[ jayce fully awakens to the chattering of his own teeth another time, having not realized he'd blacked out again and was drifting, in, out, in, out— he whispers as only his half lidded eyes move across dusty tiled floors in the cold tomb of his fall, having dragged himself onto his side: where am . . . what was i . . . , only half formed thoughts coming and dispersing. he doesn't know where he is. he can't seem to remember what happened immediately, and his disorientation makes his mind a muddy viel to sift through, failing to grasp at anything worth while. he's cold. he's so damn cold that the tremors across the burn of his skin make his muscles ache. it's a violent short of shake he can't stop, but only curl into. the armor— the pauldron and arm guards are making him even colder.
jayce attempts to shed himself of his accessories, succeeds only half-way before his vision blurs and his stomach lurches. attempting to right himself is what does it— he expels bile, and is left another huffing mess right next to it, doing his best to at the very least turn away from the acrid stench of it. he's on his back, now. looks up, sees the fogged splinters of wood he fell through and feels the hot wetness of blood down the side of his face, the scrapes through his pants, and the rashes that have spotted his skin all over.
how long has he been here—?
jayce tries not to move during the first hour or so, but he does try to stay awake. he counts. loses count. counts backwards, stops at six. he awakens from another brief slumber with dust caking his lips, and goes right back to uncontrollable tremors. he tries to move another time— the pain spikes, he nearly vomits again, and decides he should keep still to avoid losing even more fluids. at least the rashes stopped itching (no, he's just shivering too much for minimal heat to even regard the prickling).
the cold crawls into his bones and makes nests in his marrow as an hour becomes far more. his blistered knuckles, open and wounded from his bouts of anger, burn angry with bright red frostnip, his fingers curl tight into his palms just as much as the rest of him curls to fight the temperature. at the very least, he attempts turning when the side against the floor numbs. i'm not going to die here, he tells himself as he pulls his battle jacket around his middle tighter, closing the straps and buckles despite the sweat damp scarf around his neck. he can't tell how much time it's been, only that he's certain he's blinked only a few times during, which meant its only been a few minutes— but that's wrong, and jayce clearly has lost all sense of tracking anything accurately at all when the later half of the day has grazed by. i've walked through worse. i'll be fine. i just need to . . . stop spinning. then i could look for a way out.
the conditions, including jayce's, worsen. the building's insulation could only stave hypothermia off an inert body for so long. it's been long enough that his body has diminished the wild quaking to keep warm— it's stopped trying by the time his sweat drenched frame has begun to feel too stiff, but it wasn't as if jayce had realized it.
if there was a voice echoing from within the building, jayce only heard a muffled yawn of pressure against his ear drums. he's been hearing things as is— pops and ringing, buzzing noise that moved with the shadows. darkness moved at some point, too. he thought he saw a beast earlier, a giant lizard that just stared at him from the mounds of metal he'd fallen onto (no one is going to believe him when he says he saw a dragon. perfect!). heimerdinger and his stupid porro trudged around like penguins. looks like you're in a bit of a pickled plum, my boy. ugh. don't remind him. his mother bringing him tea and promising pastries later— he just needed to drink, and melt in her arms. if there was some sort of door, he couldn't get to it, and even if he could— it was locked. with his breathing beginning to slow and slim down the visible puffs of it, a faux heat seeps under his layers, has him peeling away at his scarf, opening his jacket and trying to shrug out of it with no complete success, tricks jayce into pulling away at his gloves too, where his fingers have gone numb underneathe.
jayce groans slurred words in the dark; his mother returns, with the promised pastries she'd got him for progress day and a kiss against his jeweled forehead, the only shimmer in the dark he couldn't even see. he felt like a boy again, floating on a cloud, in his bed. tea did the trick, mom. 'm burning up. ]
Edited (sorry i keep remembering things) 2025-07-19 13:32 (UTC)
[ Viktor's stomach sinks lower and lower as he progresses through the building and only comes up empty in his search. He'd been so certain that this is where he'd find Jayce, so where could he be? Almost ready to backtrack to the front doors and continue looking elsewhere, he pauses at the edge of a gaping hole in the floor of one room. It doesn't look like very old damage, and as he leans in to examine the edge, he can see that the snapped edges of wooden flooring are fresher than the aged, molded surfaces. Heart sinking, he peers down through the darkness below and catches a glinting pair of eyes one level down.
No, not eyes. A gilded mask.
Bursting into action, he leaves the room and returns to a set of stairs he'd passed earlier, taking them down a floor and then retracing his steps from above to bring him back to the scene below. He spots the mask immediately, recognizing it from that strange dream they had shared, vague memories of an orchard and velvet skin and astral colors. Feeling as though he would blush if he still had the ability to, Viktor shakes his head to focus on the task at hand. He's close, Jayce had been here, and the holes in the floor make his stomach plummet with the thought of Jayce having done the same. ]
I'm coming for you. [ He says it to reassure them both, hoping he'll get a response from Jayce to soothe away his own worries of what he'll find at the bottom of this wreckage. A quick survey of another hole in this floor brings him back to the stairs which he follows down and down until he can't go any farther. It brings him to another floor with another Jayce sized hole and no obvious way down, no more stairs that he can see immediately.
Swearing under his breath, he perches delicately on the edge of the splintered flooring and lowers his glowing hand down, casting light below until he spots him. He's not huddled up despite the cold, laying there with his jacket and scarf discarded, looking small and vulnerable to the shadows surrounding him. ]
Jayce! [ Viktor doesn't think any further before scrambling down into the hole, holding onto the edge of it with one hand as he lowers himself onto the wreckage of metal shelving and empty boxes below. When he gets to Jayce, sliding to his knees next to him, it's a miracle to find he wasn't impaled by something on his descent through the building. That's about the end of his good luck, though, because his skin is icy cold and his brace looks shot to hell. ]
Jayce, can you hear me? [ Pulling the runic shawl from around his shoulders, Viktor is careful to wrap it around Jayce as tightly as possible, bundling him up as he lifts him from the floor to cover him completely. That's when he sees the blood on his head, sticky and already browning from oxidation, evidence of a head wound that he might have gotten on the way down through the building or the final blow at the bottom. Viktor's movements turn gentler, less frantic but no less hurried. If Jayce has a concussion, the cold may not be their biggest concern. ]
I need you to stay awake. [ He snatches up Jayce's discarded jacket and scarf before pulling him away from the center of the room, finding a wall more sheltered from air currents where they can huddle together. Sitting down in the corner, he pulls Jayce into his lap, wishing he could provide any body heat rather than the tepid hum of his living metal skin. It's better than the cold floor, at least, and drawing Jayce's coat over them both at least creates a bit of a tent-like shelter. The important thing is the shawl which Viktor urges to warm the frigid skin beneath it. ] Jayce, are you with me?
[ the shadows are moving again. the sounds bubble like listening to a voice underwater. just glub glub glubs in a sea of unseen fish. his eyes are terribly, terribly heavy and he still fights to keep them open, half lidded at the very least. that must be mom. she said she was coming back with— ]
Pas . . . tries . . .
[ they go well with tea. speaking of . . . what did she put in the tea? jayce is so groggy he looks and sounds drunk off an entire barrel. there's no resistance in being moved, or rather— there's significant delay in any of it, rigid limbs twitching with lazy sway. ]
Mom, [ the slurred starts and ends of a negative whine, perhaps a no at first, a stop that doesn't quiet lift off as jayce squirms under the layers and against the sturdy frame of bolts and hexmatter behind him. nothing he does is actually successful though, he barely has the strength to lift himself up without dizziness making his eyes flutter back and spin his world around again, to the point that if it weren't for viktor propping him up, he'd slant stiff right back into the tiled floors. instead, where he leans back into is viktor, groaning through the pain splitting into his head and nearly making him ill again— if it weren't for the cold taking priority. ] too hot.
[ it may take a bit, to truly warm up, but what he needed was already there; now it was patience, and prayer that jayce still had fight while the rest of him was failing. ]
[ When Jayce had first told Viktor about the blizzard that nearly took the lives of him and his mother, Viktor had made a point to read up about the weather phenomenon he'd never witnessed in his life and imagined he never would in his future. Hypothermia had been one of the leading causes for concern in subzero temperatures, and Viktor is already doing mental calculations based on Jayce's symptoms to figure out how long he's been down here, exposed to the cold. At least they aren't outside, fully at the mercy of the weather, but the rundown building is hardly insulated enough to be much better. Still, there's no wind and no snow. That means he'd probably found Jayce after hours, in the final stages, which explains the shedding of clothes and hallucinations about his mother.
The concussion is another issue to contend with. Viktor doesn't want to push Jayce's mind too hard, but he needs to keep him awake for fear he may slip into sleep and never wake up. Calm, he has to stay calm, be warm and steady and get Jayce to the point that they can get out of here together. ]
That's your fever, remember? [ He pulls Jayce tighter against his chest as he relaxes backwards, careful to keep the coat over his head but not close enough to smother him. ] What kind of pastries would you like?
[ He can feel silly about this later and let the guilt sink in once Jayce is out of the woods with his dueling conditions. Of course Viktor shouldn't have let him alone in a dangerous place like this, but he'd been so wrapped up in selfish self-loathing that it had seemed like the best options at the time. If Jayce hadn't been stubborn about chasing after him, maybe he would have been safe elsewhere. Regardless, now Viktor shall be his willing keeper.
Hours of exposure. Concussed head. Broken leg brace. Surely other bumps and scraps earns from his rapid decent. Viktor could make a fire, but it would require leaving Jayce alone long enough to gather wood to burn, and in these late stages of hypothermia, he knows he can't rush the heat back into Jayce's body. ]
[ this might take a bit. jayce's occassional, fruitless writhing is at least a sign of his response, but being spoken to is another challenge entirely— he can't make the synapse to think about a coherent answer, flips it around until he's forgotten what it was they were talking about, the same way he stops counting up. the same way he fishes for a drunken answer and comes up emptyhanded.
this is going to be an embarrassing event to recall. jayce talis, brilliant inventor gone rugged: falls down not once in a hole all on his own, but twice. ]
I'll just, ugh, [ he makes a noise from within, almost a lurch of his empty stomach becoming aggravated that the blurred edges of his vision were still angling onto twisting axis', ] get sick, again.
[ he waves it off a little too dramatically; murmurs turn into delicate whispers as jayce slumps— awake, but barely. breathing, but shallow. hair sticks to his temple in caked threads by sweat and blood. his arms fall under the covers as he inebratedly complains about his head, casting his palms upon the spindly lengths of viktor's legs. knees? what he says next is flat, comedic, out of context. something's not right (there are a very many things that aren't right, right now). ]
You did something, [ it's the first time that he attempts to tilt his head upwards and get a look— but through his hazel gold eyes not a sound thought sits behind the shine; only disjointed dreams, born of fever, head trauma and the cold in his bones being forcibly pried out of him. the replacement of warmth is gradual and so is jayce's sluggish speech, but eventually he does successfully end that thought with an incredulous: ] to my chair.
[ Every movement and noise is at least a sign that Jayce is alive, holding on and slowly warming up. The minutes tick by so slowly that Viktor loses track of them, focused only on keeping Jayce still so he doesn't further jostle his head injury and warm so his skin continues to heat up. He wishes he still had any kind of real power, something that would allow him to reach inside of Jayce and stir the fire of his core, but he's still learning how to control this new runic ability and so would never risk experimenting with his partner in this unstable condition. ]
You can eat when you feel better. [ That's another thing he's going to need to figure out, how to get food and water for Jayce once he's recovered. If they can find a door out of this place and some alternate stairs back up to the main floor, they can leave together, but otherwise their escape will have to wait until Jayce can climb back out of the hole with Viktor.
All of this mental calculus is starting to make Viktor's head ache, the cold far from helpful even if his body seems to be more tolerant of it than a human one. Small blessings, to be stuck in this form that at least works better than his original one, but still powerless in comparison. Jayce's words pull Viktor from his silent reverie, and if it weren't the sign that he was still hallucinating, it would probably make him laugh. ]
Sorry, I had to improvise. Your chair is safe and sound.
[ cue disjointed babbling that starts and ends with frequency; jayce repeatedly trails off or hardly says real words, even though in his head he's sure he's giving specifications on how he likes his chair. his mother doesn't know. but then again, he's forgotten if he's still speaking to her or not. he hasn't stopped to consider.
the uncomfortable heat lingers and jayce tosses this way and that only a few times in his partial silences to groan about it. the kind that complains, and that's if he isn't whispering nonsense— it's only past an hour or so later that jayce begins to shiver again, fingers moving more independently. it's slow, on and off, comes and goes; his hushes become audible words, although disconnected: i have to, vik, where's, viktor, stupid, viktor, find viktor— ]
He's still out there . . . [ it's obvious that jayce is not going to lift himself up with success, not with his brace busted and certainly not with the onset of vertigo. the metal clinks and scrapes against the floor when he kicks his legs out anyway, his boot's lowrise heels scraping away at their seats and caged by viktor's hold enough that jayce's efforts collapse against his partner's chest. with his cheek pressed against the herald's elongated bicep, he blinks more times than necessary, feels his eyes threaten to roll back before strain contracts his muscles, gets him to scrunch his nose, squeeze his eyes— he forces a look up. his vision has a hard time focusing, and an even longer time to make the connection to recognition. ] Where's—
[ jayce's fingers curl around viktor's arm, a steadying grip as he takes deeper breaths, exhales through a lightheaded whirl around his eyes just keep doing, and closing them just makes his gut feel worse like he's being flipped around like a damn pancake. his second attempt, to peer through the dancing double-imagery until it focuses and an incredibly scrunched nose garners a single worded question; the same one he had when he had woken up in the city, when he had woken up every day from minute-rests and in this basement— ]
[ The shivering is reassuring, a sign that Jayce's body is fighting to make its own heat again, but he's careful not to let him jostle his head about too much in the process. As he babbles, Viktor mumbles back, I'm here, I'm sorry, yes I was stupid, Jayce I'm here. He knows that this isn't his fault directly, he hadn't been the one to push Jayce through the floor, but he might as well have been—if Jayce hadn't been searching for him, if Viktor had cut ties more cleanly, or maybe not at all, things would have been different. ]
I'm here. [ Viktor tightens his arms around Jayce as he attempts to move, keeping him in place until he gives up and they can both relax again. It keeps his body active, at least, which is probably a good thing because otherwise he might freeze in the position he's in, immortalized as Jayce's careful cage.
Looking down at Jayce, single eye bright in the dimness since he'd allowed the light in his palm to go out, he wishes he could smile or give some other kind of reassuring expression to greet the recognition that comes. Or maybe, maybe Jayce is being hopeful, and when he fully regains his senses, he'll be horrified to see Viktor as he is in reality. ]
It's me. [ Viktor's voice is soft, sad, sounding more human and less metallic as it reaches for Jayce through the Murmur connecting him. He can't imagine how he would communicate if they'd ended up anywhere else, lacking the arcane power to project his voice as well as a local network that enables him to do something similar. He won't think about it, won't think about anything but keeping Jayce warm and safe. ] Are you with me now?
[ jayce's breathing picks up— he feels ill from jostling around, like he'd disgorge more fluids at any moment and leans his head forward, for drool to follow into his beard and spat on the floor to force both the nausea as much as the nasty taste out. i'm gonna throw up, but nothing comes beyond the heaving prior to an episode. he can't quite . . . make out the other's face, fractured honeycombs of the anomaly's structure suppressing the true shape of his memory left punctured. he doesn't try again with the feeling so fresh, but he does cling— and cling even harsher to viktor he does, when the next tremble comes fullbody as much as violently. the cold seeps in again like a phantom haunting an estate. everything hurts. he's exhausted his muscles and yet they can once again prioritize the action of generating more heat. his head splits from the inside, pounds where the skin has lacerated and crusted over with still sticky scabbing.
his teeth chatter like drum rolls. jayce's fingers and toes prickle like thousands of pinprick needles plunging into flesh. ]
I-I'm dying, Viktor—
[ that may certainly not be the case, if anything jayce was being snatched away from the brink, but gods, it feels like it. it feels like everything is wrong with him. only a partial delusion— the blow to his head was unkind. the brilliance of his mind has scattered and sat confused in its inflamed encasing by now. wounds felt raw, screaming, from the red-crude knuckles to the bruises on his neck, legs, body and odd rashes that felt like a plague waiting to burst. the pinkness to his extremeties replaces the worrying paleness. ]
I think I, I got something— [ his voice waves through the tremors in unbound stammers, that he can only try to speed through to make listening to himself possible— but his jaws are locked tight. he can't push beyond the stark slurring. the brain . . . does this sort of thing before it burns out for good, doesn't it? jayce's brows crease together tightly, now out of the dolor that fear brought with it. ] You're not real. That's—
[ too much shaking. it's like his body has just now realized its holder's redusal to drop dead from the caved floors above. ]
[ Jayce's words are still a little nonsensical, but at least he's responding in something close to sentences. It doesn't seem like he's hallucinating anymore, and maybe the fluttering of his eyelids means that he's starting to make some sense of his surroundings. The dry heaving is worrying, making Viktor wonder when the last time he had some water was, and that's an issue he'll have to face sooner rather than later if he wants to keep Jayce on the mend.
Rubbing a hand against his back, the touch gentle for fear of bruising more skin if he's too heavy-handed, he tucks the shawl more tightly around Jayce's torso and makes sure his hands stay firmly inside the warmth being generated for him. ]
You're not dying. [ Viktor says it like a fact, like a law of physics, a fact of nature. ] I won't let you.
[ The next words make his chest ache as if his breath had been stollen away. Was it so hard to believe that he could be here? Could be the one that found Jayce and bundled him up for warmth, wrapped himself around him like a shield? He knows that he'd been the one to leave in the first place, knows that Jayce believes him to be stubborn because it's the truth, but to have his presence be unbelievable...
It's probably his appearance. The last time he'd seen Jayce, they'd been in the dreamscape together, Viktor's human body returned to him minus its imperfections. Jayce should have guessed that reality wouldn't be so kind, that Viktor's mechanical body would follow him here like a curse he'd placed upon himself. He can feel his dead third arm hanging behind him, digging in between his back and the wall he's propped up against. He should get rid of it, or cover it, but right now there's not much room for him to think about his vanity when all that matters is keeping Jayce alive. ]
Now you're going for the hallucination theory? After trying to prove me wrong in that orchard? [ He huffs the smallest of laughs. ] Very original, Jayce.
[ the fierce upheavals continue, and will continue— probably for hours. better this than unresponsiveness. at least this way, jayce's brain is coming alive again. harmed, tangled, but alive. pressure goes tighter around his chest and jayce tips his head back, viktor's shattered face and upside down image floating into doubles. every bit of him curls in tighter, into a painful ball in viktor's limbs. ]
If I believe it I'll— die, th-that's the last thing that happens in, in the cold, I start seeing things that're too good—
[ like mother bringing him tea and pastries. like slithery dragons. like viktor, in the flesh, hugging him until the heat sunk deep. ]
S-so I could give up— but I'm not. Not, not on you.
[ he can't go to sleep. he can't just stop. not when there's enough clarity to carry on these messy conversations that he may not even remember in full. but arms and legs around him gain more presence, more weight. jayce leans into it with everything he's got, clattering away like a jackhammer. ]
You didn't even give me the chance, t-to tell you— Not to do anything stupid and you— You do something stupid— [ — augh! jayce pounds viktor's chest with a blunt, lazy fist, but that quickly sinks down his torso and retreats into his middle, folded to try and retain the heat he's taking in. ] N-now you n-need to promise me something.
[ Viktor tries to angle him to a more comfortable position for his heaving, twisting him to the side so that he's in more of a fetal curl against Viktor's chest rather than sitting in his lap with his back to him. It gives him the space to spit up whatever he might need to, also, without it getting on either of them... hopefully. Water. He needs to get some water.
The mention of dying catches his attention again, focused to follow the logic and pleased to find that it's an easy thread to pick up. Hallucinating something at the end of life, something pleasant to ease the pain and make it more enticing to give up, makes a lot of sense. Viktor has been so close to death for so long that he's never experienced such things, but he thinks he could imagine Jayce there with him in the end. The lab, the glow of Hextech from the tabletops, the sound of furiously scribbling notes, the scent of soot from the forge lingering on Jayce's clothes.
He can imagine it right in front of him, pinpoints of blue light beginning to dance around them like that first night they'd floated through the air together after breaking a dozen rules. The scene swims into focus as he listens to Jayce, making Viktor wonder if he might be succumbing to hypothermia in his fight to keep Jayce warm. ]
How could I do anything stupid? I left all the stupid with you. [ He presses a hand to Jayce's forehead and is pleased to feel the skin warming to a fever. If promising him something it enough to keep him awake and with Viktor a little longer, then it's worth making the pledge regardless of whether or not Jayce will remember it when he's fully lucid again. ] What promise, Jayce?
[ jayce huffs— a wet, sorry excuse for a laugh, or it could've been, breathless and labored when he wasn't rattling like rain pelting metal. viktor could've been a compliant hallucination, accepting all of that but he doesn't— he instead knocks the breath right out of him and pricks a gentle ribbon of wet lining across jayce's lower eyelids. there's a shine in them now that sparkle not unlike the permanent mark viktor has left on jayce's forhead— the herald's most devout follower annointed with a diamond crown. he could say so much, he could even joke— even that will have to be left for a later hour. ]
Don't— Don't let me die, I'm not ready anymore— [ jayce avoids shaking his head, but he does gather himself close, further furling into viktor's comfort beneath the shawl and jacket that just couldn't warm him fast enough. he feels like shit but now it's viktor's turn to keep an impossible, weighted promise— jayce digs his face into viktor's solid bust and coils inward like a tight, vibrating spring. ] I already . . . Chose the, the perfect death— W-with you.
[ out of all the moments he had to give up, including the moments upon his balcony, viktor has in one jarring way or another always pulled him back. even at one of his lowest, jayce persevered— because of him. the worst of thoughts haunted him in the form of living in a world without viktor, desperately bringing viktor back because he couldn't fathom being in the same shoes. keeping his promise as terrible as it was, forced into cold sweat nightmares of taking that shot again and again, and viktor looking at him the same way, to the point that— he had to remember it differently. his smile, the welcoming curl . . . when the unconscious crept in, it was worse than being awake. ]
If, if you're not, there, I don't want it— You [ through a rigorous chatter of bone:] hear me? Not the world o-or the life or— I don't want it . . .
[ Later, Viktor will take a moment to marvel at the fingerprints he'd left on Jayce's forehead and mourn for what they signified. He'd almost assimilated the one mind that could question his, the wit that had made him smile, the memories that they shared and those that were private to Jayce. He'll repent, he'll spend the rest of his life repenting, but only when they're out of the woods with Jayce standing firmly on his own two feet.
Thinking of brushing the tears from Jayce's eyes, turning away from them instead, he squeezes his arms a little tighter around the precious cargo he cradles. ] You're not going to die here, Jayce.
[ He's interrupted by words that leave him feeling a void in his gut like he's been suckerpunched. The perfect death? Nothing about Jayce Talis leaving the world could be perfect, it should have been Viktor alone atoning for his mistakes. Jayce continues babbling, saying things that he probably doesn't mean, confused from the concussion and shivering and fever. He can promise not to let Jayce die, but the weight of being asked to be with him through death and life? It's too much, illogical and befuddling, and Viktor can't help thinking that Jayce wouldn't even be saying such things if he weren't in such a vulnerable state. His life is literally in Viktor's hands right now, of course he would beg to escape death. ]
I hear you. [ Peeling his hands away from Jayce for a moment, he reaches for a nearby piece of metal that had snapped into a sharp blade. It makes it easy to carve runes of warmth into both palms, dripping liquid that isn't quite blood as he puts his arms back around Jayce and presses the marks of power against him. ] Honestly, Jayce, you go to such pieces when I'm not around.
[ The magic leaves him feeling drained, and he tilts his head back against the wall with a sound like a tired sigh. His memory of their first night in the lab return, the light around them turning blue but soft, debris and objects around them gently beginning to float off towards the hole in the ceiling. ]
[ well. wasn't that true . . . but jayce lifts two fingers to that, pulling his lips apart to object, form a drunk comeback, had he not been shaking like a maraca or easily distracted by the movement, the messy actions, the weird blue lights that make his eyes sting and head hurt enough to squeeze them shut and attempt to turn his head away from it despite . . . the smell, for some reason, being a comfort. ]
What're you . . . [ it's not so bright that it hurts, not any more. what happens is that, he sees— things that are certainly not impossible but throws him back to a root of questions that have probably been answered by now. thank gods he's asking questions, in hindsight. ] . . . Are you using magic—?
[ Viktor hums a response, his single golden eye dimmed as if closed, body feeling sluggish now that the adrenaline has worn off and he can focus his energy on the warmth radiating from both of his palms. If he has to, he'll carve runes all over his body to keep Jayce from shivering to death, to stave off the memories of a blizzard or a dank pit. ]
It's not the arcane. [ His first instinct to to reassure Jayce that there's nothing of the herald left in him, just machine now that he's cut off from their world. That doesn't mean he hasn't been learning some things about himself, listening to the whispers to use his body as a canvas for the arcane runes that he'd spent so many years learning. They come more easily to him now, the shape of light and warmth and water. ] It's something about this place...
[ He's not aware of the memory recreating itself around them, the bookshelves swimming into blurry view at the edges or the device glowing bright in the center or the gears orbiting it. ]
[ heat shakes the nips of frost within him away. while it was certain and biological for jayce to continue shaking for a little while longer (more than an hour in and now was the first time his shiver has tapered off before restarting again; he's getting there, the intensity lifting), he's got a warmer tint to his cheeks. a deep red if they weren't in this poorly lit . . .
office? it's not his— or, they had been in here once. when it was either do crime and get it right or not and lose it all. it was a difficult thread of memory to track down, bust finds it in his distractions. enough to smile, lazy, lightweight. nostalgic. jayce pulls at one of viktor's arms to peer around them, his eyes heavy as he does, flinching at the subtle pounding behind his eyes and pulsing at his temples. ]
[ With the warmth returning to Jayce, he makes a more comfortable armful in the cradle of Viktor's lap. No longer is he a nearly dead hunk of cold flesh, he's shivering and muttering and filling with life more and more by the minute. The latest words cause some alarm, though, because something is wrong if he's slipping back into hallucinations.
When Viktor focuses on his surroundings again, he realizes it's either a shared hallucination, or something else. He recognizes the setting immediately, having worked there so long as an assistant and then one fateful night, as an accomplice to something insane and magical. It's easy to imagine their bodies floating there in the room above, wide grins on their faces as they laughed in amazement and wonder at the magic around them as well as their own accomplishment. ]
I miss those days. [ He reaches a hand out to poke at a gear slowly drifting past them, the rune on his palm glowing a dull warm red before he tucks it back into the makeshift cocoon around Jayce. ] We were so innocent and naive back then.
[ if only jayce could truly enjoy the extent of this safe haven . . . well. perhaps tomorrow, when he isn't trying his best to slink back down in a way to doesn't bother his head or upsets his stomach. as his core temperature rises, feeble and sluggish in ascension, jayce contests a bit— not at the words, but at the contradictory sensations of wanting to rest and being far too uncomfortable and cold to find a worthy position. he has no choice but to now rest there, vibrating against viktor, his hands and his layers.
if he could follow things with his rolling eyes, it was alright— even if his head was killing him. even when he tested the tacky dryness of his lips and felt ample enough want to wet his gums. a cog spins without gravity and jayce remembers smiling. he remembers seeing viktor's grin, brighter than he'd ever seen it. it just keeps repeating behind the buzz of his vision, over and over. had he been more coherent, jayce would've long since found reason to dote on viktor's runic scribbling. he wasn't there the first time he did it to himself and now . . .
right in front of him, he couldn't muster the sharp attention span. he barely even saw. he's too busy, head in the clouds while the migraines ground him.
what was something he missed, other than agreeing? ]
I miss your smile.
[ he attempts a view without moving too much, which hadn't been impossible with viktor sustaining his heat from behind— he can't really see the smile anymore, just . . . a broken rift of hollow fractals under the husk of his new skin. maybe he could still smile . . . sideways? he still has lips, it's just split down the middle. ]
[ If Viktor still had the ability, he would surely be blushing right now. His smile was something rare in recent times, lost beneath pain and fear and obsession. He can remember when it was much more freely shared with Jayce in the lab, whether because of something actually humorous or trying to laugh through a failure. Jayce has always been the one to smile the most between the two of them, however, his wide, bright grin that seemed contagious to everyone around him. It made him the perfect Man of Progress, the face of Hextech, the golden boy who could get people on their side.
Sighing, he tilts his head to look down at Jayce with his good eye, partially to acknowledge him looking and partially just to hide the broken side of his face. ] I'm sorry, Jayce. I haven't had much to smile about.
[ Gazing down at Jayce makes it obvious how chapped his lips are, looking bad enough to crack, and it's a shocking reminder that he's probably dehydrated. Viktor withdraws both of his hands, careful to keep the shawl tightly in place and drape Jayce's coat over him to keep him as warm as possible. ]
You need water. [ The rune for it is already in his mind, but he needs a vessel to hold it long enough to allow Jayce to drink. Maybe he could manifest it right into his mouth, but with the powers still being new, he doesn't want to risk drowning him after all he's been through.
Looking around, his eyes catch on a box on the bottom shelf of a nearby storage rack, and it clicks together that they're in the basement of whatever school Jayce had stumbled into. Viktor reaches, leaning sideways some to do it, but is careful not to move too quickly in case is jostles Jayce. Inside the box is a lot of broken crap, but there's one intact graduated cylinder that feels like finding the holy grail. ]
Can you drink? [ He settles back into place and cuts another rune into his skin, this time on the back of his knuckles, pointing his first two fingers into the mouth of the cylinder to begin filling it with water. ] You'll need to take small sips.
[ jayce says something to retort when it came to smiles, but it's something that sounds more like gibberish than piltovian, on top of mildly defensive and whiny. hello? your good reason is right here. he thinks he says it loud enough in his head and wears the biggest jutted lower lip known to mankind because of it. or maybe that's also because of the uninterrupted headache. not much to smile about. he'll give you something to smile about.
there's part of him that perks up to the vitality of water. he hasn't had something clean for days, anything that's found its way down his throat has been murky, or scooped up from the snow on the ground. a miracle that he somehow hasn't gotten ill with some kind of poisoning. still, jayce waits, complaining about the movement as little as it was, closing his eyes for a moment and wishing he could rest— only to startle awake from a drift at viktor's question. trembles resume. ]
I don't . . . I dunno. [ but he could try. he should try, he thinks, eventually drifting his attention to a floating cog and pieces of viktor's splintered cane, pulling fabric over him tight as he possibly could, up to his neck, until jayce's brows form a heavy kink over the bridge of his nose and fixates a squint on viktor's hands, watching water just. happening. ] —Why're you a magician?
If you have the energy to pout, you have the energy to drink. [ He can't believe that Jayce is being so unintentionally playful now that he's a step back from the brink of death. It's childish but far more preferrable to the earlier version of him that had been asking Viktor to make promises about staying with him through life or death. That had been a lot to deal with, even if it had been a roundabout way to plea for survival.
The question is valid, but the phrasing makes Viktor chuckle all the same. The word "magician" evokes such a strong image for him—black suit, top hat, magic wand, a ridiculously big cape—that he wonders if Jayce didn't mean something more akin to "mage" or "wizard" when he'd spoken. ]
I can conjure simple things with runes. [ It's nothing compared to the power he'd had before, but it's been helpful for survival so far. Light, water, fire if he can get Jayce stable long enough to pull together some kindling. So far, the only failed experiment has been with food—it drains as much energy to create something edible as he would gain back through the calories. There's a law of equivalent exchange at play, and he can feel himself growing weaker the more he draws on his energy to keep Jayce alive.
All of that can be explained later, somewhere warmer and safer. For now, he lifts the cylinder to Jayce's mouth and tilts it until the water laps at his bottom lip. ] Here, drink.
[ huh! he's just being left out of things again, is he! unaware of his own very (un)serious frowning, to show that he does not approve of this lack of earlier knowledge, jayce groans and submits to the cup shutting him up. he's terribly uncoordinated, knitting his brows tightly as he tries to slurp up the wetness, hydrating his gums first and then his throat with puckered lips and one gulp too many. he stops just to retort with a declining complaint: ]
I thought we were partners . . .
[ he is groggily distraught but should forget about it within the next five minutes. once he doesn't seem to want more, jayce grimaces and tries to turn away from the canister. that reminds him. ]
I need, need to tell you something, Y— you won't believe what I saw, but you need to promise, [ the shivering makes his words stop, chatter, reset, ] promise you'll believe me.
[ he's feverish, sweaty, eyes too half lidded to claim clarity— but at least the warmth continues to climb. ]
It's a recent development, Jayce. [ Plus there was the whole thing about avoiding him, not wanting to draw things out with conversation through the network of minds here. If he was going to cut Jayce off, he was going to do it cold turkey, but obviously that didn't work out when he came running at the first sign of Jayce being in trouble. It's not as if he would let him die just to maintain his stubbornness streak.
The pouty mention of being partners makes Viktor go quiet, not earning a bitter laugh nor a hum of agreement. They had been partners in so much, and then they'd both tossed it aside at alternating times. He still thinks about how he'd asked Jayce to be his partner in the glorious evolution only to have disgusted rage spat back at him. It had all but pushed Jayce into Mel's arms once again, and even if Viktor sees now that his plans for humanity had been wrong, he can't help the wounded pride he'd walked away with after than encounter. ]
Are we? [ It's a genuine question, voice soft and more human than it's sounded since he woke up here. Jayce had said at the end—what Viktor had thought was the end—that all he wanted was his partner back, but was that even possible? They were both changed men, literally and figuratively, and even with the affection between them it's hard to know if that would be enough to sustain another partnership.
He ruminates on the topic as Jayce drinks, focusing on giving him small sips that wouldn't overwhelm him or his stomach. When he denies the rest, Viktor sets it aside on the ground for later, already well aware that wasting food and water would be foolish.
Almost missing when Jayce was silently fighting for his life, Viktor hums at the babbling. It's likely to be a recounted hallucination, but if it keeps Jayce awake to talk about it, Viktor can listen and perpetuate the conversation for the sake of Jayce's brain. ] What did you see?
[ if he says so, it's probably true. jayce doesn't question it further at least, and as expected— he no longer pouts or looks disapproving of something. anything. that ship has sailed.
jayce hums a simple response to viktor's first question: uh-huh, almost in a sluggish, drawn out duh tone as if the opposite thought were just a giant impossibility. because it was. and no, he will not elaborate further. for now. not enough synapsis for that. ]
A dragon. [ he points at the incredibly tall mound of broken metal chairs and furnitures— or at least he thinks he is. he's off his mark by a few feet to the right. his stomach coils into a noise that rises low in his throat. he pays no mind to it, other than exhaling out a quiet ugh that he ignores in favor of filling up the silence rather than becoming part of it. he is soon to regret this poor decision. ] A long, snake— dragon, thing. This place has, [ urp, shiver, ] dragons.
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jayce attempts to shed himself of his accessories, succeeds only half-way before his vision blurs and his stomach lurches. attempting to right himself is what does it— he expels bile, and is left another huffing mess right next to it, doing his best to at the very least turn away from the acrid stench of it. he's on his back, now. looks up, sees the fogged splinters of wood he fell through and feels the hot wetness of blood down the side of his face, the scrapes through his pants, and the rashes that have spotted his skin all over.
how long has he been here—?
jayce tries not to move during the first hour or so, but he does try to stay awake. he counts. loses count. counts backwards, stops at six. he awakens from another brief slumber with dust caking his lips, and goes right back to uncontrollable tremors. he tries to move another time— the pain spikes, he nearly vomits again, and decides he should keep still to avoid losing even more fluids. at least the rashes stopped itching (no, he's just shivering too much for minimal heat to even regard the prickling).
the cold crawls into his bones and makes nests in his marrow as an hour becomes far more. his blistered knuckles, open and wounded from his bouts of anger, burn angry with bright red frostnip, his fingers curl tight into his palms just as much as the rest of him curls to fight the temperature. at the very least, he attempts turning when the side against the floor numbs. i'm not going to die here, he tells himself as he pulls his battle jacket around his middle tighter, closing the straps and buckles despite the sweat damp scarf around his neck. he can't tell how much time it's been, only that he's certain he's blinked only a few times during, which meant its only been a few minutes— but that's wrong, and jayce clearly has lost all sense of tracking anything accurately at all when the later half of the day has grazed by. i've walked through worse. i'll be fine. i just need to . . . stop spinning. then i could look for a way out.
the conditions, including jayce's, worsen. the building's insulation could only stave hypothermia off an inert body for so long. it's been long enough that his body has diminished the wild quaking to keep warm— it's stopped trying by the time his sweat drenched frame has begun to feel too stiff, but it wasn't as if jayce had realized it.
if there was a voice echoing from within the building, jayce only heard a muffled yawn of pressure against his ear drums. he's been hearing things as is— pops and ringing, buzzing noise that moved with the shadows. darkness moved at some point, too. he thought he saw a beast earlier, a giant lizard that just stared at him from the mounds of metal he'd fallen onto (no one is going to believe him when he says he saw a dragon. perfect!). heimerdinger and his stupid porro trudged around like penguins. looks like you're in a bit of a pickled plum, my boy. ugh. don't remind him. his mother bringing him tea and promising pastries later— he just needed to drink, and melt in her arms. if there was some sort of door, he couldn't get to it, and even if he could— it was locked. with his breathing beginning to slow and slim down the visible puffs of it, a faux heat seeps under his layers, has him peeling away at his scarf, opening his jacket and trying to shrug out of it with no complete success, tricks jayce into pulling away at his gloves too, where his fingers have gone numb underneathe.
jayce groans slurred words in the dark; his mother returns, with the promised pastries she'd got him for progress day and a kiss against his jeweled forehead, the only shimmer in the dark he couldn't even see. he felt like a boy again, floating on a cloud, in his bed. tea did the trick, mom. 'm burning up. ]
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No, not eyes. A gilded mask.
Bursting into action, he leaves the room and returns to a set of stairs he'd passed earlier, taking them down a floor and then retracing his steps from above to bring him back to the scene below. He spots the mask immediately, recognizing it from that strange dream they had shared, vague memories of an orchard and velvet skin and astral colors. Feeling as though he would blush if he still had the ability to, Viktor shakes his head to focus on the task at hand. He's close, Jayce had been here, and the holes in the floor make his stomach plummet with the thought of Jayce having done the same. ]
I'm coming for you. [ He says it to reassure them both, hoping he'll get a response from Jayce to soothe away his own worries of what he'll find at the bottom of this wreckage. A quick survey of another hole in this floor brings him back to the stairs which he follows down and down until he can't go any farther. It brings him to another floor with another Jayce sized hole and no obvious way down, no more stairs that he can see immediately.
Swearing under his breath, he perches delicately on the edge of the splintered flooring and lowers his glowing hand down, casting light below until he spots him. He's not huddled up despite the cold, laying there with his jacket and scarf discarded, looking small and vulnerable to the shadows surrounding him. ]
Jayce! [ Viktor doesn't think any further before scrambling down into the hole, holding onto the edge of it with one hand as he lowers himself onto the wreckage of metal shelving and empty boxes below. When he gets to Jayce, sliding to his knees next to him, it's a miracle to find he wasn't impaled by something on his descent through the building. That's about the end of his good luck, though, because his skin is icy cold and his brace looks shot to hell. ]
Jayce, can you hear me? [ Pulling the runic shawl from around his shoulders, Viktor is careful to wrap it around Jayce as tightly as possible, bundling him up as he lifts him from the floor to cover him completely. That's when he sees the blood on his head, sticky and already browning from oxidation, evidence of a head wound that he might have gotten on the way down through the building or the final blow at the bottom. Viktor's movements turn gentler, less frantic but no less hurried. If Jayce has a concussion, the cold may not be their biggest concern. ]
I need you to stay awake. [ He snatches up Jayce's discarded jacket and scarf before pulling him away from the center of the room, finding a wall more sheltered from air currents where they can huddle together. Sitting down in the corner, he pulls Jayce into his lap, wishing he could provide any body heat rather than the tepid hum of his living metal skin. It's better than the cold floor, at least, and drawing Jayce's coat over them both at least creates a bit of a tent-like shelter. The important thing is the shawl which Viktor urges to warm the frigid skin beneath it. ] Jayce, are you with me?
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Pas . . . tries . . .
[ they go well with tea. speaking of . . . what did she put in the tea? jayce is so groggy he looks and sounds drunk off an entire barrel. there's no resistance in being moved, or rather— there's significant delay in any of it, rigid limbs twitching with lazy sway. ]
Mom, [ the slurred starts and ends of a negative whine, perhaps a no at first, a stop that doesn't quiet lift off as jayce squirms under the layers and against the sturdy frame of bolts and hexmatter behind him. nothing he does is actually successful though, he barely has the strength to lift himself up without dizziness making his eyes flutter back and spin his world around again, to the point that if it weren't for viktor propping him up, he'd slant stiff right back into the tiled floors. instead, where he leans back into is viktor, groaning through the pain splitting into his head and nearly making him ill again— if it weren't for the cold taking priority. ] too hot.
[ it may take a bit, to truly warm up, but what he needed was already there; now it was patience, and prayer that jayce still had fight while the rest of him was failing. ]
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The concussion is another issue to contend with. Viktor doesn't want to push Jayce's mind too hard, but he needs to keep him awake for fear he may slip into sleep and never wake up. Calm, he has to stay calm, be warm and steady and get Jayce to the point that they can get out of here together. ]
That's your fever, remember? [ He pulls Jayce tighter against his chest as he relaxes backwards, careful to keep the coat over his head but not close enough to smother him. ] What kind of pastries would you like?
[ He can feel silly about this later and let the guilt sink in once Jayce is out of the woods with his dueling conditions. Of course Viktor shouldn't have let him alone in a dangerous place like this, but he'd been so wrapped up in selfish self-loathing that it had seemed like the best options at the time. If Jayce hadn't been stubborn about chasing after him, maybe he would have been safe elsewhere. Regardless, now Viktor shall be his willing keeper.
Hours of exposure. Concussed head. Broken leg brace. Surely other bumps and scraps earns from his rapid decent. Viktor could make a fire, but it would require leaving Jayce alone long enough to gather wood to burn, and in these late stages of hypothermia, he knows he can't rush the heat back into Jayce's body. ]
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this is going to be an embarrassing event to recall. jayce talis, brilliant inventor gone rugged: falls down not once in a hole all on his own, but twice. ]
I'll just, ugh, [ he makes a noise from within, almost a lurch of his empty stomach becoming aggravated that the blurred edges of his vision were still angling onto twisting axis', ] get sick, again.
[ he waves it off a little too dramatically; murmurs turn into delicate whispers as jayce slumps— awake, but barely. breathing, but shallow. hair sticks to his temple in caked threads by sweat and blood. his arms fall under the covers as he inebratedly complains about his head, casting his palms upon the spindly lengths of viktor's legs. knees? what he says next is flat, comedic, out of context. something's not right (there are a very many things that aren't right, right now). ]
You did something, [ it's the first time that he attempts to tilt his head upwards and get a look— but through his hazel gold eyes not a sound thought sits behind the shine; only disjointed dreams, born of fever, head trauma and the cold in his bones being forcibly pried out of him. the replacement of warmth is gradual and so is jayce's sluggish speech, but eventually he does successfully end that thought with an incredulous: ] to my chair.
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You can eat when you feel better. [ That's another thing he's going to need to figure out, how to get food and water for Jayce once he's recovered. If they can find a door out of this place and some alternate stairs back up to the main floor, they can leave together, but otherwise their escape will have to wait until Jayce can climb back out of the hole with Viktor.
All of this mental calculus is starting to make Viktor's head ache, the cold far from helpful even if his body seems to be more tolerant of it than a human one. Small blessings, to be stuck in this form that at least works better than his original one, but still powerless in comparison. Jayce's words pull Viktor from his silent reverie, and if it weren't the sign that he was still hallucinating, it would probably make him laugh. ]
Sorry, I had to improvise. Your chair is safe and sound.
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the uncomfortable heat lingers and jayce tosses this way and that only a few times in his partial silences to groan about it. the kind that complains, and that's if he isn't whispering nonsense— it's only past an hour or so later that jayce begins to shiver again, fingers moving more independently. it's slow, on and off, comes and goes; his hushes become audible words, although disconnected: i have to, vik, where's, viktor, stupid, viktor, find viktor— ]
He's still out there . . . [ it's obvious that jayce is not going to lift himself up with success, not with his brace busted and certainly not with the onset of vertigo. the metal clinks and scrapes against the floor when he kicks his legs out anyway, his boot's lowrise heels scraping away at their seats and caged by viktor's hold enough that jayce's efforts collapse against his partner's chest. with his cheek pressed against the herald's elongated bicep, he blinks more times than necessary, feels his eyes threaten to roll back before strain contracts his muscles, gets him to scrunch his nose, squeeze his eyes— he forces a look up. his vision has a hard time focusing, and an even longer time to make the connection to recognition. ] Where's—
[ jayce's fingers curl around viktor's arm, a steadying grip as he takes deeper breaths, exhales through a lightheaded whirl around his eyes just keep doing, and closing them just makes his gut feel worse like he's being flipped around like a damn pancake. his second attempt, to peer through the dancing double-imagery until it focuses and an incredibly scrunched nose garners a single worded question; the same one he had when he had woken up in the city, when he had woken up every day from minute-rests and in this basement— ]
Viktor—?
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I'm here. [ Viktor tightens his arms around Jayce as he attempts to move, keeping him in place until he gives up and they can both relax again. It keeps his body active, at least, which is probably a good thing because otherwise he might freeze in the position he's in, immortalized as Jayce's careful cage.
Looking down at Jayce, single eye bright in the dimness since he'd allowed the light in his palm to go out, he wishes he could smile or give some other kind of reassuring expression to greet the recognition that comes. Or maybe, maybe Jayce is being hopeful, and when he fully regains his senses, he'll be horrified to see Viktor as he is in reality. ]
It's me. [ Viktor's voice is soft, sad, sounding more human and less metallic as it reaches for Jayce through the Murmur connecting him. He can't imagine how he would communicate if they'd ended up anywhere else, lacking the arcane power to project his voice as well as a local network that enables him to do something similar. He won't think about it, won't think about anything but keeping Jayce warm and safe. ] Are you with me now?
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[ jayce's breathing picks up— he feels ill from jostling around, like he'd disgorge more fluids at any moment and leans his head forward, for drool to follow into his beard and spat on the floor to force both the nausea as much as the nasty taste out. i'm gonna throw up, but nothing comes beyond the heaving prior to an episode. he can't quite . . . make out the other's face, fractured honeycombs of the anomaly's structure suppressing the true shape of his memory left punctured. he doesn't try again with the feeling so fresh, but he does cling— and cling even harsher to viktor he does, when the next tremble comes fullbody as much as violently. the cold seeps in again like a phantom haunting an estate. everything hurts. he's exhausted his muscles and yet they can once again prioritize the action of generating more heat. his head splits from the inside, pounds where the skin has lacerated and crusted over with still sticky scabbing.
his teeth chatter like drum rolls. jayce's fingers and toes prickle like thousands of pinprick needles plunging into flesh. ]
I-I'm dying, Viktor—
[ that may certainly not be the case, if anything jayce was being snatched away from the brink, but gods, it feels like it. it feels like everything is wrong with him. only a partial delusion— the blow to his head was unkind. the brilliance of his mind has scattered and sat confused in its inflamed encasing by now. wounds felt raw, screaming, from the red-crude knuckles to the bruises on his neck, legs, body and odd rashes that felt like a plague waiting to burst. the pinkness to his extremeties replaces the worrying paleness. ]
I think I, I got something— [ his voice waves through the tremors in unbound stammers, that he can only try to speed through to make listening to himself possible— but his jaws are locked tight. he can't push beyond the stark slurring. the brain . . . does this sort of thing before it burns out for good, doesn't it? jayce's brows crease together tightly, now out of the dolor that fear brought with it. ] You're not real. That's—
[ too much shaking. it's like his body has just now realized its holder's redusal to drop dead from the caved floors above. ]
A lie, my head's— Lying.
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Rubbing a hand against his back, the touch gentle for fear of bruising more skin if he's too heavy-handed, he tucks the shawl more tightly around Jayce's torso and makes sure his hands stay firmly inside the warmth being generated for him. ]
You're not dying. [ Viktor says it like a fact, like a law of physics, a fact of nature. ] I won't let you.
[ The next words make his chest ache as if his breath had been stollen away. Was it so hard to believe that he could be here? Could be the one that found Jayce and bundled him up for warmth, wrapped himself around him like a shield? He knows that he'd been the one to leave in the first place, knows that Jayce believes him to be stubborn because it's the truth, but to have his presence be unbelievable...
It's probably his appearance. The last time he'd seen Jayce, they'd been in the dreamscape together, Viktor's human body returned to him minus its imperfections. Jayce should have guessed that reality wouldn't be so kind, that Viktor's mechanical body would follow him here like a curse he'd placed upon himself. He can feel his dead third arm hanging behind him, digging in between his back and the wall he's propped up against. He should get rid of it, or cover it, but right now there's not much room for him to think about his vanity when all that matters is keeping Jayce alive. ]
Now you're going for the hallucination theory? After trying to prove me wrong in that orchard? [ He huffs the smallest of laughs. ] Very original, Jayce.
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[ the fierce upheavals continue, and will continue— probably for hours. better this than unresponsiveness. at least this way, jayce's brain is coming alive again. harmed, tangled, but alive. pressure goes tighter around his chest and jayce tips his head back, viktor's shattered face and upside down image floating into doubles. every bit of him curls in tighter, into a painful ball in viktor's limbs. ]
If I believe it I'll— die, th-that's the last thing that happens in, in the cold, I start seeing things that're too good—
[ like mother bringing him tea and pastries. like slithery dragons. like viktor, in the flesh, hugging him until the heat sunk deep. ]
S-so I could give up— but I'm not. Not, not on you.
[ he can't go to sleep. he can't just stop. not when there's enough clarity to carry on these messy conversations that he may not even remember in full. but arms and legs around him gain more presence, more weight. jayce leans into it with everything he's got, clattering away like a jackhammer. ]
You didn't even give me the chance, t-to tell you— Not to do anything stupid and you— You do something stupid— [ — augh! jayce pounds viktor's chest with a blunt, lazy fist, but that quickly sinks down his torso and retreats into his middle, folded to try and retain the heat he's taking in. ] N-now you n-need to promise me something.
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The mention of dying catches his attention again, focused to follow the logic and pleased to find that it's an easy thread to pick up. Hallucinating something at the end of life, something pleasant to ease the pain and make it more enticing to give up, makes a lot of sense. Viktor has been so close to death for so long that he's never experienced such things, but he thinks he could imagine Jayce there with him in the end. The lab, the glow of Hextech from the tabletops, the sound of furiously scribbling notes, the scent of soot from the forge lingering on Jayce's clothes.
He can imagine it right in front of him, pinpoints of blue light beginning to dance around them like that first night they'd floated through the air together after breaking a dozen rules. The scene swims into focus as he listens to Jayce, making Viktor wonder if he might be succumbing to hypothermia in his fight to keep Jayce warm. ]
How could I do anything stupid? I left all the stupid with you. [ He presses a hand to Jayce's forehead and is pleased to feel the skin warming to a fever. If promising him something it enough to keep him awake and with Viktor a little longer, then it's worth making the pledge regardless of whether or not Jayce will remember it when he's fully lucid again. ] What promise, Jayce?
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Don't— Don't let me die, I'm not ready anymore— [ jayce avoids shaking his head, but he does gather himself close, further furling into viktor's comfort beneath the shawl and jacket that just couldn't warm him fast enough. he feels like shit but now it's viktor's turn to keep an impossible, weighted promise— jayce digs his face into viktor's solid bust and coils inward like a tight, vibrating spring. ] I already . . . Chose the, the perfect death— W-with you.
[ out of all the moments he had to give up, including the moments upon his balcony, viktor has in one jarring way or another always pulled him back. even at one of his lowest, jayce persevered— because of him. the worst of thoughts haunted him in the form of living in a world without viktor, desperately bringing viktor back because he couldn't fathom being in the same shoes. keeping his promise as terrible as it was, forced into cold sweat nightmares of taking that shot again and again, and viktor looking at him the same way, to the point that— he had to remember it differently. his smile, the welcoming curl . . . when the unconscious crept in, it was worse than being awake. ]
If, if you're not, there, I don't want it— You [ through a rigorous chatter of bone:] hear me? Not the world o-or the life or— I don't want it . . .
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Thinking of brushing the tears from Jayce's eyes, turning away from them instead, he squeezes his arms a little tighter around the precious cargo he cradles. ] You're not going to die here, Jayce.
[ He's interrupted by words that leave him feeling a void in his gut like he's been suckerpunched. The perfect death? Nothing about Jayce Talis leaving the world could be perfect, it should have been Viktor alone atoning for his mistakes. Jayce continues babbling, saying things that he probably doesn't mean, confused from the concussion and shivering and fever. He can promise not to let Jayce die, but the weight of being asked to be with him through death and life? It's too much, illogical and befuddling, and Viktor can't help thinking that Jayce wouldn't even be saying such things if he weren't in such a vulnerable state. His life is literally in Viktor's hands right now, of course he would beg to escape death. ]
I hear you. [ Peeling his hands away from Jayce for a moment, he reaches for a nearby piece of metal that had snapped into a sharp blade. It makes it easy to carve runes of warmth into both palms, dripping liquid that isn't quite blood as he puts his arms back around Jayce and presses the marks of power against him. ] Honestly, Jayce, you go to such pieces when I'm not around.
[ The magic leaves him feeling drained, and he tilts his head back against the wall with a sound like a tired sigh. His memory of their first night in the lab return, the light around them turning blue but soft, debris and objects around them gently beginning to float off towards the hole in the ceiling. ]
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What're you . . . [ it's not so bright that it hurts, not any more. what happens is that, he sees— things that are certainly not impossible but throws him back to a root of questions that have probably been answered by now. thank gods he's asking questions, in hindsight. ] . . . Are you using magic—?
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It's not the arcane. [ His first instinct to to reassure Jayce that there's nothing of the herald left in him, just machine now that he's cut off from their world. That doesn't mean he hasn't been learning some things about himself, listening to the whispers to use his body as a canvas for the arcane runes that he'd spent so many years learning. They come more easily to him now, the shape of light and warmth and water. ] It's something about this place...
[ He's not aware of the memory recreating itself around them, the bookshelves swimming into blurry view at the edges or the device glowing bright in the center or the gears orbiting it. ]
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office? it's not his— or, they had been in here once. when it was either do crime and get it right or not and lose it all. it was a difficult thread of memory to track down, bust finds it in his distractions. enough to smile, lazy, lightweight. nostalgic. jayce pulls at one of viktor's arms to peer around them, his eyes heavy as he does, flinching at the subtle pounding behind his eyes and pulsing at his temples. ]
We're . . . Home.
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When Viktor focuses on his surroundings again, he realizes it's either a shared hallucination, or something else. He recognizes the setting immediately, having worked there so long as an assistant and then one fateful night, as an accomplice to something insane and magical. It's easy to imagine their bodies floating there in the room above, wide grins on their faces as they laughed in amazement and wonder at the magic around them as well as their own accomplishment. ]
I miss those days. [ He reaches a hand out to poke at a gear slowly drifting past them, the rune on his palm glowing a dull warm red before he tucks it back into the makeshift cocoon around Jayce. ] We were so innocent and naive back then.
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if he could follow things with his rolling eyes, it was alright— even if his head was killing him. even when he tested the tacky dryness of his lips and felt ample enough want to wet his gums. a cog spins without gravity and jayce remembers smiling. he remembers seeing viktor's grin, brighter than he'd ever seen it. it just keeps repeating behind the buzz of his vision, over and over. had he been more coherent, jayce would've long since found reason to dote on viktor's runic scribbling. he wasn't there the first time he did it to himself and now . . .
right in front of him, he couldn't muster the sharp attention span. he barely even saw. he's too busy, head in the clouds while the migraines ground him.
what was something he missed, other than agreeing? ]
I miss your smile.
[ he attempts a view without moving too much, which hadn't been impossible with viktor sustaining his heat from behind— he can't really see the smile anymore, just . . . a broken rift of hollow fractals under the husk of his new skin. maybe he could still smile . . . sideways? he still has lips, it's just split down the middle. ]
Looks . . . Good, on you.
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Sighing, he tilts his head to look down at Jayce with his good eye, partially to acknowledge him looking and partially just to hide the broken side of his face. ] I'm sorry, Jayce. I haven't had much to smile about.
[ Gazing down at Jayce makes it obvious how chapped his lips are, looking bad enough to crack, and it's a shocking reminder that he's probably dehydrated. Viktor withdraws both of his hands, careful to keep the shawl tightly in place and drape Jayce's coat over him to keep him as warm as possible. ]
You need water. [ The rune for it is already in his mind, but he needs a vessel to hold it long enough to allow Jayce to drink. Maybe he could manifest it right into his mouth, but with the powers still being new, he doesn't want to risk drowning him after all he's been through.
Looking around, his eyes catch on a box on the bottom shelf of a nearby storage rack, and it clicks together that they're in the basement of whatever school Jayce had stumbled into. Viktor reaches, leaning sideways some to do it, but is careful not to move too quickly in case is jostles Jayce. Inside the box is a lot of broken crap, but there's one intact graduated cylinder that feels like finding the holy grail. ]
Can you drink? [ He settles back into place and cuts another rune into his skin, this time on the back of his knuckles, pointing his first two fingers into the mouth of the cylinder to begin filling it with water. ] You'll need to take small sips.
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there's part of him that perks up to the vitality of water. he hasn't had something clean for days, anything that's found its way down his throat has been murky, or scooped up from the snow on the ground. a miracle that he somehow hasn't gotten ill with some kind of poisoning. still, jayce waits, complaining about the movement as little as it was, closing his eyes for a moment and wishing he could rest— only to startle awake from a drift at viktor's question. trembles resume. ]
I don't . . . I dunno. [ but he could try. he should try, he thinks, eventually drifting his attention to a floating cog and pieces of viktor's splintered cane, pulling fabric over him tight as he possibly could, up to his neck, until jayce's brows form a heavy kink over the bridge of his nose and fixates a squint on viktor's hands, watching water just. happening. ] —Why're you a magician?
[ bro was flabbergasted. ]
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The question is valid, but the phrasing makes Viktor chuckle all the same. The word "magician" evokes such a strong image for him—black suit, top hat, magic wand, a ridiculously big cape—that he wonders if Jayce didn't mean something more akin to "mage" or "wizard" when he'd spoken. ]
I can conjure simple things with runes. [ It's nothing compared to the power he'd had before, but it's been helpful for survival so far. Light, water, fire if he can get Jayce stable long enough to pull together some kindling. So far, the only failed experiment has been with food—it drains as much energy to create something edible as he would gain back through the calories. There's a law of equivalent exchange at play, and he can feel himself growing weaker the more he draws on his energy to keep Jayce alive.
All of that can be explained later, somewhere warmer and safer. For now, he lifts the cylinder to Jayce's mouth and tilts it until the water laps at his bottom lip. ] Here, drink.
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[ huh! he's just being left out of things again, is he! unaware of his own very (un)serious frowning, to show that he does not approve of this lack of earlier knowledge, jayce groans and submits to the cup shutting him up. he's terribly uncoordinated, knitting his brows tightly as he tries to slurp up the wetness, hydrating his gums first and then his throat with puckered lips and one gulp too many. he stops just to retort with a declining complaint: ]
I thought we were partners . . .
[ he is groggily distraught but should forget about it within the next five minutes. once he doesn't seem to want more, jayce grimaces and tries to turn away from the canister. that reminds him. ]
I need, need to tell you something, Y— you won't believe what I saw, but you need to promise, [ the shivering makes his words stop, chatter, reset, ] promise you'll believe me.
[ he's feverish, sweaty, eyes too half lidded to claim clarity— but at least the warmth continues to climb. ]
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The pouty mention of being partners makes Viktor go quiet, not earning a bitter laugh nor a hum of agreement. They had been partners in so much, and then they'd both tossed it aside at alternating times. He still thinks about how he'd asked Jayce to be his partner in the glorious evolution only to have disgusted rage spat back at him. It had all but pushed Jayce into Mel's arms once again, and even if Viktor sees now that his plans for humanity had been wrong, he can't help the wounded pride he'd walked away with after than encounter. ]
Are we? [ It's a genuine question, voice soft and more human than it's sounded since he woke up here. Jayce had said at the end—what Viktor had thought was the end—that all he wanted was his partner back, but was that even possible? They were both changed men, literally and figuratively, and even with the affection between them it's hard to know if that would be enough to sustain another partnership.
He ruminates on the topic as Jayce drinks, focusing on giving him small sips that wouldn't overwhelm him or his stomach. When he denies the rest, Viktor sets it aside on the ground for later, already well aware that wasting food and water would be foolish.
Almost missing when Jayce was silently fighting for his life, Viktor hums at the babbling. It's likely to be a recounted hallucination, but if it keeps Jayce awake to talk about it, Viktor can listen and perpetuate the conversation for the sake of Jayce's brain. ] What did you see?
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jayce hums a simple response to viktor's first question: uh-huh, almost in a sluggish, drawn out duh tone as if the opposite thought were just a giant impossibility. because it was. and no, he will not elaborate further. for now. not enough synapsis for that. ]
A dragon. [ he points at the incredibly tall mound of broken metal chairs and furnitures— or at least he thinks he is. he's off his mark by a few feet to the right. his stomach coils into a noise that rises low in his throat. he pays no mind to it, other than exhaling out a quiet ugh that he ignores in favor of filling up the silence rather than becoming part of it. he is soon to regret this poor decision. ] A long, snake— dragon, thing. This place has, [ urp, shiver, ] dragons.
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cw: emeto
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cw: suicide mention
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shakes my fists WHERE not HERE
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and that's a wrap!