ar_cane | somnia

[ 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?

[ To Viktor, it's painfully obvious that this isn't reality thanks to the difference in his body, but he realizes that Jayce was probably too delirious at the time to remember the machine cradling him in arms that couldn't provide body heat. It makes Viktor want to wake up and run away again, to hide his broken face and keep to the shadows, but he knows that it would just endanger Jayce once more. There's a non-zero chance that Jayce would get himself into more trouble hunting Viktor down again, and also the problem of his leg and recent concussion to worry about.

Humming, he picks at the clothes he'd willed into existence, tries to feel the fabric but his mind just registers the abstract concept of a shirt rather than any tactile information. ]

For starters, I dreamed these up. And... [ He sighs, draws both legs to his chest because it doesn't hurt to do so, and wraps his arms around them. ] Jayce, I'm not human anymore. In reality, outside of abstract spaces, I'm still that evolved form.

[ Admitting it along with being asked about his experience with collective consciousness leaves a sour taste in his mouth, stomach lurching. But Jayce deserves the truth, not only because they've landed in this place together, but because he had been the only person close enough to Viktor to see through his mania and remind him of his humanity. ]

No, it's not the same. In the commune, I could walk freely from mind to mind like a physical space.

[ in regards to the differences between the astral plane and this, jayce can't help but to think well, that's good without actually thinking at all. it simply meant, upon further inspection, that there'd truly been a disconnect between the arcane and viktor. on one hand, he was completely coherent. himself. the same gold that jayce had missed seeing in the sharp, telling gaze of his eyes in all this dimly lit illusion. on the other . . .

that might be a problem for later. jayce instead, shifts to face foward, towards his partner, truly begin to grasp his presence, and . . . his unease. jayce's nose scrunches at the bridge briefly, as if to consider the thought that viktor would actually assume he'd care about his appearance. he thought he'd been pretty clear with what he wanted, and yet—

perhaps viktor needs another nudge in the right direction. any sort of frustration still within jayce leaves with a bottled huff and sinking shoulders. he can't for long. not with viktor. ]

But you're still you, aren't you?

[ Viktor, for all his distaste in societal niceties such as schmoozing and dumbing himself down to not alienate others, is observant of even minute facial expressions and body language. It comes from growing up in a place where anything less than constant vigilance meant winding up dead, and he's studied human anatomy for long enough that he's familiar with all the muscles that worked together to create reactions. It's why he notices Jayce's wrinkled nose, the slight frown as his face pulls together to a central point. It has nothing to do with being so familiar with Jayce's face that he could draw it blind, so used to reading his expressions that he could mirror them back without thought. It's unfortunate, then, that the scrunching of that small bit of skin is interpreted as distaste for the reality of Viktor's body back in that basement where they're sleeping through the cold snap.

Still. Has he really been himself since the Hexcore had replaced his heart? He'd felt like himself when something had literally smashed the mask from his eyes and forced him to face the truth of his great work, to see the world around him, to lock eyes with Jayce. ]

I am myself. There's no connection to anything arcane here, just a faint and foreign magic.

[ it's been so long since jayce has seen his face without prismatic colors or the faintly glow of stars and golden threads. it's cathartic. his own amber eyes search for signals firing off, and with a furmer press of his lower lip against the weiggted tip of his front teeth, jayce extends his hand. large palms and fingers rest on the man's thin forearm and rises to his shoulders with a bit more confidence.

this too, he's missed; like he'd lost a part of him when he ceased his own expression through touch, ushering in when he could finally hold his partner back in his arms, up there. ]

Then nothing else matters to me.

[ jayce sighs, exhasperation trickling along the edges of his patience that holds the fort of his compassion like an army, battle ready. he'd been pissed earlier, but jayce can't quite remember the shape of his frustration when it's been tenderized by the specks of delicate moles and very human, beloved eyes. viktor does not need scrutiny, now. he needs—

jayce. he needs jayce, and jayce needs him. ]

I thought that much was obvious, V.

[ It would be so easy to accept the invitation of Jayce's touch and ease into an embrace regardless of whether this dream space is real, if Jayce is a figment of his imagination. After having so much power at his fingertips, a literal cosmos to explore within his own mind, it's difficult to give up the thought that he might be creating all of this subconsciously. But even Viktor, who knew Jayce better than he knew any other person, wouldn't make a version of him that's so confusing and contradictory.

Huffing, he doesn't shrug off the hand but he also doesn't melt into it despite all his longer. Maybe because of it. ]

Obvious? [ He can't stop the huff of disbelieving laughter that escapes him. ] How can you say that? Everything about you is so confusing, Jayce, even after seeing your memories. I know your end goal, but everything else...

[ Emotions have always been a bit of a difficulty for Viktor, not because he doesn't understand them but because he doesn't often feel them. He can recognize his frustration, his sense of betrayal, but he doesn't like to sit with those things long enough to process them. There's also the fact that he had assumed he'd be going to his death, that he wouldn't have to deal with the fallout of everything he'd done, and definitely wouldn't have to face Jayce again. ]

You shot me. You fought me. You saw my evolved body and you cringed.

[ oh, no. it's like he's touched live wire, feeling his core jolt. jayce's expression falters, falls— and soon the whites of his eyes are fully visible in the dimness of their quasi-lab, or at least the dreamt memory of it. jayce begins to interject, softly, with viktor, and no and it's not like that, until he can't bear the thought steered wrong and cuts in just as soon as viktor stops. ]

—Because I was afraid, [ not appalled. but that is not just one answer. it was to answer every point. why he took the shot. why he fought. why he flinched— his arms are used to speak with him, gestures and movements to emphasize himself. ] afraid you'd— that you'd vanish, that I'd lose you for good!

[ at the height of his climbing emotion, jayce damns sounding overly sentimental. he is raw like nerves exposed, and he'll have to be embarrassed about it some other time. but one other thing he'd felt was also guilt— guilt to have been the cause of that change. if not directly, he triggered the event. he couldn't let viktor go the first time.

it's not as if he's remorseful enough to not repeat the offensem he's fucked up. he knows he is— but he can't let viktor slip away again. ]

If that hadn't been the only way I knew how to bring you back to me, I swear— I swear I wouldn't have, Viktor.

[ The temptation to leave things alone rises with each soft interjection from Jayce that slowly become louder pleas. Afraid? As if Viktor hadn't spent his entire life being afraid. That was one of the core differences between them that would never go away, no matter how long Jayce had spent down in that hole. Viktor's life was a constant struggle against the sealed fate of dying young, and Jayce had been handed so much on a platter regardless of the struggles he may have faced along the path to progress.

Viktor can't help rolling his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. He knows that they shouldn't be fighting, but if not now, when? When else was he going to be able to get it off his chest that he didn't want to be around Jayce right now because he couldn't stand that exact look of fear in his eyes? ]

How am I supposed to react to that? You were scared to lose me, so you killed me. And if you knew killing me would change me, then—

[ A cold shiver runs through him, like a reminder of the weather in the waking world that they'd left behind. ]

Did you know?

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cw: emeto

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