ar_cane | somnia

[ it was a strange, humming alert at his core, at the back of his mind, a sensitive sixth sense that makes him look around wildly for viktor. as if he'd seen him already in a crowd, just needed to point him out. but he cannot see over the counter, hidden from the sight of the storefront. it's only until he hears glass crackle and creak, lifts his head the best he could to peer over the horizon line of the counter, skips in his chest—

the relief that washes over him is monumental. the flutters that have earlier skipped under his ribs is falling in his chest like paper set to drift to the floor. he wants to say something stupid. he refrains, something perhaps equally stupid takes the would-be remark's place. hi. hello. you're here is what fills his eyes. ]

I would've taken magic, [ oh, the things he would've done to have that. magic. how much he loved magic, to the point that he'd treated it like a beautiful bird, put in a cage rather than set free— and democrotized. jayce wanted the world to see its wonders, allow it to help people the same way it helped him. what were the odds, that the only one that'd truly helped him all along was . . . viktor? he looks momentarily whistful, melancholy even when his teeth flash, tooth gap barely prominent and bone white stained red with the meat he'd bitten into. ] but I don't think it likes me back.

[ a rueful truth, he's afraid . . .

now comes the bad part; his cheek has taken a graze, a smudged curtain of blood that has dried into his facial hair preparing a new scar to be worn along with his wrinkles. the top strap of his brace is biting into his leg to keep the bloodflow contained. where he hovers his hands and looks down upon it. the second leather strap tight, but not as much as the first. right below it, an irregular wound that has burned holes into his pants. entered from the bottom side, clean, exited from the top, everted, at an angle, point-blank. it hurts, like hell, he's sure it's not still in there but fragments were possible. no bone. no artery. just flesh and a dash of luck.

it just had to be his already bad leg. ]

[ The sight of Jayce is both a relief while also stoking the embers of concern within Viktor. He's obviously been in a fight rather than falling into something dangerous, the implications of which rattle Viktor's understanding of this place. Of all the people he's interacted with so far, only one has seemed hellbent on being a threat rather than working with others: Jinx. As he examines more of his partner, eyes coming to rest on the bloody and ragged bullet hole in his pant leg, Viktor feels his body heat and hum louder with silent rage. He'd warned her to stay away from Jayce, but he also knows that her mental state weighed heavily on whether or not she could be expected to stay true to her word. Lucky, at least, that Viktor is equipped to help the healing process. The main question is who started the fight and why.

Impossible, he nearly replies aloud, Magic loves you. He stops himself when he realizes that all of his evidence to this fact originates from himself, from that future version who saved Jayce and his mother to the one so fascinated by the possibilities of Hextech that he'd talked him off a literal ledge. Instead of voicing any of this, he focuses on the much more important task at hand. ]

What happened?

[ Carefully worming his fingers through the hole of the pants while avoiding touching skin, Viktor tugs at the side of the fabric until he rips them apart to create a much bigger and workable hole. They'll have to repair the pants, or find Jayce some new ones, but maintaining clothing is far from Viktor's priorities when there is a leg beneath to heal. ]

[ the slightest movement puts jayce's entire frame on edge, pressing his lips tight together and squeezing his eyes, hands rigid against the floor to grasp at something, anything— gravel or his opposite pants leg. he almost has half the mind to catch viktor's hand, keep it away from the wound— but that is simply a visceral reaction that he's quick to smother. before it can go out, he's sure to keep it firmly retreated, let viktor do his work. that much command on himself, he's got.

with the tear cleaved and only a little jostle that dares to make jayce's grunt painful, the wound is exposed. bloody, soaked and uneven. if they could get another tourniquet, he could take the brace off, if it's in the way, but— oh, shit . . . jayce catches his breath, cants his head and raises his shoulder to explain: ]

She didn't take the truth well.

[ he's going to start with honesty. hiding anything from viktor was going to be disastrous. at least he didn't swing first. he wasn't even looking for a fight. new beginnings. he was taking that seriously. ]

I just— wanted to set things right.

Idiotic. [ Whether he mean Jinx, Jayce, or perhaps both is left unsaid. Reaching behind him, he pulls a small messenger bag to the front of his torso and reaches inside for a bottle of water. Though he knows that he can create it himself, it took more energy than it was worth, and that energy has more important applications like stitching together Jayce's wounded skin. ] Why is it that you always end up bleeding when you try to set things right?

[ Pouring a little water onto the wound, he wipes at the blood with a piece of folded gauze. ] What happened to the bullet?

[ jayce makes it clear in the raise of his brows that he both agrees (whoever is the idiot, the answer is yes) and has no idea. bringing a breath in to speak, jayce immediately tenses at the contact and holds it all in, from the protesting shout his throat swallows to keeping his leg still. the rawness left from the disinfection's flare leaves the wound delicate, but at least the pain in cleaning up is nothing in comparison. jayce proves he can take it well with his insane pain threshold, forged iin the darkness of an alternate zaun. ]

It's out— clean through.

Small blessings.

[ With all of the necessary knowledge gleaned, he silently sets to work crouched there next to Jayce like a spindly bug, all limbs and knobby joints. He pours a bit more water into the lid of the bottle, ready to be dabbed at with a fresh piece of gauze which gets draped over the open lip. With the rudimentary doctor's sink readied, he reaches back into his satchel and withdraws a small vial of liquid that look like water in this dim back corner but, if it were to catch the light, would gleam gold. Carefully holding it in his left hand, his right returns into his bag to get a small brush just big enough to easily fit into the vial. ]

I'm not sure how this is going to feel for you. I'm still experimenting with healing. [ Luckily, he's incredibly knowledgeable of the human body as well as more minute details such as cell structures. He's confident that he can close up both entry and exit wounds as well as kickstart the natural healing process, but there's no telling what kind of sensations that will create for Jayce. Viktor knows, too, that he'll feel some of the pain.

Removing cork from vial and dipping brush into liquid, he begins to deftly draw on his left palm a combination of arcane runes and those seemingly native to this city, the language other than English that has been sent to them in fits and bursts. The latter is more difficult to call to mind than the former, Sleep's symbols requiring far more focus to maintain in his mind. When he's satisfied with his work, he doesn't waste time asking if Jayce is ready before pressing his hand over the wound for fear of letting the writing dry if he hesitates.

Light flares out from between the skin of Jayce's leg and the metal surface of Viktor's palm, and instantly he can tell that he'd been cocky to think this might be easy. This isn't as simple as connecting two wires to create a current, it's wrestling with the energy itself and trying to force it into a target with his bare hands. If he were human, if he had skin that could sweat and teeth to grit, he would certainly be doing both, but instead he's deadly quiet as he focuses on the spell and urging it to take. ]

[ he's a guniea pig, well— no qualms with that, either. if this were a less urgent experiment involving his own wounds, jayce would find it fascinating, and certainly he'd be one of the first to volunteer as tribute. hell, he finds viktor's process facinating now and wishes to learn more. about what he hasn't asked about, yet. it's too bad that now's not the time for another joke to ease his tension, but he catalogues it for later anyway. and it's a good thing jayce braces himself anyway— it comes with being alert to the prospect of pain, and perhaps quiety attuned to viktor's intent without being aware of it. he thinks it comes with watching the man's nimble fingers, now much larger than his own, work. better be safe than sorry, right? he gathers his damp scarf into his mouth, just in case. better a bit than garner unwanted attention.

and he was right to.

jayce's entire body seizes, like taking a loaded shock strapped to a chair. he grits, strains and muffles the shriek of his dolor into his shabby scarf. it was worse than the rubbing alcohol. it was like trying to thrust a screw into too tight a space, then hammering it through the rest rather than twisting, until the seams cracked at its impact point.

and scream he continues, until he slumps back, quiets and relaxes at the tail end of the spell. perfectly fine, perfectly alive. simply rebooting. ]

[ Viktor had been prepared for Jayce to feel pain, but what comes as a shock is feeling it begin in his own hand and spread higher the longer the spell works. He's superheating, the purple metal of his skin turning blue first at his fingers and then his wrist, and by the time the color has reached his elbow, the tips of his fingers are more of a watery green. There's a high-pitched whine coming from somewhere as well, close enough that it mixes with Jayce's scream to fill Viktor's ears. Beneath it all, locked in his mind as he concentrates on the spell and not giving in to the searing pain, is his own mental yell contained away from their connection and the greater network of minds out there.

The spell cuts off abruptly as if it had enough momentum to finish sealing Jayce's wound with a final pop of energy. It leaves Viktor shivering, hand still outstretched and resting his palm fulling against Jayce's bare leg where there's a moment of electricity, feedback looping between them. With a shaky breath that's too close to a moan, Viktor pulls his hand away and presses the backside to his face to find shining tears trailing down his cheek. ]

[ a few seconds after the blackout, jayce sluggishly comes to, and startles himself upright in the process. the wind catches in his chest and the sheer force of the prior pain has subsided into tingles, twinges and a consistent tickling in the same manner a sleeping foot would prick. easing his breathing back into soundness, jayce one good look at viktor, his hand clasped to his thigh, and—

jayce's gloved hand hesitates, but soon his own palm rests on top of viktor's, breathes and searches his fractured face for something like home, prepared to wibble a thank you that grows more and more awed at the fact that viktor used magic. on him. for him. he distinctly remembers colors swapping like the heat ignited at the forge.

the spark comnects, their breathing synchs; jayce's pupil swell and every agitated nerve in him goes quiet with calm. ]

Viktor—

[ there is one singular drop that steals the spotlight: the color is a shimmer of gold that jayce thought he never saw before, but— he did. something oddly familiar, just some moments prior.

jayce's jaw goes mildly slack with surprise. ]

That's what you used?

[ The feeling humming through Viktor's body is a paradox, familiar pain mixed with unfamiliar pleasure. It feels perverse to have experienced anything like enjoyment after the sheer effort that had been the spell, yet being able to pull it off, to see the blood dry up and leave behind fresh skin, to know that he'd had the power over a human body—

It startles him to feel the weight of a hand on his, and the first instinct is to flinch away but it's overwritten by the calm that comes with Jayce being close. He'd be annoyed if he had the room to feel any more emotions, but his mind and body are both at capacity already. Clearing his throat, he folds his hand around Jayce's to move it away and then gently places it back on Jayce's leg. ]

Of course. [ He keeps his voice even, academic, as he reaches for the vial and lifts it to his cheek. ] It's the only fluid my body still produces.

[ jayce could easily say the same. for what all that unbearable pain was worth, he's actually healed. viktor has healed him. used magic in his name. his own damn tears or whatever it could be called. it was— beautiful, even in dolor. jayce could see that. and while he wishes to question and ask and ask and ask to satiate scientific curiosity, there is something . . . of much greater priority. it is in the way the suffocating, bone-deep hunger, anger and anxious cold sweats subside at viktor's grounding presence. it is in the way even the maddening itch and irregular pastel chips embedded in his skin, under his clothes has soothed, now. like applying a balm. it is in the way jayce's breath catches when he feels viktor about to retreat, and his heart's pleading for him to stay. it is is as fufilling as it is missing. closeness at a distance. intimacy at a secure orbit that leaves . . . something to be desired. jayce can only describe it as missing what they used to have.

this leaving and staying nonsense is starting to become a habit, isn't it? jayce just can't seem to bring himself to frustration to the same degree as he'd been some weeks prior. he is . . . tired, right now. he wants peace. he tries not to feel anything beyond understanding resignation when his hands are guided back to being kept to himself. part of jayce still feels foiled, somehow.

like most things these days, he keeps it to himself. strangles it in hopes of never seeing it again, in fact. it's easy enough to sidestep when jayce glances down at his torn pants and runic residue. the urge to apologize once more for the burden surges, but jayce bites it back. ]

. . . Thank you.

[ the look in his eye is earnest. it wants to say so much more than that, but the arch in jayce's brow says even more: he doesn't know how to say more. he's feeling a lot more than he could even begin to put into words. ]

[ Viktor finds it difficult to withdraw his hand from Jayce's, and yet he forces himself to go through with it. Tears are a precious commodity, not because they're rare but because they come in such small quantities yet seem to hold such great potential. He couldn't waste the opportunity to catch this one right after depleting his stores for a spell. There's also a guilt in lingering on Jayce's touch because he wants it for the wrong reasons, yearning for more than companionship and warmth. Perhaps there had been a moment, there at the end that hadn't really been much of an end, where Viktor had thought...

No, that hadn't been the point of Jayce's fight to get in his head. He'd promised that older Viktor to end Hextech, end the arcane, and so end Viktor. Everything had been for a purpose, predicted and calculated to bring about the desired end—everything now is an accident that they're navigating together. He's come to terms with the fact that they can't be parted, both because Jayce is too stubborn to let him go and Viktor, selfishly, doesn't want to be let go. It makes things difficult that he doesn't want to be perceived in his current state and much prefers the times they spend together in shared dreams where he can look human, look somewhat desirable.

Selfish. He'd been the reason for Jayce to die, the reason he'd been dragged here, and now he dares to want more. It's a desire he'll never act on, knowing it would ruin him to finally find something that drove Jayce away for good.

The thanks pulls Viktor from his thoughts and he hums in reply. Their eyes meet and something seizes inside of Viktor's chest to see some of the softness in Jayce's eyes as he looks back upon Viktor's broken, metal face. Silently begging for it to not be pity, he nods. ]

As if I would let you suffer. [ Corking the vial of tears and tucking it back away in his bag, he leans closer to inspect his handiwork. ] Do you think you can stand?

[ something another version of him had, once. whether out of duty or conviction or whatever, and jayce could get it, but hearing such eased him in a way that his resentment, if he had any buried yet, dies out. with his hands fidgeting and pulling his fleeting gaze from becoming quite the long stare (not with anything melancholic and more . . . grateful, wishing to see him and wishing to have him stay for eternity), jayce plants his palms to the floor and begins adjusting. one thing to note is the more agressive, pooled heat at the base of his abdomen has also dissolved. a quiet relief. that was embarrassing. alarming, to find in the mix. ]

It's— A little numb.

[ —oh. duh. with a sudden shake of his head and huff, jayce unstraps the leather belts, releasing the tourniquet and easing the bloodflow back to the limb. he smiles a bit, forgetting the crimson stains on his teeth and flashing his gap in what could've been sheepish as he directs his attention back to fixing the straps at a more proper bind. better this than act flustered (but it's too late for that). ]

I think my staff is, [ he waves, all as he tries to lift himself off the floor by using the counter, the walls. he manages well enough, but testing the weight he can put on it and the angles that protest, to be sure, he points outside and steadies himself at the register. eventually, he comes up short. he can't find it with a simple scan. ] somewhere. Damn it.

[ luckily, they're in a pharmacy. there should be canes and crutches somewhere. if there were, jayce pretends he doesn't see them. that staff was the perfect height, a perfect base for crafting once he found a sharp enough knife to carve away at it. he even had the idea in his head, already. just needed enough paper for the schematic.

but perhaps he's just being stubborn. the tingle makes him grit his teeth as takes a supported step forward, his bad leg as responsive as a noodle; it's the kind of tickle that makes him cringe from sole to thigh, gripping at its top and giving it a few wake up slaps. not with pain, but discomfort.

he'd rather be asking the questions he's lined up in his head. ]

[ Now that the immediate danger has passed, Viktor has the time to notice blood in Jayce's mouth. It's concerning because of the implications it may hold—internal bleeding, or a tongue bit from the pain of healing, or any number of things in-between. Jayce may be focusing on relieving the numbness and adjusting his brace, but Viktor is leaning in close and resisting the urge to grab him by the chin. ]

Did you bite your tongue? Or the inside of your cheek?

[ He stands along with him and holds Jayce at the elbow to help steady him. It would be an easy thing for him to go retrieve the staff, but something about Jayce hobbling forward impatiently makes him snort a scoff of impatience himself. Moving his hand from Jayce's arm to around his waist, he scoops him up and carries him to the door. ]

Blood. Mouth. Explain.

I—

[ oh, the sound jayce makes is startled and indecent. he flusters completely and sputters his words to be put down in an incoherent tremble, turning a similar shade of purple to viktor's evolved muscle mass. he keeps his head low and reaches for the ground with the toes of his boots as soon as possible to signal his return back to eaeth. hr was not ready for that. he was not expecting that. he doesn't even know how to say thanks i guess. the words kind of align, but the embarrassment has him thinking twice about being stubborn again.

it's funny that part of him is still skipping through a field, right with his heart. the hot pool settles right back in his belly and seeps up his neck to invade his face with heat. that's too many emotions to catalogue right now.

for the record, he's grappling with the fact that he liked it, on top of feeling embarrassed, both that it looked like he needed it as much as they buried enjoyment. great. there's nothing better than denial.

jayce attempts to recompose, trying to rub the flush away from his face and failing when it still paints his ears. focus. focus on this. it'll do you better, talis. ]

I . . . I Bit her. [ not out of desperation or planned defense, but when the scuffle was close enough— it's like his primary weapons were teeth rather than fists, or using one of his tools. just raw instinct rather than intellect. it was rather alarming, when he stopped to think about it with more clarity. he always comes up short of an answer. shaking his head, jayce drops his hands close to his sides. ] I don't know what came over me.

[ Viktor hears the sound, feels the struggle, and ignores it. Casting the spell had riled him up in unpleasant ways, unearthing thoughts that would be better off buried forever if he has anything to say about it. There's no future for that line of thinking, no reality at the end of the fantasies. The embers smoldering in his belly may be volatile enough to flare up with the smallest spark, but that doesn't mean he's going to willingly give himself over to the flames.

He's also frustrated about how difficult it had been to get the spell to take and feeling drained from it, no matter how good the final release had felt. Viktor considers himself smart enough to have properly calculated the amount of effort required for healing, especially with the catalyst of something as potent as tears, and yet... It was so different from his mastery of the arcane back on Runeterra, and with so little experience, he's facing the fact that he needs to return to the drawing board with his equations.

So he's not putting Jayce down because he wants to find his staff and return to their museum sooner rather than later. It's still cold outside, far from ideal weather for Jayce to be out on his own yet again. With him held close as Viktor steps out through the broken window at the front of the pharmacy, he can see the flash of Jayce's teeth as he admits to having bitten someone. ]

Her insanity must be contagious. [ It's a cruel sentiment, but he's not exactly Jinx's number one fan at the moment. She had such potential to do good, but she was mired in her love for destruction and pain.

Leaning in closer towards Jayce, Viktor cocks his head to the side. ] Open your mouth, please.

[ jayce scoffs to that, airy and preferring such irritabilities over jinx than focusing on the hot tingle still burning at the edges of his cheeks. or perhaps that had been the blatant ignoring of his want for the floor again . . .

it seems jayce is at a crossroads. he blinks up at viktor, startled by the request, and perhaps even more startled by how much the proximity affects him. urgently, he begins to protest, all too aware of the cool metal on his back, and the weight of viktor's arms around him. ]

Wh— Viktor, put me down first, [ he starts, feeling his eyes dart a little too fast. jayce's pulse hammers loud enough that it drowns out thought, and for a stupid, suspended second, he wonders if viktor can hear it too— feels the ridiculous heat climbing his neck. softer, he tries: ] you can't just—

[ just look at him, like that. jayce stops cold upon the words stuttering in his throat and failing to rise. in fact, there's something stuttering in him right now. jayce can't peel his gaze away from viktor. his calm is infuriating.

this isn't much, just a shift of weight, but jayce feels it like gravity pulling him under. the fine brush of viktor's shawl against him, the faint heat radiating from the lines of metal and flesh, the way his shadow spills over him entirely. for a breathless second, jayce cannot tell if viktor is doing it on purpose or if that's just . . . him now. larger. closer. very changed, but still viktor all the same. clinical and astute and to the point. he wouldn't ask if he didn't have a good reason.

and it's not like jayce wants him to back away, either, which is just one more strike to his already shattering pride, or resistance, or both. his breath sputters, and jayce relents with a sag of his shoulders, a hushed fine, and his heart hammering so harshly that it hurt.

his lips part, he opens his mouth. and there, already, is a change. ]

Edited 2025-09-02 04:06 (UTC)

No. You need your staff and it's quicker for me to carry you to it. [ There is a wicked temptation to carry him all the way back to the museum now, to just grab the staff and cradle it along with Jayce so they can get out of the open and discuss the spell and Jinx and everything that had transpired while they were parted. Viktor really is going to need to figure out some way to track Jayce if he insists on leaving and getting himself in trouble—the irony isn't lost on Viktor after being scolded for setting off on his own after arriving in the city.

Along with the practical reasons for keeping Jayce in his arms is the underlying and selfish desire that he can't help linger on. It reminds him of the fight in the council room, pinning Jayce down through a borrowed vessel, attempting to seduce him with partnership to rid the world of all the flaws he'd seen as weakness, illness. (He still doesn't agree with Jayce's opinion that there could be beauty in terminal disease nor congenital disabilities, but... the sentiment had held enough merit on its own.) If he thinks too hard about the fact that he has strength enough to lift Jayce and hold him, even knowing that he could probably fight he way out of the embrace, makes something dark and dangerous in Viktor purr.

No. Focus. He's looking Jayce in the mouth and focusing on the academic reason he'd asked to see in the first place: Jayce's teeth are undoubtedly sharper, wicked fangs on both the top and bottom. Viktor had spent enough years in the lab watching those teeth flash through laughter, then more time as the Man of Progress smiled down at him from posters and banners. This mouth, with blood staining the edges of too-sharp teeth, feels unfamiliar to him. ]

Have you noticed you've grown fangs? [ Now, getting back to the museum quickly really is the bottom line, and as they pass Jayce's fallen staff, Viktor pauses just long enough to lean over and grab it before hurrying on down the street. ]

[ jayce keeps his eyes trained back to avoid making eye contact like this, at most managing a brief roll of his eyes back— he never really felt comfy at a dentist but having to sit in viktor's arms rather helplessly just takes the award in making him feel flustered and, by extension, uncomfortable. the startle does not stop there; when his partner begins to move again, jayce takes it as a signal to shut his gaping mouth and— oh, dear gods.

jayce hangs on for dear fucking life when viktor leans down with incredibly lanky arms to pick up his staff, his entire center of gravity thrown off— more of a visceral reaction to keep himself from falling, although viktor has already gathered him enough to keep that from happening. jayce cannot help brief glances to viktor's profile, catching closer glimpses of a delicate face split by metal and the glow of his still functioning eye. the other side: honeycombs, should the viel ever lift. he still has his hair. still has his moles. the delicate close of his former eye gives the impression that he's sleeping soundly.

the pounding in his ears feels sharp. jayce looks away. the last time they were this close was in a hole, freezing under the floors of an abandoned academy. he seems to be more hyperaware, and rather than needing the warmth in the sharp nip of this winter cold, jayce is feeling too hot in it. ]

. . . You're kidding, right?

[ he barely looks at himself, these days. even by the reflection of glass windows, jayce avoids looking at himself for long. it had become a combination of haunting, unrecognizable features and just not caring how long his beard grew as a whole. jayce eventually scoffs, either at the thought or the fact that he's still being carried and powerless about it, or perhaps both at once, all too mask the unease he feels as he curls a hand around the staff and rolls his tongue over his incisors, then canines—

and holy shit. he could. he could cut himself on it if he wanted to? fascination creeps in with unease, and the reality hits when he tests to points. his mouth had been hurting recently, felt dry— but denial that anything could be changing simply stuck to the possibility of having muscle aches from grinding his molars at nighy, or not having enough fresh water. perfectly normal reasons.

ivan— the young man he came across in a separate hole, immediately comes to mind. half centipede body, fangs, completely changed, and leaning so quickly into it. was the same thing happening to him? what was he becoming? an uncomfortable hand squeezes his sleeves tight. underneath, where the maddening rashes itched and bled for weeks, was now irregular, raw and . . . he'd patched them. he doesn't know how they look, now. he feels crawling, occassionally. ]

It's not just that. My skin— it's changing, too.

Teeth changing to be more predatory in a place where we've seen mutation of species and the presence of magic? I may be an asshole at times, but I would not kid about this with you.

[ He's also making no sign of setting Jayce down as he's well aware they'll make better time if he just carries him the entire way. Offering the staff to him to hold, more out of convenience than necessity, he wraps both arms tightly around Jayce to keep him cradled against Viktor's chest as he strides forward. There's more power and confidence in his steps now compared to how he sometimes lurks in shadows and slinks between them; clearly, he's on a mission and doesn't have the spare mental space for self-deprecation. ]

You haven't told me this. [ If his skin is changing, it begs the questions of what Jayce may be turning into and why. Viktor hasn't exactly been a social butterfly, so the few people he's actually seen in person have all been humans, or at least appeared as such. ] When did you first notice it?

[ A few more blocks and the museum looms into view. Viktor avoids the front doors and makes for a side entrance they'd discovered and decided to use as a more easily defendable point of egress. Finally setting Jayce down, he opens the door and holds it for him to limp through, aware that the problems with his leg haven't been fully solved. ]

[ heh. gods. jayce doesn't know whether to smirk or frown, does some strained sort of in-between as an i know is groaned somewhere at the back of his throat. nothing about viktor, in the mean time, goes unnoticed. jayce is stuck in his arms, tight against the tight metalic muscle of his torso— what else was he supposed to be, other than observant to the hairsplitting detail? every step of his is an assurance. viktor had been confident in other things throughout their partnership, more intellectual matters but not this— this was a new side of him given wings. it's compelling. impressive. coupled with his sharp whit, stimulating.

stimulating . . .

—oh, thank god, they're here. after a few ums of being unable to formulate anything coherent, a scraping throat too dry for his own good, jayce slips off onto his own two feet and clips the end of the staff on concrete floors for stability. it aches far more than being carried, but at least he doesn't have to deal with the underlying shame in being weak enough to be carried.

and that was only the butt of it. he needs to remind himself that it's actually safe, now. they're safe. they could rest. they were . . . not home, but in whatever space they've made for themselves. he could take his damn time in getting to a bench, or better yet, the wide atrium dedicated to science and innovation where they've spread blankets and cushions for sleep just under skylights. ]

A few days before this all started. [ he lifts his shoulders a bit, ] I thought they were just— rashes, and blisters from the brace. Had those since . . . Before you found me.

[ so it was just normal at that point, fixed with impromptu padding. ]

[ Regardless of where Jayce picks to settle, Viktor instead beelines to the nearby cache where they've been stocking up on supplies—water, preserved food, and miscellaneous medical and scientific implements are stacked and arranged as neatly as they can be in a sheltered alcove. Removing his bag to hang it back in place, he hesitates before doing the same with the runic shawl, instead tossing it over a shoulder. If Jayce isn't going to get himself food and water, Viktor will gather for him, playing provider. A water bottle, packaged beef jerky, and something called GORP accompany him to the center of the atrium where Jayce is disclosing information that he definitely should have shared earlier. Then again, Viktor had avoided him for a while, and then they'd be focusing on their interpersonal issues rather than intrapersonal ones. ]

May I see? [ Folding his legs beneath him, he sits down on a patch of the nest they've built up with whatever soft and warm things they could find. Viktor doesn't really sleep anymore, but it's at least comforting to have a patch of space to sit on as he keeps watch through the nights.

He offers Jayce the water and food as well as the shawl, tempted to wrap it around shoulders that were once so broad but leaving it up to the man himself to decide if he wanted the extra warmth. ] We should keep an eye on these transformations rather than ignore them.

[ jayce massages his thigh as he sits, the cold air through the rip in his pants spiking through it and offering a chilly balm to the pain, or perhaps tightening the strain all the more— he doesn't know, yet. he just knows it's uncomfortable. usually they made healing magic look fantastical, back to health in a beat. it is not like that, he'd report. he does seem to be studying viktor's handiwork when he returns with food, water and . . . shawl. jayce's double-take goes to the care offered. this was— much easier to accept that picking him off the ground and carrying him for blocks. the surprised look in his amber eyes is softer than the flustered startle of being lifted.

he takes the supplies in one hand, and reaches for the shawl with the other that almost seems . . . tentative. like testing the magnetizing connection drawn to his fingertips already. like it would spark, if they touched, or that viktor would retreat if he moved too fast. ]

Right, [ he should add, now with a regretful fall of his gaze, ] sorry, I—

[ it wasn't on purpose. setting the supplies aside, jayce slips his jacket off, first, to make it easier to bunch his sleeves to see his wrist; messily wrapped in bandages that are barely holding, and for that, jayce had the rush of moving from place to place to avoid hosts to blame. his pants are already done for, so . . . with a short detour to unclasping his brace, he's just going to finish ripping those down to his shin. it's the same way, but no bandages: fabric sticks to fresh, bloodied patches angering his ugly, colorful scarring. some patches were still humid, others were already thickly scabbed over. unnaturally so.

jayce is a little uneasy to see them now, and curses under his breath when he pinches some fabric and tries to pry it off with a wince. ]

I wasn't hiding it. I was just— distracted.

[ by plenty of things, indeed. their relationship. recovering. surviving the bloodmoon, getting separated, then jinx. ]

[ If Viktor still had his arcane abilities, the healing would have been like that; he could have healed the bullet wound and reset the bones beneath which Jayce remained oblivious to it, mind protected by an astral shroud. As it is, Viktor is fighting just to do simple spells that require combining arcane runes with those he's discovered in the city and its dreamscapes.

Shaking his head at the apology, Viktor remains silent as Jayce works. A moment later and he lifts his left hand to bare his wrist where a circle of the runes for light have been permanently written around like a tight bangle carved into his skin. Soft light, colder than from a flame or the sun, more like starlight, glows from his skin and illuminates a circle around them while long shadows extend from behind their backs. He hopes that it helps Jayce with the buckles of his brace, which they should start planning to improve, as well as shed some literal light on the rashes that he slowly reveals. It helps distract Viktor from the way Jayce rips his pantleg off and the scarring revealed.

The patches look angry from the emergence of the rashes as well as being rubbed against by clothing or metal or fingernails. Leaning closer, Viktor hovers his right hand over the largest patch but resists touching because of the obvious discomfort it had caused Jayce to peel back the bandages. Beneath the fresher scabs that look like their regrowing something other than skin, he can see scars that are uncomfortably familiar in color and pattern. From the memories of the ravine Jayce had shared with him, that time spent in an alternate Piltover had felt like a million years away; it's difficult to be reminded that Jayce was still suffering from the effects of breaking his leg and then never receiving medical attention for it. ]

Have you at least been cleaning it? [ Viktor resists taking a jab at their promise to be honest with each other, knowing it would just be unproductive. ] This looks freshly infected.

[ if only every distraction of viktor's magic in the works could fix him as much as it did his attention. big, owlish eyes to soak it up. a glance of pure, youthful wonder and a barricade of questions filed in his brain, aligned in order of importance and greater curiosity. it's on the tip of his tongue, plays with his lips—

it lasts as much time as jayce needed to listen to viktor's question enough to focus on an answer instead. jayce groans at the news, tipping his head back and distracting his vision with the atrium's view of the night sky above, no longer an angry, foreboding crimson, thank the gods. when jayce brings his head back to get a look at it himself, his lip lifts and bright strands of silver on dirty chestnut glints in the magic's guiding light.

god damn it, not again. ]

Not as I should've, [ he confesses, and not without a sorry drop in his tone. ] but I did what I could. With what I had.

[ nevermind that he looks like he's walked into a bloody fountain and let the remains dry. not his, at least. ]

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cw: mentions of past suicide attempt

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