As for the way funerals typically go, _his_ had better be near indistinguishable from the ordinary.

This is the first thought Viktor has when he returns to his body from the arcane astral realm. He finds himself back among the floating, glowing tethers of his orbital commune coccoon, moments after the arcane was so very kind to show him the future of how he dies a second time.

Viktor’s physical senses return to him one by one, and he hears the distant gentle hum of commune activities. He can only be sorry for his people out there, who look up to him so kindly for guidance.

If he is really going to die again by…Jayce’s…hands, how cruel would it be to also leave his body dead on the floor of this cocoon, without so much as a final procession or period of mourning for his people to grieve?

He had _saved_ them, after all.

It was not impractical to make himself a coffin in advance. It’s what his past self might have wanted, regardless. It was not selfish, nor conniving, but rather a gesture of respect for himself. Yet another trait his past self dreamed of having, but never sought to fulfill as…human.

The arcane taught him well. _You are perfect now, and that makes you more than deserving. _

It is this motivation that causes Viktor to slowly untether himself with a graceful landing of his new and perfect bare feet onto the ground. He weilds his staff, and steps out into the sunlight to go make a special visit to the commmunity’s best carpenter.

“Herald,” he hears in a chorus of murmurs around him. His people are moving skillfully from one stall to the next, but pause what they are doing to greet him as he passes. He meets their familiar faces eye to eye. Fine workers, craftspeople, innovators. All expertly _capable_ and _willing_ to create for themselves now that they are free from the shackles of their ills.

He nods to each one of them silently, making his way further down the path that leads to the lower orchards. It is never fully quiet, down here in this evolved undercity fissure, but he notices the calm atmosphere today. It almost makes him _feel_ something, and _that_ is near enough to tempt him to stay out of the astral realm for longer periods. Be more present within the community.

Yet Viktor turns around with a slow drag of his staff, to look back up the sloping hill at his coccoon. How easy it would be to return to the tethers of astral meditation, to remain forever enveloped by the embrace of the arcane.

It was like the experience of a warm hug, now that he vaguely recalls the feeling. _Hm_. A notion foreign to him now, but something that had been triggered by a memory.

Someone.

Viktor ends up at the bottom of the hill where fresh, clear water trickles in little canals. A small gaggle of salamanders swims through one of the waterways where he crosses. He carefully wades through them, and they swim off.

He remembers his priorities are to the people and the animals living here.

Given this, he would like to have another skilled carpenter build a series of small bridges, so that the salamanders can wade in peace instead of dodging bipedal feet.

Someone else will need to fulfill the project. The carpenter he has in mind today will be too busy with the task of building his coffin.

Wippppp (need to incorporate shoelace)