ar_cane | somnia

Th-that was, different—

[ 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. ]

We're . . . Home.

[ 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. ]

Looks . . . Good, on you.

[ 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?

[ bro was flabbergasted. ]

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.

You never told me that—

[ 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.

[ Of the many things he expects Jayce to say, a dragon is probably one of the very last on the list. Viktor has seen some strange animals here, sure, but they were all mutated or differently evolved versions of creatures that he was familiar with—dragons are something new entirely. ]

And where did you see this dragon? [ He's not doubting Jayce off the bat, but he is taking into account the concussion and hypothermia and probably general poor health that comes with drinking dirty water and eating gods know what kind of freaky animals or expired foods. ] Stop wiggling around so much. What did it look like?

Right there, it—

[ jayce's pointing grows more insistent, as if to emphatically address that he's been showing him the whole time but it hasn't been going through for some reason. maybe an adjustment to the designated spot is overdue (he ends up point some paces too far to the left instead, where his double vision is beginning to split the metal mound. make it stop moving first, he slurs). he's speaking faster. why is he speaking faster? as if he were racing something—? ]

It was purple, I think, and kind of green and it had these horns that looked like r—

[ abruptly, the worst fucking thing happens: a nasty sound interrupts jayce's sick rambling, and out he regurgitates water and foamy, acrid bile at their side. ]

[ Viktor tries to tighten his grip on Jayce to keep him from jostling himself around too much, but he's worried about hurting him if he holds too firmly. He seems to figure out what'd about to happen before Jayce does, helping to angle him away from vomiting onto either of them because that would be bad for warmth and morale. His patience is starting to wear thing along with his energy, wishing he could just lay back and sleep for a while without needing to worry that Jayce would wander off somewhere like a toddler hellbent on hurting himself. ]

Okay, yes, I believe you, Jayce, gods. Now please stop moving around so you don't spit up more of the water I worked hard to make for you. You have a concussion and a fever, the last thing your brain needs it to dry out on top of being smushed and cooked.

[ jayce is woozy; he half hears viktor and half doesn't, but a good part of him can pick up through his heaving that he's being scolded. whether it was needed or not, jayce folds to quiet resignation just about as immediately as he's vomited. whatever he's doing, viktor is right?

what was he doing? hell if he can pinpoint exactly what it was. all he has the feeling of is that viktor is right. period.

after what felt like a drawn out silence draped with quiet apology, jayce murmurs, barely: ]

Wake me if you see it.

[ promptly and quite easily, jayce then slumps and passes the hell out again, out of pure drowsiness and exhaustion rather than a worrying black out. he felt awful, yes. his head hurt and spun terribly now, yes, but he was also fighting to stay awake for hours in declining health and dangerous alarm. his shivers are subtle now, and as the infinite night progresses in viktor's arms, they will be completely nonexistent in a few hours. jayce will be heated to the bone again. ]

[ Viktor hums an affirmative, not only to appease Jayce but because he would certainly make it known if he suddenly saw a dragon down in the basement with them. Holding Jayce in place now that he's gone limp, reassured by his steady breathing, Vikto scoots them a foot or so away from the puddle of bile and then slumps back against the wall behind him. Keeping up the warmth in his hands and making water had robbed him of most of his energy, and he can feel the runes on his palms behind to cool. It had been worth it, though, to make sure that Jayce's core would restart itself and begin producing his own body heat.

He doesn't intend to sleep, just wants to rest a while to recuperate what energy he can, but he slips unconscious there with Jayce held tightly in his arms, shawl and coat still covering him, leaving the frost to begin licking at the cooling metal of Viktor's body. ]

[ every once in a while, jayce would stir, drag his eyes around with dreary awareness before slipping back under. it was warm enough and the sluggish reaction of not recognizing the splitting headache that would've plagued him easily sends him off. the slumber is dreamless, for most of the time jayce's brain is too exhausted to fabricate new narratives.

until it isn't. until he's rested enough to dream of the council room in shambles, up in fumes and smokey clouds of dust. he keeps searching for viktor and comes up emptyhanded. he digs through debris and claws the skin of his hands raw through stones and broken pillars. mel tells him viktor is gone. jayce doesn't accept it.

he finds viktor's body crushed in what could only be described as halves, and no amount of stripping his partner bare and pumping his chest would save him. he's gone, jayce. gentle words meant to console only drive him mad. he gathers viktor's shattered remains and runs for the lab, for the one thing that could save him.

he's gone, jayce, warps the voice again, now undeniably masculine, soft spoken, accent thick, weary and melancholy. the mage presses four fingers to his head, and there's now dust in his arms. you did this, he laments, pushes jayce off a cliff where he falls into the pitch blackness of his own death. by the time he hits the ground, the sickening crack as loud as when he'd shattered his leg—

jayce awakens with a startled jump in viktor's lap, with his heart racing, his gasp caught behind a thick knot in his throat and soaked in coldsweat. ]

[ A dreamless sleep takes Viktor, either a mercy of his subconsciousness or a fact of his mechanical form; could machines even dream? He has the mind of a human, yet he has no clue where it sits inside of him anymore. The destroyed half of his face would suggest that there was nothing but web-like grey matter all the way through, and if that's the case, was his entire body similarly structured? There are so many questions he never thought he'd have to consider, but the fact that he feels neither hunger nor thirst seem to suggest that he has lost so many of the weaknesses that Jayce had claimed would make him human. Without those traits, existing as a hollow structure of metal, could he even lay claim to the life he'd once lived?

Jayce startling in his lap pulls him from the inky black of sleep as he grunts from an elbow hitting his stomach. The armful feels so much bigger, heavier, warmer, and as Viktor opens his eyes he's met with the sight of very human and bare arms and legs wrapped around Jayce like a cage.

So he can dream.

Immediately aware of his naked state, he dreams up a simple solution of white shirt and brown slacks. It doesn't take a genius nor someone familiar with the arcane plane to figure out that a dream means that he could create with the only boundary being his own imagination. It's better than that hazy dream of the orchard, covered only in the ragged remains of Jayce's blanket. His modesty intact, he untangles himself from Jayce to survey his surroundings. It's clearly their lab and yet not at the same time, his strong memories of the space they'd shared for years is superimposed over what little he'd been able to glean about the basement Jayce had fallen into, dusty metal shelving strewn among the empty center of the lab and a giant hole in the ceiling opening up to a night sky.

Definitely a dream. ]

Jayce? [ His focus returns to the man sitting in front of him, wondering if he's part of the dream or... something else. ]

[ it takes a moment for jayce to situate, analyze, to realize— it had all been unreal. just his head, which . . . well, it's fine. he's fine, just a level of spooked as he gathers himself. he's broader than he'd been before, beneath his coat, only damp around the collar from his coldsweat. some small strands of bangs that fall from a short trimmed hair style are out of place, not the way he remembers . . . but not exactly wrong. jayce, for the most part, isn't completely lucid (yet). when he turns sideways to catch his partner— wait. what were they—

you know what? he shouldn't question it. such thoughts make his head throb a bit. alas, jayce does a poor job at masking that in his own voice, losing it's grave scraping gained from the ravine and raising an octave or two in surprise (and fumble). ]

—Viktor? [ . . . that was viktor. that's was definitely viktor, but— why is everything so hazy and dark? what came before? what— were they hugging? wait, he was little spoon? not that he objects, but— oh, hell. that's not catching up to him today. anyway, jayce takes a deep breath in, shakes off the fluster, ] What . . . Where are we?

[ The sound of Jayce's voice, younger and more innocent, makes Viktor's heart pang with nostalgia. He looks more like he had when they were still working together closely, before his position on the Council and Viktor's battle with mortality created an expansive ravine between them. There are no wrinkles of trauma on his face, no twitching of his lips nor darting of his eyes. He looks calmer and softer despite having more bulk than he had after starving at the bottom of a pit for gods knew how long.

A dream, and they're both better versions of themselves, close to who they had been when they had met and those years spent side-by-side in the lab and competitions and sleepless nights. ]

A dream, I think. [ Now that Jayce is lucid and moving, Viktor is quick to remove his limbs from around him, confident he'll be able to stay upright on his own. ] Possibly a shared dream through the connection that allows us all to communicate through the network of minds here.

[ a dream isn't the first thing that comes to his mind, but jayce latches onto it anyway, both because it makes so much sense right now that he agrees, but perhaps he's also trying to distract himself from viktor shuffling off him. jayce scoots in a way that faces his partner, looking around them and pinching his brows together when he can't quite recall what he, they, were doing prior.

probably nothing his cheeks should burn over. ]

. . . Huh. [ he's questioning how easy it fits in his brain, too. synapse are firing off, but . . . he feels a dull pang behind his eyes at the end of every spark. a hand lefts to pad of his brows, temple, ] Not exactly my field . . .

[ oneirology, wasn't it? that does actually beg the question: ]

How do you know? Is it . . . Like before?

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cw: past si

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cw: emeto

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