[ It's a relief when Jayce doesn't leap to defend himself, accepting the painful truth no matter how bitter a pill it may be to swallow. Viktor doesn't enjoy forcing it down his throat, not when his favorite sound in the world is Jayce's laughter and there's nothing he'd rather see dawn on his face than a bright smile. This is reality, though, and a harsh one at that—the endless night and vicious creatures and city full of only ghosts is evidence enough of that.
In another situation, when there isn't a snarled tangle of emotions writhing in Viktor's chest, he would have laughed and pointed out that Jayce didn't know what he was swearing to yet. This feels like more blind faith in Viktor, though a very twisted and broken version compared to the sagely version met above a high peak like some kind of fairy tale. This Viktor doesn't know the future, only knows himself, and even that is a fractured and skewed image he doesn't want to linger on right now. ]
Don't stare at me. [ His tone is flat, factual like he's presenting the conditions of an experiment rather than a personal boundary. ] If there is anything physical that you notice about me that isn't life-threatening, keep it to yourself.
[ for a brief moment, jayce seems startled. a moment more, and he brings his already fixed gaze half downcast. one part of him thinks: that's all? and another part wilts with profound guilt at what it fully entails. there's no objecting to it, now. there was never any room for that if jayce wanted one more chance to be at his side. he could be upset about abandonment some other time, and keep that to himself, too. ]
Okay. [ he submits, relents, and nods, quiet words following. ] Alright.
[ something still bubbles in jayce's chest, wanting out. it lodges in his throat like a splinter as he fidgets his fingers. it's strange. part of him still feels— unjustified. misunderstood. he'd always tried his best and done what would protect them at the time. he kicked heimerdinger off the council, and to this day that ball of fur pisses him of for what he did to viktor. he made weapons because he was nearly sawed in half, and could've done worse to viktor, to mel— it was true that he'd been busy with council duties, or . . . luxuries. looking at his reflection too much when he should've been dropping everything to help viktor to begin with. it was something pushed onto him, too. if viktor had just told him what he was doing, he'd— he would've dropped everything, he'd . . .
he hid it from him, instead.
it was a tangle, and jayce buries his face in his hands to rub at them and relieve the tension in them. he resented the council for pushing this onto him. he resented not having the gall to say no. he resented what that did to his views of topside and undercity. fueled by an undeniable amount of stress and fear, he still remembers that bridge— the day it slipped out of him, unfair, and the day viktor looked at him differently. he resented himself, most of all. he should have resigned so much sooner, or better yet— he shouldn't have accepted at all. who knew, you could still say no.
but even then, he'd been afraid. that it would have stripped their funding to bare bones. that it would've driven him to another ledge.
there was never a clean way out, when he analyzed it, and jayce distinctly remembers how crazy it made him when he had even more time on his hands to think about his failures in the ravine. ]
. . . I'm sorry. From the bottom of my heart, [ genuine, apologetic doesn't begin to scrape the surface of his remorse, but there is just so much words could do, here. but he had to try. ] that I did that to you.
I don't— want forgiveness. I don't think I even deserve it. Just . . . [ he gestures, resigned, ] Know.
[ if he didn't want to accept that, either— jayce supposes he'll just have to live with it. like so many other things he'll simply have to stick in a bottle and leave unsaid. ]
[ It breaks his heart a little to hear his own dark thoughts echoed back to him in Jayce's voice. Would he ever be able to forgive Jayce for everything that he's done, all the things he's been complacent in? On a surface level, of course. He might reach a point where he wouldn't linger on the thought any time his eyes lingered on Jayce's face, a time when he would be able to say the words "I forgive you" aloud, but he fears there may always been a small, rotten piece of him that will hold on to all of his resentments for the rest of his days.
Perhaps it breaks his heart more to hear that Jayce knows he'd laid the groundwork for Viktor to take his current form as well as believing it was something he needed to apologize for. This body—the one he'd left behind in reality, at least—is still so new to him. He'd tasted its power for less than a day, felt the strength and freedom it offered, only to end up in a version of it that feels more like a prison than a pair of wings. It's not the body that's the problem but the lack of autonomy he'd had, the countless forces using him for their own selfish means, and no one but Jayce ever stopping to get to know Viktor well enough to care about his own needs. ]
I know you thought it was necessary. [ Jayce doesn't believe he deserves forgiveness, so Viktor isn't going to pretend he can absolve him of his guilt. ] I just wish you could have trusted the version of me you knew to find a solution rather than blindly following my future self. I'm the one you have to live with now.
[ jayce would always fall for any and all viktors. his necessity to act was to prevent the present from becoming the future. it felt . . . like the only path he could follow when his viktor's perspective was twisted, gnarled and corrupted because of his inability to live without him.
as long as they could speak. listen. understand, not all times agree but work through it— it is more than jayce could ask for. he cannot demand more than what he is miraculously receiving. there is no better path now than forward, if they are being given that chance. so, quiet and resigned, jayce makes his intentions known: ]
That's all I want. [ just viktor. viktor, the way he was. viktor with all his perfect misalignments. viktor and all thee time spent wasted. viktor, with life. viktor with his brilliance and his whitty tongue, his sharp accent. jayce could embrace him; his heart yearn— his body refrains, restive fingers running across the webbing at the core of his wrist, and the scars spiraling outward. ] I wasn't what you needed for a long time . . . But I want to be.
[ viktor is giving him that chance. he won't mess it up. ]
[ You fool, Viktor thinks, chewing at the inside of his cheek to hold back the words, You've always been what I needed. ]
Then we'll make the best of this opportunity. [ Letting his arms drop from where they'd been crossed in front of him, defensive, he sighs a little. This is by no means the end of the conversation, but it is a momentary truce because there is too much at stake. Viktor firmly believes that Jayce will follow him anywhere he might try to go alone, a danger to himself more than others, and that's a guilt that Viktor doesn't want to add to what he already feels.
He steps closer again, catching the back of a chair on his way and dragging it with him to sit near Jayce. It's hard to say what furniture is real or imagined, dreamed up to match their surroundings or pulled from memories of their lab. ]
We should probably wake up soon. You were delusional from hypothermia and shock when I found you, and even if you're stable now, we need better shelter.
[ to meet viktor halfway through his stride with a seat, jayce pulls for a stool nearby— likely viktor's, to pick himself up and sit upon it the same way he had when waiting, quite anxiously, for viktor to wake up from his ressurection. he doesn't know how it happens either, but as he settles, he's picked something up, to keep close to his grip like a hug for comfort. viktor's crutch, with fingers playing with the shaft's meticulous design, worn and shaped by the years. ]
How? [ even if he's lucidly dreaming, jayce considers the difficulty in telling one's brain to rise from such a deep slumber to cause dreaming to begin with. what wakes someone up? he pinders this, eyes to the ground to catalogue possibilities until he pins one under a mental folder of importance. ] We'd need . . . Some sort of kick?
[ The sight of his cane is a shock, especially to see it clutched in Jayce's arms as if he needs it for support as much as Viktor had in a previous life. He doesn't want to linger on the idea of it being here, doesn't want to give in to the memory of a weak leg and pangs of pain up his spine and lungs struggling to draw in air.
Even if he's a monster, at least he's no longer actively dying. ]
A kick. [ He echoes the word thoughtfully, understanding the thought process but wondering why Jayce would immediately turn to a violent term. ] Yes, essentially. Or sheer willpower.
Now, how to get that, [ wordless, searching gesture, ] kick . . .
[ he's thinking a start. a jolt. an electric charge of sorts that lead to cranking it. jayce begins going into thought the way he likes best, the way the illusion of the lab provides: a place where the pair would put their heads together and think up their greatest ideas at witching hour and nothing but coffe and cold sandwich leftovers at most. jayce idly shifts around on the stool using the balls of his feet, twisting this way and that while using the crutch as a supporting pillar.
eventually, his thoughtful rolling leads him to "his" side of the lab's counter, crossing his feet up. professors would scold him eternally. jayce, on the other hand, thinks better. his only miscalculation is that this isn't his stiff-legged chair.
he commits the risky act of tipping back, trusting the crutch too much to hold him. ]
Have you ever had a dream here you f—
[ the stool springs inward with bided momentum. he falls back first—
[ Viktor is taking a different approach by trying to will himself awake, but the distraction of Jayce wheeling around and muttering under his breath it... well, distracting. It's impossible not to let himself return to memories of their past in the lab, working together in order to puzzle through a problem and create the solution. He can feel the dangerous allure of falling back into the way things were when clearly, they could never be the same starry-eyed young men they had once been.
Closing his eyes, trying to focus on everything he knows to be inaccurate here, unrealistic, his eyes fly open at the sound of a crash and then the sight of Jayce blinking out of existence. Viktor sits alone for a moment, bathed in silence, and then gives one manic burst of laughter that's impossible to hold back. Stupid yet effective. ]
[ jayce stirs the next moment. he feels a strange mix of warmth heating him up, and cold nipping at his extremities. to feel the discomfort of cold at all was a good sign, and the warmth around him had been fighting to keep it at bay. with the shivering less pronounced but drenched slick in his own sweat, jayce fruitlessly shifts where he sits, back to viktor's lanky, draping frame.
he groans as he comes to, blinking through the fog and pounding headache to think of two things. the first, how dressed in blankets and foreign limbs he was, like a holiday turkey ready for the stove. the second:
a whisper of "viktor". any louder and he thinks his head may split in half. ]
[ The combination of trying to wake up and the gentle calling of his name by a voice so adept at making his name sound like a song, Viktor follows to wakefulness a few moments later. He swims back into a body that doesn't feel entirely his own, too-long limbs still wrapped around Jayce like a spider cradling its prey. It takes too much effort to move, living metal frozen stiff from the cold and being inactive for too long. ]
Fuck. [ His voice is metallic again, ball bearings grinding against each other thanks to the frigid rust between. ] How do you feel?
[ jayce's movement intensifies by a smidge, only enough that he's lifting his hand on his own to the crown of his head, drawing his good leg's knee into a bend while the other adjusts sideways. some spots that have remained stuck in the same position for long ache, and beyond that— almost every muscle in his body protests from the fatigue cause by shaking like a twig in a storm. coherent enough to respond with clarity, jayce groans through his teeth: ]
Like shit.
[ the fog clears around the middle of his vision while the edges remain clouded. that could go away with some blinking. probably. his memory is equally scattered, unsure of what happened or where he was expect for the most recent, dreamlike exchange that felt heavy on his chest. ]
[ Stretching his legs out in front of him, careful not to jostle Jayce in the process, Viktor groans and slumps back against the wall behind him, arms falling to either side. He had planned to carry Jayce out of here, but not that he feels the aftershock of using so much energy on magic, he doesn't know if he even has the strength to lift himself out of this hole. ]
As real as anything else. [ What was the definition of real, anyways? If everything in the world was experienced through the senses which just sent signals to the brain, what is to say that dreams aren't just as real? ] Real in that it happened, and we were both there.
at least he said what he said. jayce avoids nodding his head, but there's a quiet sort of agreement in the way he hangs it. he doesn't think that's the last of it— there's plenty still left unsaid, but one could only shoulder so much before it gets exhausting for both parties.
he's scraping his gaze around them, now, only briefly touching base on viktor's presence before he can be accused of staring and pulls his probing gaze away for an exit. ]
[ If Viktor could raise an eyebrow, he would; instead, he cocks his head to one side and slightly angles his head to clearly eye Jayce. ]
Can you?
[ Pulling his legs back towards himself, he folds them beneath his body and stands with a creaking groan of metal being tested to its limits. He hadn't considered what might happen to him in cold temperatures, never thought about what a living metal body would become without its main power source, but there is at least some magic left in him to keep him... alive.
Now isn't the time to think about it. He extends a hand down to Jayce and waits expectantly to help him to his feet. ]
[ they'll just have to put it to the test. at the very least, jayce doesn't feel . . . completely out of it, just exhausted and painful. his uncertainty is etched into tight knit brows, but he extends his hand either way, rises fully through grit teeth and puffed cheeks.
he manages, but not without support. jayce is still keeping his hands on viktor for stability in the wooziness of his balance. ]
Just barely, [ would he'd really like if to get the fuck out of here, now, trying to bury the growing resentment of being abandoned to begin with. not the damn time for that, so he only breathes out a quick: ] but it's enough.
[ Luckily, Viktor has strength enough for himself and a little left over to heave Jayce to his feet and give keep him there. If he were his original height, he'd be able to sling Jayce's arm over his shoulders and help him walk that way, but then he also would be able to keep them both upright with his weak body. ]
Lean against me. [ He loops a hand beneath Jayce's arm that's not pressed against his side and wishes the hand at his back weren't useless. ] You can wrap your arm around me if you need.
[ no matter what happened behind them, they'd walk forward, together. they'd come to an end, together. his sacrifice was made upon a belief, a want, a desire, and a need. they all revolved around viktor. and what would he do, if viktor was gone? according to viktor himself, jayce would be a danger to himself. he's not exactly wrong. so why was jayce remembering all the things he's hidden from him? why does it sit poorly, gnaws at his planted feet now? his voice is leveled, grave— his head is kept low as an arm reaches, connects, holds. viktor towers over him. he doesn't gaze up; he promised he wouldn't stare. ]
Ready.
[ it keep echoing in his head: i left everything, for you— why did you leave me? it's as if the answer he already knew, the one that should make sense at the swallow of it, was not notching past his throat. jayce wants to understand it, tells himself it's complicated. viktor carries all of his ghosts close. and yet, he's upset. he's upset that he had to be in danger to spark any interest to come looking for him. to see him, again. to reunite. to stick together the way they were meant to be. human and petty, as it were.
jayce presses his lips together to the point of sucking them in. his head hurts. his heart aches a little bit more. he doesn't voice either. ]
[ Thought Viktor had made Jayce promise not to stare at him, it prickles something in his heart to see how easily he obeys. He's well aware of what his visage must evoke in Jayce's mind—Jinx had been hostile out of the gate, though that's probably not much of a litmus test when she was almost always hostile. But perhaps there had been a flicker of hope buried deep down in Viktor that Jayce would be able to look him in his one glowing golden eye and not care about the herald's machine-like body because he knew the man beneath the metal, locked in the grey honeycomb matter within.
All of that is whimsy they don't have the time to indulge in. Stepping forward, Viktor angles them towards a door that he hopes will lead to stairs. ]
Is there somewhere you've been staying? [ Viktor, being largely immune to the necessities of humanity, hadn't settled down anywhere since arriving. ] Can you lead me there?
[ jayce tries not to shake his head too fast. partially, because the purple blotches of bruises around his windpipe strain the action, making him stiff and painful. second, he didn't want viktor to notice, and tucks his sweat drenched scarf in tighter. third, it felt like he was throwing a heavy sack of potatoes around his skull and that he'd tip over or get a migraine if he swung too far this way, or that. he settles with a shrug that showcases the impartance of a single spot for him up until now (there were none).
jayce's hold is firm, gripped tight and chasing stability. his gaze holds forward for most of the trek from here to the door, but, once he catches a flicker of gold in the dark—
fuck it, jayce thinks, even more frustrated at the stupid promise he needs to upkeep, it's not staring if i don't hold it. in that frame, in a somber golden gaze and fractured face, all he sees is viktor, trapped in the doing jayce had given him. or perhaps, that they'd given each other. nothing changes. not even the way red hot frustration swells like a boil and then pops, dissipates when longing and affection are stronger.
jayce tells himself he's still upset. part of him believes it. the rest betrays it. ]
I rested wherever I could. [ because he hadn't stopped when it came to searching for viktor. if his legs were objecting to strongly, he'd been forced to cease, to rest. sleep has been abysmal. the best one he had was . . . now, for how ever long that dream had lasted, and that was damn saying something. in one stressful dream, out into another. ] . . . There's the place I woke up in, though.
[ Viktor is preoccupied with opening the door, a feat which requires more strength than he'd expected thanks to rubble crowding the other side. He knows that Jayce is looking up at him, but it last just long enough for him to get a good look. Very well, let him take in the horror of Viktor's mangled face and the nightmare of memories. Viktor knows that he isn't innocent of crimes nor faults, and if Jayce needs to remind himself of that, so be it. ]
If it has a roof and walls, it's as good as anywhere else. Better than here, too. [ Anywhere is better than a rotting building with a gaping hole in every floor. ] Is it close?
[ jayce's gaze stays on his feet, now, careful with how they move, slow in his steps. and perhaps his silence grows because he's realizing something. it'd happened before, in the ravine when he suffered the impact— it did not mean it was welcomed. he tries and tries to picture it, to pull out the directions from the catalogue of his mind, but one of the drawers have been left in disorganized shambles. ]
I don't . . . Remember. [ and that had been a frustration ready to blow larger from admittance. his brain, one of his greatest assets, was failing him. he wanted it to work at the same power output and the response was just— disappointing. and as if to deny the fact, he adds, quickly and stubbornly: ] I just need to be outside.
[ The reply is concerning, not only because of the short timeframe that doesn't explain forgetting such details but because Viktor is so well-acquainted with the brilliance of Jayce's mind. This is hardly the time to chase the topic, though, because they need better shelter and yes, Viktor would also like to get back outside. After the dream walking the line between memory and reality, he'd prefer to get somewhere open where he can focus more on where they really are, where they're going. ]
Right. Well, if anything looks familiar, shout it out, I guess.
[ jayce keeps his vision low while they move, jaw tight. he doesn't want to admit how much his head is pounding now that they're moving, and he feels sickness brew at the core of his stomach— but jayce persists, taking to viktor's pillar of a frame to lean on when it gets harsh, when saliva builds in his mouth and keeps forcing him to swallow nausea like a meal. their silence stretches taught and unpleasant, until it splinters out from jayce: bitter, and quieter than he means to bem rough around the edges but careful: ]
So . . . That was the plan, then? [ his boots scuff the floor. he doesn't look up. ] Stay away, until— [ he gestures to his head, with no real bite but indeed a point of disappointment that sits heavy. ] This.
[ Viktor doesn't mind a slow pace, worn out as he is and not nearly as badly off as Jayce. In the silence, they find stairs that declare this level as B2, so at least they won't be attempting to climb countless flights of stairs just to get out of this cursed building.
Having expected silence, the question surprises him. There hadn't been a plan other than stay away from Jayce, something he knows is foolish in hindsight since their lives are so inextricably linked. ]
I didn't plan for you venturing out on your own and falling through a hole in the floor, if that's what you mean. [ There's more than a hint of criticism in his tone; Jayce is smart enough to know that he shouldn't be in a place like this alone. Viktor had assumed he'd make allies with someone else, anyone else. ]
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In another situation, when there isn't a snarled tangle of emotions writhing in Viktor's chest, he would have laughed and pointed out that Jayce didn't know what he was swearing to yet. This feels like more blind faith in Viktor, though a very twisted and broken version compared to the sagely version met above a high peak like some kind of fairy tale. This Viktor doesn't know the future, only knows himself, and even that is a fractured and skewed image he doesn't want to linger on right now. ]
Don't stare at me. [ His tone is flat, factual like he's presenting the conditions of an experiment rather than a personal boundary. ] If there is anything physical that you notice about me that isn't life-threatening, keep it to yourself.
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Okay. [ he submits, relents, and nods, quiet words following. ] Alright.
[ something still bubbles in jayce's chest, wanting out. it lodges in his throat like a splinter as he fidgets his fingers. it's strange. part of him still feels— unjustified. misunderstood. he'd always tried his best and done what would protect them at the time. he kicked heimerdinger off the council, and to this day that ball of fur pisses him of for what he did to viktor. he made weapons because he was nearly sawed in half, and could've done worse to viktor, to mel— it was true that he'd been busy with council duties, or . . . luxuries. looking at his reflection too much when he should've been dropping everything to help viktor to begin with. it was something pushed onto him, too. if viktor had just told him what he was doing, he'd— he would've dropped everything, he'd . . .
he hid it from him, instead.
it was a tangle, and jayce buries his face in his hands to rub at them and relieve the tension in them. he resented the council for pushing this onto him. he resented not having the gall to say no. he resented what that did to his views of topside and undercity. fueled by an undeniable amount of stress and fear, he still remembers that bridge— the day it slipped out of him, unfair, and the day viktor looked at him differently. he resented himself, most of all. he should have resigned so much sooner, or better yet— he shouldn't have accepted at all. who knew, you could still say no.
but even then, he'd been afraid. that it would have stripped their funding to bare bones. that it would've driven him to another ledge.
there was never a clean way out, when he analyzed it, and jayce distinctly remembers how crazy it made him when he had even more time on his hands to think about his failures in the ravine. ]
. . . I'm sorry. From the bottom of my heart, [ genuine, apologetic doesn't begin to scrape the surface of his remorse, but there is just so much words could do, here. but he had to try. ] that I did that to you.
I don't— want forgiveness. I don't think I even deserve it. Just . . . [ he gestures, resigned, ] Know.
[ if he didn't want to accept that, either— jayce supposes he'll just have to live with it. like so many other things he'll simply have to stick in a bottle and leave unsaid. ]
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Perhaps it breaks his heart more to hear that Jayce knows he'd laid the groundwork for Viktor to take his current form as well as believing it was something he needed to apologize for. This body—the one he'd left behind in reality, at least—is still so new to him. He'd tasted its power for less than a day, felt the strength and freedom it offered, only to end up in a version of it that feels more like a prison than a pair of wings. It's not the body that's the problem but the lack of autonomy he'd had, the countless forces using him for their own selfish means, and no one but Jayce ever stopping to get to know Viktor well enough to care about his own needs. ]
I know you thought it was necessary. [ Jayce doesn't believe he deserves forgiveness, so Viktor isn't going to pretend he can absolve him of his guilt. ] I just wish you could have trusted the version of me you knew to find a solution rather than blindly following my future self. I'm the one you have to live with now.
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as long as they could speak. listen. understand, not all times agree but work through it— it is more than jayce could ask for. he cannot demand more than what he is miraculously receiving. there is no better path now than forward, if they are being given that chance. so, quiet and resigned, jayce makes his intentions known: ]
That's all I want. [ just viktor. viktor, the way he was. viktor with all his perfect misalignments. viktor and all thee time spent wasted. viktor, with life. viktor with his brilliance and his whitty tongue, his sharp accent. jayce could embrace him; his heart yearn— his body refrains, restive fingers running across the webbing at the core of his wrist, and the scars spiraling outward. ] I wasn't what you needed for a long time . . . But I want to be.
[ viktor is giving him that chance. he won't mess it up. ]
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Then we'll make the best of this opportunity. [ Letting his arms drop from where they'd been crossed in front of him, defensive, he sighs a little. This is by no means the end of the conversation, but it is a momentary truce because there is too much at stake. Viktor firmly believes that Jayce will follow him anywhere he might try to go alone, a danger to himself more than others, and that's a guilt that Viktor doesn't want to add to what he already feels.
He steps closer again, catching the back of a chair on his way and dragging it with him to sit near Jayce. It's hard to say what furniture is real or imagined, dreamed up to match their surroundings or pulled from memories of their lab. ]
We should probably wake up soon. You were delusional from hypothermia and shock when I found you, and even if you're stable now, we need better shelter.
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How? [ even if he's lucidly dreaming, jayce considers the difficulty in telling one's brain to rise from such a deep slumber to cause dreaming to begin with. what wakes someone up? he pinders this, eyes to the ground to catalogue possibilities until he pins one under a mental folder of importance. ] We'd need . . . Some sort of kick?
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Even if he's a monster, at least he's no longer actively dying. ]
A kick. [ He echoes the word thoughtfully, understanding the thought process but wondering why Jayce would immediately turn to a violent term. ] Yes, essentially. Or sheer willpower.
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[ he's thinking a start. a jolt. an electric charge of sorts that lead to cranking it. jayce begins going into thought the way he likes best, the way the illusion of the lab provides: a place where the pair would put their heads together and think up their greatest ideas at witching hour and nothing but coffe and cold sandwich leftovers at most. jayce idly shifts around on the stool using the balls of his feet, twisting this way and that while using the crutch as a supporting pillar.
eventually, his thoughtful rolling leads him to "his" side of the lab's counter, crossing his feet up. professors would scold him eternally. jayce, on the other hand, thinks better. his only miscalculation is that this isn't his stiff-legged chair.
he commits the risky act of tipping back, trusting the crutch too much to hold him. ]
Have you ever had a dream here you f—
[ the stool springs inward with bided momentum. he falls back first—
and disappears. ]
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Closing his eyes, trying to focus on everything he knows to be inaccurate here, unrealistic, his eyes fly open at the sound of a crash and then the sight of Jayce blinking out of existence. Viktor sits alone for a moment, bathed in silence, and then gives one manic burst of laughter that's impossible to hold back. Stupid yet effective. ]
shakes my fists WHERE not HERE
he groans as he comes to, blinking through the fog and pounding headache to think of two things. the first, how dressed in blankets and foreign limbs he was, like a holiday turkey ready for the stove. the second:
a whisper of "viktor". any louder and he thinks his head may split in half. ]
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Fuck. [ His voice is metallic again, ball bearings grinding against each other thanks to the frigid rust between. ] How do you feel?
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Like shit.
[ the fog clears around the middle of his vision while the edges remain clouded. that could go away with some blinking. probably. his memory is equally scattered, unsure of what happened or where he was expect for the most recent, dreamlike exchange that felt heavy on his chest. ]
Was that real—?
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As real as anything else. [ What was the definition of real, anyways? If everything in the world was experienced through the senses which just sent signals to the brain, what is to say that dreams aren't just as real? ] Real in that it happened, and we were both there.
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at least he said what he said. jayce avoids nodding his head, but there's a quiet sort of agreement in the way he hangs it. he doesn't think that's the last of it— there's plenty still left unsaid, but one could only shoulder so much before it gets exhausting for both parties.
he's scraping his gaze around them, now, only briefly touching base on viktor's presence before he can be accused of staring and pulls his probing gaze away for an exit. ]
Can you stand?
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Can you?
[ Pulling his legs back towards himself, he folds them beneath his body and stands with a creaking groan of metal being tested to its limits. He hadn't considered what might happen to him in cold temperatures, never thought about what a living metal body would become without its main power source, but there is at least some magic left in him to keep him... alive.
Now isn't the time to think about it. He extends a hand down to Jayce and waits expectantly to help him to his feet. ]
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he manages, but not without support. jayce is still keeping his hands on viktor for stability in the wooziness of his balance. ]
Just barely, [ would he'd really like if to get the fuck out of here, now, trying to bury the growing resentment of being abandoned to begin with. not the damn time for that, so he only breathes out a quick: ] but it's enough.
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Lean against me. [ He loops a hand beneath Jayce's arm that's not pressed against his side and wishes the hand at his back weren't useless. ] You can wrap your arm around me if you need.
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Ready.
[ it keep echoing in his head: i left everything, for you— why did you leave me? it's as if the answer he already knew, the one that should make sense at the swallow of it, was not notching past his throat. jayce wants to understand it, tells himself it's complicated. viktor carries all of his ghosts close. and yet, he's upset. he's upset that he had to be in danger to spark any interest to come looking for him. to see him, again. to reunite. to stick together the way they were meant to be. human and petty, as it were.
jayce presses his lips together to the point of sucking them in. his head hurts. his heart aches a little bit more. he doesn't voice either. ]
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All of that is whimsy they don't have the time to indulge in. Stepping forward, Viktor angles them towards a door that he hopes will lead to stairs. ]
Is there somewhere you've been staying? [ Viktor, being largely immune to the necessities of humanity, hadn't settled down anywhere since arriving. ] Can you lead me there?
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jayce's hold is firm, gripped tight and chasing stability. his gaze holds forward for most of the trek from here to the door, but, once he catches a flicker of gold in the dark—
fuck it, jayce thinks, even more frustrated at the stupid promise he needs to upkeep, it's not staring if i don't hold it. in that frame, in a somber golden gaze and fractured face, all he sees is viktor, trapped in the doing jayce had given him. or perhaps, that they'd given each other. nothing changes. not even the way red hot frustration swells like a boil and then pops, dissipates when longing and affection are stronger.
jayce tells himself he's still upset. part of him believes it. the rest betrays it. ]
I rested wherever I could. [ because he hadn't stopped when it came to searching for viktor. if his legs were objecting to strongly, he'd been forced to cease, to rest. sleep has been abysmal. the best one he had was . . . now, for how ever long that dream had lasted, and that was damn saying something. in one stressful dream, out into another. ] . . . There's the place I woke up in, though.
[ he knows viktor would have like it.
and fuck that, too. ]
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If it has a roof and walls, it's as good as anywhere else. Better than here, too. [ Anywhere is better than a rotting building with a gaping hole in every floor. ] Is it close?
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I don't . . . Remember. [ and that had been a frustration ready to blow larger from admittance. his brain, one of his greatest assets, was failing him. he wanted it to work at the same power output and the response was just— disappointing. and as if to deny the fact, he adds, quickly and stubbornly: ] I just need to be outside.
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Right. Well, if anything looks familiar, shout it out, I guess.
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So . . . That was the plan, then? [ his boots scuff the floor. he doesn't look up. ] Stay away, until— [ he gestures to his head, with no real bite but indeed a point of disappointment that sits heavy. ] This.
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Having expected silence, the question surprises him. There hadn't been a plan other than stay away from Jayce, something he knows is foolish in hindsight since their lives are so inextricably linked. ]
I didn't plan for you venturing out on your own and falling through a hole in the floor, if that's what you mean. [ There's more than a hint of criticism in his tone; Jayce is smart enough to know that he shouldn't be in a place like this alone. Viktor had assumed he'd make allies with someone else, anyone else. ]
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and that's a wrap!