughout the entirety of the movement-heavy dance. Vis felt himself color as he registered what that meant in regards to the rest of the audience.
“Oh, don’t bully him, Vis,” Aequa said, smiling through the red tint to her own cheeks. A similar color stained Emissa’s cheeks, and even Indol was avoiding eye contact. Veridius looked taken aback but kept his composure otherwise, and Eidhin’s trademark expression remained for the most part, though his eyebrows were raised slightly in what Vis knew was intense amusement. He would never live this down. At least Deaglán seemed to share in his dismay, even if confusion was the more potent expression. “You’re just jealous that you can’t move like that.”
“It seems like I can, evidently.” What was he even saying? This whole situation was messing with his equilibrium. While he had prepared himself to navigate many situations, he had never considered one where a scantily-clad version of himself would suddenly appear and perform a sensual dance in front of his friends and old Principalis. Rotting gods. What was his life?
Obiteum Vis chose that moment to speak up. “This isn’t what it looks like!” he said, looking very unconvincing with his luscious long hair, lined eyes, and provocative outfit. How had his hair grown so long, anyway? Deaglán had been growing out his hair but it still fell several inches short in comparison. Did time pass differently in Obiteum?
There was a moment of silence. “Well, it is, kindof,” he hedged. “I was dancing, but I was undercover for a mission. I had to pass inspection.”
“Did you not feel the uniquely painful sensation that comes with switching worlds?” Vis said.
“You’re pretty skilled to only have been dancing as a front,” Aequa piped up, getting some nods from the others.
“I was practicing for a couple months first to make my dancer cover a realistic option,” Obiteum Vis addressed Aequa first, clearly embarrassed, but Vis didn’t miss the flicker of gratification at her acknowledgement of his abilities. Then he turned to Vis. “And it was a very important mission,” he glared. “I couldn’t let anything disrupt the flow. Not that it matters now, probably.” He absently brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen onto his shoulders and then, realizing what he was doing, pulled off what seemed to be a wig. Shorter, wavy hair was revealed underneath, and Vis was vaguely appalled to discover that this made it worse somehow. The familiar hairstyle made them look much more alike, rather than someone else who simply had Vis’s face.
Veridius stepped forward, fierce and barely-tempered curiosity in his eyes. “And what was this mission about, Vis?”
Obiteum Vis looked over at the Principalis with less suspicion then Vis would have expected. Still, he didn’t jump to answer. “I have some questions of my own, first.”
And so the discussion began, Veridius leading with specific questions that he had clearly been wondering about for a long time, likely years. Both the Vis’s from Obiteum and Luceum alternated between providing answers and asking pointed ones of their own. Everyone partook in the conversation, especially Vis, and yet he couldn’t help but get occasionally distracted by Obiteum Vis despite being naturally good at hiding it. Had he always had such piercing eyes? Or was the black lining just that effective?
Of course, the others’ attention lingered at some points too. While both Vis’s were targets of their observation, the focus inevitably fell to the one from Obiteum. Aequa, Emissa, and Indol in particular alternated between staring unabashedly and pretending they weren’t doing exactly that, faces red the whole time. At some point, Indol offered his own cloak to the man who took it gratefully. Oddly enough, the sight didn’t seem to make Indol any less distracted. Eidhin spent more time staring at Vis himself, looking increasingly entertained at Vis’s flustered discomfort. Despite the crucial importance of this meeting and the fact that this newfound ability could very well be the key to preventing the next Cataclysm, Vis couldn’t help but will this conversation to go faster. Or at least for Obiteum Vis to change clothes and take off that gods-damned kohl.
… Anyway.