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. ]
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. ]
[ Viktor glances at Jayce's face, the boyish wonder that cannot be deluded even by pain, and smiles inwardly. It feels cheap to think that he had been the origin for that delight in the first place, that he had saved Jayce for selfish reasons that he still didn't quite understand. If the arcane was so evil, why plant the obsession in young Jayce's mind? He could have easily rescued the Talises without making such a big fancy show of it, or without giving Jayce the stone. Was it simply because in all timelines, in all possibilities, Viktor couldn't imagine giving up the time he'd had with Jayce? Was he really so rotten as to doom so many people to death all so that he could have a lab partner and close friend for a few years before dying?
It makes his chest clench tight with emotion to think about what the world would have been like without Hextech and to wonder if he might have met Jayce under other circumstances. Then again, would he have been interested in the other inventor without that passion in his eyes? The emotion in his voice when he spoke of magic? It's impossible to say, and they'll never find out now. ]
You're a mess. [ He says it with fondness that doesn't give anything away about the serious thoughts churning through his mind. ] If you can sit still through a thorough cleaning, I have a gift for you.
[ if he was giving a puff of a laugh under his breath (a mess, right, something he always managed to be even when he tried not to) is masked by the rub of his fingertips against his face until they find the reflective jewel crown surrounding his hairline. jayce pushes past it and allows viktor his work without interruption, but . . . his exhaustion parts to make way for surprise. an almlst startled look in his eyes partially melts away the tension, making him fond and inquisitive underneath his veil of suffering. he doesn't remember when they've ever exchanged gifts— it was mostly ideas, staying up late and excitedly losing themselves in research, in tiny "gifts" that amounted to more funding, getting their hands on an expensive shipment of rare metals or, even better— results. there had been the new cane and brace jayce forged for viktor, but—
for some reason, it didn't compare to this out of the blue occassion. ]
Well, [ jayce shifts, just enough to get himself comfortable to stay in the same position for a while, bunching fabrics in his hands and exposing his leg for full medical display. ] now I have to behave for once.
[ Replying with a soft hum of laughter himself, silent agreement that it will be behaving "for once," Viktor gets to work. They're lucky that he doesn't require the same kind of necessities for survival, allowing them to save up more food and water and medical supplies simply on the fact that only one of them is using anything. They aren't hoarding by any means, though, and Viktor would happily share with anyone who asks for aid.
With Jayce agreeing to sit tight, Viktor is able to boil some water to sterilize it and then set to using a combination of antiseptics and alcohols to clean the rashes. As he wipes away old scabs and caked on blood, he can tell that something is emerging from beneath the skin and leans in to get a closer look. What he sees reminds him of the fingerprints adorning Jayce's forehead: solid bits of shimmering material that catch the light now that they've been mostly revealed. ]
They look like... scales. [ He says it with disbelief as he catches the water before it boils over and sets it aside to cool. Leaving for a moment, he returns with his satchel and retrieves a roll of clothes from inside which reveals a series of neat little tools that he's scavenged. He cleans a small pen knife by holding it in the flames for a moment before dousing it with rubbing alcohol, shaking it dry before tapping the broad edge against one of the pieces of... whatever the hardened skin beneath the scabs is. ] What does that feel like? Something lodged in your skin, or something attached to it?
[ jayce spends most of his time hiding his grimaces, pushing out sighs pent up from straining his fists in fabric and allowing viktor to clean without any interruptions through his movement. it's not until he mentions scales that the man props himself upright, stiffly but disbelieving.
lo and behold, he catches a glint in the dark, in the expanse of offered light from viktor's runework. he almost forgets to answer when the uncanny shimmer reminds him of his scars in thr iridescent way they poke out from the cleaned scabbing. he almost— doesn't know what to satly. he had a dream, once, before here, twisted into a beast before the vines of the ruined world swallowed him. he can't remember what it was with detail. it is stuck at the tip of his tongue. ]
—Uh, [ refocusing, jayce dips his head back and forth while he defines the sensation . . . the scalpel-like tool has his breathing hitch, mostly to brace himself for anything that could be painful, but— the scars only flex, and so do the scales. ] Attached, but— feels lodged in others.
[ likely where they still push to breach the skin's barrier. it doesn't take half a moment for jayce to turn the wheel and already see them at a microscope. he nods to that amd braces furthet. ]
[ Viktor looks up at that, searching Jayce's face for a moment, but he doesn't bother to ask if he's certain he wants to go through with it. He knows his look of determination, the lines of his brow when he's set his mind on something, and Viktor can't deny that he's curious to examine the growth more closely. If Jayce's body is changing, they need to figure out how and why if they want any hopes of slowing or reversing the transformation. Giving a curt nod, he deftly slides the blade of his scalpel beneath the scale and presses the pad of his thumb to the top, creating makeshift tweezers. He begins to inhale like he's steadying himself but quickly yanks the scale free before Jayce can tense up in anticipation. It comes away clean, a bit of blood at the edge that had been buried deepest in the skin.
Dropping the scale into an empty vial and setting it aside for later, he cleans the wound once more and wraps it in fresh fabric to hopefully keep further infection out. With the important task at hand, he carefully packs up his supplies and tucks them back into his bag as the fire crackles next to him. Between its heat and the soft nest covering the floor, the atrium was quickly becoming much warmer and cozier. ]
We'll examine that later. For now, your reward for being a good boy.
[ Reaching into the neck of his scarf, he withdraws something and holds his hand out to Jayce in offering: his leather cuff with a familiar blue stone embedded in the middle, golden Talis crest adorning the buckle. Holding it out to Jayce like this reminds him of that night they'd allied themselves in a clandestine partnership, of reaching out to someone equally lonesome in his pursuits that looked like a ticket out of Viktor's stagnation as well as his solitude. ]
Don't ask me how it's here or where it came from. I found it laid out for me like I was meant to find it. [ Which had been strange, considering it belonged to Jayce, but maybe it was a means of bridging some of the space between them. ]
[ better a quick pinch than slow, painful pull. well, it's still rather painful, but the keyword there is quick. with the scale plucked, jayce feels only a pinprick that has him briefly wince, but by the time his lips feel the pressure of his front teeth and his palm squeezes under his leg, it's already over.
viktor did have talent in his fingers. jayce gives an approving nod, and looks appreciative. hell, he's admiring his partner's swift work and glad that he's matching his freak in wanting to learn more about the changes rather than scolding him for being weird. he supposes they are both fairly . . . weird. two sides of the same coin, or something.
it's not weird to think that at all, either. you know what else isn't weird? the gut reaction he has to good boy. for a little more than a second, jayce is incredibly glad that he doesn't have the time to ponder it nor the skip in his chest nor the temptation of heat on his face. because there is something of an old friend being held out to him, and jouncing jayce back into the past. it is not only a symbol of their salvation, their partnership, what was once a prized possession, turned invasion of his body, then aa token returned to the man who had saved his life— this changes everything. fingers brush into the inorganic twist and turns of viktor's enlarged hands to retrieve the leather brace, jayce's eyes spark with nefound hope and treasure— ]
This means— [ he gestures with it, and almost a question, but undoubtly a smile that twitches the corners of his smudged, chipped lips: ] There's a way back—?
[ The warm brush of calloused fingers makes Viktor wish he could close his hand around Jayce's just to feel more of those worn, strong hands in his. Instead he pulls back when the bracelet has been returned to its owner, curious what Jayce's reaction might be; Viktor had barely believed his eyes when a bone crumbled apart to reveal the lost treasure. He's seen the memory of the leather disappearing and the runestone embedding itself in Jayce's wrist, and there are still scars there to prove it even if the stone had been destroyed in the arcane hurricane of their making. The last thing he imagines is Jayce seeing it as a way back. ]
Back? [ There's a frown in his voice, confused and trying not to be hurt. Of course Jayce wants to return to Piltover, he has family and friends and a future there if only he can make his way home. Viktor has nothing to look forward to apart from being ostracized at best, imprisoned at worst, alone again and made to pay penance for his crimes because death had failed to take him. ] Jayce, the pieces were destroyed in two different timelines. The fact that it exists here is a paradox.
[ something in jayce clicks in telling him that this upsets viktor to some degree— but quickly, almost defensively, he recalibrates with an answer: because he is worried about home, he has no way of knowing if everyone is safe or not, and if things couldn't go back to the way things were, by the gods he still wanted to know and he still wanted to try. ]
Aren't we a paradox? [ that didn't stop them from existing— and what if it wasn't destroyed? with the bracelet and runestone still in hand, jayce gestures with it. ] We have to try, at the very least try and— I don't know, communicate with someone—
[ with his thoughts racing, disorganized and mapping out points of concern a mile a minute, jayce's lips thin tightly together and brows pull into a pinched arc— he conveys exasperation. ]
No. That stone was destroyed, or at the very least removed from its band and fused to your wrist. Now they're here together and intact? For that to be true, what happened to us couldn't have happened.
[ Even if somehow, the bracelet had been brought from a different point in time, then that would still cause a paradox by not being in Piltover for Jayce to bring to the end of the arcane. That's not necessarily the topic that Viktor is focused on the most, however, because the thought of trying to communicate with Runeterra terrifies him with the possibilities of what they might learn. What if they hadn't done anything to stop the evolution, nor the spread of the arcane? What if all of that pain had been for nothing? What if Viktor had been willing to die for what had ultimately been a lost cause?
Tensing, Viktor wraps his arms around himself to fold into the smallest machine herald he could be. ]
[ jayce's jaws tense at the thought of that making sense, and viktor knows quite a lot about the arcane, too much for him to properly retort. there's little arguement in a space viktor knows like the back of his hand, and while it may be difficult to admit . . . he was right. the crystal and rune were powerless, the fantastical hum whirling from beneath its uneven edges was gone, and who would realize that more . . . than jayce, himself?
there's something worse that prods at jayce's attention, and it is the fact that he cannot stand viktor thinking so little of himself, even if the world were against him there was one other person that would always be by his side— ]
That's not true, [ instantly, the words come, rush off his tongue without any second thoughts in how it sounds because it's nothing but the truth. and his hand extends to the herald's back, fingers catching at a hem of fabric that wedges his hand between the knobs of his metal vertebrae and his blanket. ] your place is with me.
[ jayce searches for viktor's wounded gaze, and viktor would surely feel it: reflective jewels and golden eyes in the dark, all on him. ]
And we'll carve ourselves a new place in Runeterra. I don't care where it is— [ jayce's voice catches, and he slips his hand from the other's back to his arm. ] As long as I'm with you, I . . . Don't need anything else.
[ just news, for him to rest easy. but he could easily gain that by word of mouth. rumors. easy enough. right?
[ Jayce stumbles over the words in his haste to get them out, making Viktor wonder if it's because he knows that hesitation will come across as disingenuity. What he doesn't anticipate is the tough to his back, fingers against the protrusions along his spine that are like vestigial remnants of the rods that had helped hold him together and upright before. Your place is with me. He says it so easily and without knowing how much that means to Viktor, how much it could mean if he let himself sink into the dark corners of his mind.
His face turns towards Jayce, neck craning because he can't see him until his one good eye is able to rest on that familiar face turned to strange. Everything he's saying fills Viktor with longing, wishing that Jayce could mean all that he says in the way that Viktor truly yearns for. That's not the truth of it, though, and it's not a possible future no matter how badly he might want it. ]
Jayce... Look at me. I don't think there's a place for me in Runeterra.
[ there he is; and when viktor finally looks back at him, jayce has nothing but affection at its highest peak. not pity, it is empathetic affection, and hopeful to boot. jayce keeps one hand on the runestone, but the other slides to viktor's back once more as he leans closer as if to urge the idea forward, power it up. ]
I bet there could be. [ and with a beat, hopeful and perhaps a little foolish: ] We don't need much.
[ Looking at Jayce in silence, drinking in his face from so close and savoring the softness that smooths the lines of pain and hardship carved there, Viktor sighs. He's starting to realize that no matter how much he tries to free Jayce from the burden of his company, he's going to care too much to abandon him. ]
I suppose the only way to send you back would be if I go with you. [ He reaches over to rest a hand on Jayce's knee. ] We both know you'll get into trouble if you're alone.
[ a brief beat brings jayce to a huff. well, yes— and obviously so. but warms him even more is the weight pressed around the circle of his knee. the entire thing is gone under gold capped fingertips and shining knuckles. jayce feels a shiver running up his back to his scalp, but tries his best to ignore the tingle spreading through his scalp. ]
If I haven't proved that yet, I'd question my efficiency.
[ with a small smile that clings to his lips like a winter chill before autumn ends, jayce's eyes downcast with a small realization of a warm sort of awkwardness he doesn't want to pull away from just yet. encircling the leather bracelet in his free hand and noticing in the dimness of night, it still shimmers like stars in his eyes— he gestures at it.
he has a hunch, despite being obsessive. viktor's opinion mattered, it always did, so he has to ask again, as if to confirm what he's already seeing: a runestone that has lost its power, but not its meaning. ]
. . . You really think it can't be done?
[ it's still . . . beautiful. for some reason or another. more than he remembered. ]
[ The closeness is disarming, reminding Viktor of nights spent in their lab with chairs pulled close together as they poured over notes and shout hypotheticals back and forth, parrying with rebuttals. It would be so easy to return to the way things were if it weren't for the constant reminder of what he's become, the weight of it on his body, the cold of his touch that he's certain Jayce must instinctively wish to flinch away from given his past traumas with low temperatures.
But, for the moment, it's nice. Viktor can pretend that Jayce looks past the hard metal skin and the broken face and sees him as he would appear in a dream: strong, healthy, handsome enough if not conventionally so. Not a monster, not his former self, but the man he always thought he could be under better circumstances. ]
Nothing is impossible. [ He shrugs beneath the borrowed warmth of the shawl draped across his shoulders and back. ] I just... wonder if that is the genuine article, or a facsimile. The gem has no power in it.
We can find out, [ he runs his thumb across one of the fractile surfaces, cut clean like crystal. it felt the same. the leather around the gem's embem was even chaffed from friction, just as it used to be. ] run some tests.
[ jayce could not shake off the second feeling that denotes a stroke of . . . objection towards running the risk of damaging or losing the stone altogether. it was just . . . beautiful and meaningful and— his, now. ]
—Tomorrow. [ jayce, hold off on experimenting and studying something for the next day? he could blame it on how exhausted he is. he doesn't want to admit to the fact that he doesn't want to lose the runestone so soon, keep it close— because it's almost a weird thought to have, once that never crossed the forefront of his thoughts when he was well without it, only a scar staining his wrist in its wake. ] As a gift, though, [ he encircles the bracelet with his palm, now, removing his hand from viktor to clip it back onto him, jayce murmurs, soft and yearning, almost: ] Thank you.
[ Viktor is far from surprised that Jayce suggests doing science now that they've had a runestone, inert or otherwise, fallen into their laps. The addition of starting tomorrow, however, does catch him slight off-guard; historically, neither of them have been good about putting personal needs ahead of experimentation or other pursuits of knowledge. Jayce must be truly tired to think of holding off tests, or else realize they don't have their lab at hand to run things instantly. It will take time to salvage parts to make the kind of equipment necessary to figure out if there is any of the arcane left in the stone.
The thanks startles him a bit, making him chuckle. ] As a gift, it was just returning to you what is rightfully yours.
[ There's also a selfish part of him that's happy to see it cover the arcane scaring, the pit where another gem had been pulled from Jayce's wrist to serve as a catalyst for their deaths. ] But, you are welcome all the same.
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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. ]
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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.
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[ 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. ]
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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. ]
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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.
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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. ]
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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.
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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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It makes his chest clench tight with emotion to think about what the world would have been like without Hextech and to wonder if he might have met Jayce under other circumstances. Then again, would he have been interested in the other inventor without that passion in his eyes? The emotion in his voice when he spoke of magic? It's impossible to say, and they'll never find out now. ]
You're a mess. [ He says it with fondness that doesn't give anything away about the serious thoughts churning through his mind. ] If you can sit still through a thorough cleaning, I have a gift for you.
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. . his exhaustion parts to make way for surprise. an almlst startled look in his eyes partially melts away the tension, making him fond and inquisitive underneath his veil of suffering. he doesn't remember when they've ever exchanged gifts— it was mostly ideas, staying up late and excitedly losing themselves in research, in tiny "gifts" that amounted to more funding, getting their hands on an expensive shipment of rare metals or, even better— results. there had been the new cane and brace jayce forged for viktor, but—
for some reason, it didn't compare to this out of the blue occassion. ]
Well, [ jayce shifts, just enough to get himself comfortable to stay in the same position for a while, bunching fabrics in his hands and exposing his leg for full medical display. ] now I have to behave for once.
[ he too, sounds fond. ]
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With Jayce agreeing to sit tight, Viktor is able to boil some water to sterilize it and then set to using a combination of antiseptics and alcohols to clean the rashes. As he wipes away old scabs and caked on blood, he can tell that something is emerging from beneath the skin and leans in to get a closer look. What he sees reminds him of the fingerprints adorning Jayce's forehead: solid bits of shimmering material that catch the light now that they've been mostly revealed. ]
They look like... scales. [ He says it with disbelief as he catches the water before it boils over and sets it aside to cool. Leaving for a moment, he returns with his satchel and retrieves a roll of clothes from inside which reveals a series of neat little tools that he's scavenged. He cleans a small pen knife by holding it in the flames for a moment before dousing it with rubbing alcohol, shaking it dry before tapping the broad edge against one of the pieces of... whatever the hardened skin beneath the scabs is. ] What does that feel like? Something lodged in your skin, or something attached to it?
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lo and behold, he catches a glint in the dark, in the expanse of offered light from viktor's runework. he almost forgets to answer when the uncanny shimmer reminds him of his scars in thr iridescent way they poke out from the cleaned scabbing. he almost— doesn't know what to satly. he had a dream, once, before here, twisted into a beast before the vines of the ruined world swallowed him. he can't remember what it was with detail. it is stuck at the tip of his tongue. ]
—Uh, [ refocusing, jayce dips his head back and forth while he defines the sensation . . . the scalpel-like tool has his breathing hitch, mostly to brace himself for anything that could be painful, but— the scars only flex, and so do the scales. ] Attached, but— feels lodged in others.
[ likely where they still push to breach the skin's barrier. it doesn't take half a moment for jayce to turn the wheel and already see them at a microscope. he nods to that amd braces furthet. ]
Pull one out.
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Dropping the scale into an empty vial and setting it aside for later, he cleans the wound once more and wraps it in fresh fabric to hopefully keep further infection out. With the important task at hand, he carefully packs up his supplies and tucks them back into his bag as the fire crackles next to him. Between its heat and the soft nest covering the floor, the atrium was quickly becoming much warmer and cozier. ]
We'll examine that later. For now, your reward for being a good boy.
[ Reaching into the neck of his scarf, he withdraws something and holds his hand out to Jayce in offering: his leather cuff with a familiar blue stone embedded in the middle, golden Talis crest adorning the buckle. Holding it out to Jayce like this reminds him of that night they'd allied themselves in a clandestine partnership, of reaching out to someone equally lonesome in his pursuits that looked like a ticket out of Viktor's stagnation as well as his solitude. ]
Don't ask me how it's here or where it came from. I found it laid out for me like I was meant to find it. [ Which had been strange, considering it belonged to Jayce, but maybe it was a means of bridging some of the space between them. ]
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viktor did have talent in his fingers. jayce gives an approving nod, and looks appreciative. hell, he's admiring his partner's swift work and glad that he's matching his freak in wanting to learn more about the changes rather than scolding him for being weird. he supposes they are both fairly . . . weird. two sides of the same coin, or something.
it's not weird to think that at all, either. you know what else isn't weird? the gut reaction he has to good boy. for a little more than a second, jayce is incredibly glad that he doesn't have the time to ponder it nor the skip in his chest nor the temptation of heat on his face. because there is something of an old friend being held out to him, and jouncing jayce back into the past. it is not only a symbol of their salvation, their partnership, what was once a prized possession, turned invasion of his body, then aa token returned to the man who had saved his life— this changes everything. fingers brush into the inorganic twist and turns of viktor's enlarged hands to retrieve the leather brace, jayce's eyes spark with nefound hope and treasure— ]
This means— [ he gestures with it, and almost a question, but undoubtly a smile that twitches the corners of his smudged, chipped lips: ] There's a way back—?
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Back? [ There's a frown in his voice, confused and trying not to be hurt. Of course Jayce wants to return to Piltover, he has family and friends and a future there if only he can make his way home. Viktor has nothing to look forward to apart from being ostracized at best, imprisoned at worst, alone again and made to pay penance for his crimes because death had failed to take him. ] Jayce, the pieces were destroyed in two different timelines. The fact that it exists here is a paradox.
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Aren't we a paradox? [ that didn't stop them from existing— and what if it wasn't destroyed? with the bracelet and runestone still in hand, jayce gestures with it. ] We have to try, at the very least try and— I don't know, communicate with someone—
[ with his thoughts racing, disorganized and mapping out points of concern a mile a minute, jayce's lips thin tightly together and brows pull into a pinched arc— he conveys exasperation. ]
Viktor— We don't belong here. That's all I mean.
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[ Even if somehow, the bracelet had been brought from a different point in time, then that would still cause a paradox by not being in Piltover for Jayce to bring to the end of the arcane. That's not necessarily the topic that Viktor is focused on the most, however, because the thought of trying to communicate with Runeterra terrifies him with the possibilities of what they might learn. What if they hadn't done anything to stop the evolution, nor the spread of the arcane? What if all of that pain had been for nothing? What if Viktor had been willing to die for what had ultimately been a lost cause?
Tensing, Viktor wraps his arms around himself to fold into the smallest machine herald he could be. ]
I don't belong anywhere, Jayce.
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there's something worse that prods at jayce's attention, and it is the fact that he cannot stand viktor thinking so little of himself, even if the world were against him there was one other person that would always be by his side— ]
That's not true, [ instantly, the words come, rush off his tongue without any second thoughts in how it sounds because it's nothing but the truth. and his hand extends to the herald's back, fingers catching at a hem of fabric that wedges his hand between the knobs of his metal vertebrae and his blanket. ] your place is with me.
[ jayce searches for viktor's wounded gaze, and viktor would surely feel it: reflective jewels and golden eyes in the dark, all on him. ]
And we'll carve ourselves a new place in Runeterra. I don't care where it is— [ jayce's voice catches, and he slips his hand from the other's back to his arm. ] As long as I'm with you, I . . . Don't need anything else.
[ just news, for him to rest easy. but he could easily gain that by word of mouth. rumors. easy enough. right?
but they can't do that here. can they? ]
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His face turns towards Jayce, neck craning because he can't see him until his one good eye is able to rest on that familiar face turned to strange. Everything he's saying fills Viktor with longing, wishing that Jayce could mean all that he says in the way that Viktor truly yearns for. That's not the truth of it, though, and it's not a possible future no matter how badly he might want it. ]
Jayce... Look at me. I don't think there's a place for me in Runeterra.
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I bet there could be. [ and with a beat, hopeful and perhaps a little foolish: ] We don't need much.
[ but he is earnest when he says it. ]
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I suppose the only way to send you back would be if I go with you. [ He reaches over to rest a hand on Jayce's knee. ] We both know you'll get into trouble if you're alone.
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If I haven't proved that yet, I'd question my efficiency.
[ with a small smile that clings to his lips like a winter chill before autumn ends, jayce's eyes downcast with a small realization of a warm sort of awkwardness he doesn't want to pull away from just yet. encircling the leather bracelet in his free hand and noticing in the dimness of night, it still shimmers like stars in his eyes— he gestures at it.
he has a hunch, despite being obsessive. viktor's opinion mattered, it always did, so he has to ask again, as if to confirm what he's already seeing: a runestone that has lost its power, but not its meaning. ]
. . . You really think it can't be done?
[ it's still . . . beautiful. for some reason or another. more than he remembered. ]
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But, for the moment, it's nice. Viktor can pretend that Jayce looks past the hard metal skin and the broken face and sees him as he would appear in a dream: strong, healthy, handsome enough if not conventionally so. Not a monster, not his former self, but the man he always thought he could be under better circumstances. ]
Nothing is impossible. [ He shrugs beneath the borrowed warmth of the shawl draped across his shoulders and back. ] I just... wonder if that is the genuine article, or a facsimile. The gem has no power in it.
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We can find out, [ he runs his thumb across one of the fractile surfaces, cut clean like crystal. it felt the same. the leather around the gem's embem was even chaffed from friction, just as it used to be. ] run some tests.
[ jayce could not shake off the second feeling that denotes a stroke of . . . objection towards running the risk of damaging or losing the stone altogether. it was just . . . beautiful and meaningful and— his, now. ]
—Tomorrow. [ jayce, hold off on experimenting and studying something for the next day? he could blame it on how exhausted he is. he doesn't want to admit to the fact that he doesn't want to lose the runestone so soon, keep it close— because it's almost a weird thought to have, once that never crossed the forefront of his thoughts when he was well without it, only a scar staining his wrist in its wake. ] As a gift, though, [ he encircles the bracelet with his palm, now, removing his hand from viktor to clip it back onto him, jayce murmurs, soft and yearning, almost: ] Thank you.
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The thanks startles him a bit, making him chuckle. ] As a gift, it was just returning to you what is rightfully yours.
[ There's also a selfish part of him that's happy to see it cover the arcane scaring, the pit where another gem had been pulled from Jayce's wrist to serve as a catalyst for their deaths. ] But, you are welcome all the same.
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