[ 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.
[ hah, jayce breathes, and for a moment it's simply left at that. jayce knows he has many questions still, all ready to be asked now that his (semi healed?) wound is dressed, leather wrapped around his wrist and thumb still playing with it like a prize won. was it rightfully his? viktor's? theirs? when he looks up, damn, does he have a start, but . . .
jayce cannot seem to say anything of substance once his eyes are back up. a fuse in the circutry has snapped, or buzzed, and he just . . . watches viktor, in an extended stupor of thoughtfulness. how much he's helped, how much he's done for jayce, how much it felt like he was just some huge fucking weight lately . . . "good boy".
there're too many emotions attached to that for jayce to take apart, but he's startled. curious. er— he shoves it under a rug before he can think of it any more. not that what ever else is pulled from the backdrop is any better. the bone deep hunger he'd felt when the moon bled black and red, and the soothing effect viktor's presence had on that. the emptiness fades. the heated anger withdrawls. the warmth at his core . . . remains, but at a different drip. more contained. ever present. jayce parts his mouth to speak, but nothing quite comes out— at first, because a blip in his thoughts has him unsure of what to say when striken by so much at once.
that is, until the heavens come to save his ass. a reflection of blue slides across viktor's frame from the windows high above them. then another, green. another, pink-blue. until the prismatic twinkles spread over the floors. ]
What's—?
[ the sky outside beckons, a blanket of northern lights. ]
[ Jayce looks up at him, and for a moment, Viktor expects him to quickly avert his eyes. He had coerced him into promising not to stare, and yet lately, Viktor can't help wondering if he should have been more specific that it didn't mean he wasn't allowed to look at all. So when the gaze lingers, when it feels like they're slowly moving closer together as if drawn by magnetism, he doesn't shy away nor scold Jayce for looking, for seeing. If his eyes could peer beyond the surface of Viktor's mangled mask, or maybe even perceive it with anything other than pity and disgust, maybe there could be a little hope for him yet.
Those plush lips part silently, and Viktor nearly lurches forward. It's like a pull at the center of his chest, a hunger that isn't his that he's compelled to feed. The feeling is terrifying if not foreign, an instinct that could so easily destroy the gentle peace they've tentatively built up between their broken bodies.
He turns away as Jayce finally speaks and, for a terrifying second, thinks he might have moved enough to have Jayce questioning him. But no, he turns and his face is met with soft colors playing across it through the windows above, and he raises himself towards it in wonder. ]
[ jayce can't see much of it from here, just the reflections, the afterglows, the little jerk of viktor's body moving towards him from the corner of his eye pointed high above them, possibly because of a thought that jayce needed something. he watches, just as another slide of color catches on viktor's metalic sheen and paints him a seafoam green, decorated in magenta-gold highlights from the cap of his middle finger to the altered ligaments that braid with dark matter.
beautiful. the corner of jayce's lip twitches into a smile, as he catches the thought, and he knows full well what he's looking at. who he's looking at, and jayce couldn't swell any more at the thought that if there was a singular thing surviving has gifted him, and that he'd never trade, was viktor presence. i>viktor's thoughts, viktor's actions, viktor's mind . . . beautiful.
there's beauty in imperfections.
jayce's teeth catch his lip as he dips his head down and away from the heat that rises, thankful that it's rather dark and perhaps too colorful to notice. yeah. he didn't know where his head was, maybe desperate and ready to die with viktor knowing just what he felt. all of which, jayce wasn't sure would come up with such ease, now. they've just . . . only just . . . managed to have smoother interactions. less arguements, more conversations. he couldn't tighten the bolts into a strain, not now.
think fast . . . ]
Could be better with a view. [ jayce knows he just got here, finally resting, brace off— but with a renewed resolution, he's going to pad the inside of the brace before strapping back up, from thigh to shin. he could cover up the tears in his pants with blankets, clean up while he's at it with any amount of spare cloths and water, and save the clothes shopping for after a plausible few hours of resting . . . yeah. he just wants to take viktor up there, now. ] If you can get my stick, we can go to the roof.
[ The windows may offer glimpses of the lights, but he can already assume that it doesn't do justice to a full display in uninterrupted sky. It still surprises him when Jayce suggests they go out to see it, though, especially when the roof means taking stairs and his legs is still healing. But when he looks down at him, at the face he knows so well beneath the unfamiliar lines and facial hair, sees the colors reflecting in his hazel eyes, Viktor knows that he doesn't have it in him to deny Jayce. ]
It's still cold out. [ His tone is factual rather than combative, wondering if Jayce will change his mind. Viktor has always known how much his partner dislikes the cold and the snow, the memories it brought back of struggling to survive. Curious that the same experience would make him so in love with magic. ] We'll need to bring blankets as well.
[ eh, well— the beauty of the northern lights and watching them with viktor felt worth it. a little lul from the rest of the night earlier which was, up until this point, a real shit show. and if he wasn't going to sleep now, he'd much prefer to watch the lights and pick viktor's brain.
jayce is already shuffling to stand upright. ]
Make sure it's enough, then.
[ the hint of a smile is still on his face, even as he winces through the strain of standing. gathering his staff under him, closing the shawl over his shoulders tight and movingover to their supplies. going to take some things on the way up to make their lives easier. ]
[ That makes Viktor pause and regard Jayce, and if he had the facial features to do so, he'd be raising a questioning brow. Him make sure? Jayce is the one who wants to do something potentially uncomfortable, and Viktor isn't going to baby him forever.
Maybe just one night.
He huffs and looks away, but not before he notices the wince. Standing and easily overtaking Jayce as they walk in the same direction, he recovers the makeshift staff and offers it to Jayce. With that settled, he can return to the pile of blankets to grabs a few and hastily fold them up so he can carry several in his arms. ]
You should eat some protein to help with the healing. And drink more water.
[ viktor must understand this has suddenly become a team effort, a mutual hangout. he has been dragged into the company of interlude that they could very well use, and jayce has managed to find something to be in good spirits about— despite everything. the only appeasing indicator that his intention means well is the hopeful mood he's put in. if, at least, the light waft of pleasant anticipation is anything to go by. thank you, he murmurs, letting his gaze stay for a second longer to watch viktor return to blanket plucking.
besides, jayce too, is preparing to bring quite a few things with. it only dawns on him when he picks up two tin cups from their supply corner that viktor no longer drinks. they could not share in the meager liquids they've harvested. shortly after, it dawns on him that he also does not eat, and won't be sharing in the protein he'd eagerly considered bringing extras for.
the dejection hits him so sharply viktor might be able to hear the jut of his split, lower lip as he tries to . . . recallibrate his direction with this. ]
Uh . . . Yeah, I was— going to. [ . . . ! his bag. where was his bag— he had a few books in there from when he first met sharon, he hasn't had the chance to show them to viktor. shuffling through the belongings, jayce finally manages to pull out two moderately sized books that could fit in a hand. in all honesty, they were easy reads in terms of length, especially for scholars. but he'll get to sharing once their up. little sachel of water, food, some blankets that he can manage over his own shoulder and the books. time to go up. ] For us, actually.
[ but he holds the books up, to quickly smooth the hit of that honesty out, ]
[ He doesn't see the hesitation nor the way Jayce has to reboot his mental systems to recalculate for reality, but he does hear a bit of a huff and comes closer to see what's causing the frustration. Two cups. Honestly, they shouldn't even have two cups to begin with, but vessels were useful for more than just drinking. It dawns on Viktor that Jayce had been planning for him to drink and maybe eat as well, and though the sentiment is sweet, it also reminds him of what he's lost. While it's beneficial that he doesn't have to partake in all of the necessities for human survival, it might have been nice to have the option. As a treat.
Clearing his throat, he leans down closer to look at the books, eye shining with curiosity. He's been to a library, but it takes far longer just to peruse titles now than it ever had back in Piltover. Reading English has become easier with practice, but it's hardly second-nature at this point. ]
[ jayce does a little double take, brows raising until the entirety of his features crinkle with fondness. one look at his pants and, gods. a nightmare, but jayce had been appreciative of viktor's sharp minded humor. the many things he's missed of him.
this was indeed proving to be the better distraction compared to the night's happenings. jayce's tooth gap flashes for an instant. ]
Right. The height of Piltovian fashion, [ gives himself even a little gesture from head to toe: brace, staff, ripped pants and bloody top. jayce had already made his final choice of apparel in piltover a statement: that he was uneven, assymetrical and no longer fit into their casing. he's almost certain there might be blood still stuck to his gums, too. ] they'd pass out from the crassness.
[ by his tone, jayce almost nearly implies good. he's not going to change himself again.
Good. [ He'll speak it for them both, the distaste for the Piltovan elite and their need to control the undercity, benefit from its goods and services, without taking the time to care about the people living there. If Viktor thinks about it too much, he'll get riled up rather than wind down to relax and look at the sky. ]
Oh, but first, you really do need some new clothes. [ Setting down all of the blankets he'd just gathered up, Viktor goes to a corner that's been unofficially designated as his, the spot where he keeps his bag with its notebook and pencils, vials of tears and thin brushes. There's also a few lumps of fabric, and he grabs two before returning to Jayce. ]
I found these and thought they would fit you. [ On top, a faded green sweater clearly knitted by a machine from how neatly the rows align, and beneath it, a pair of caramel-colored pants made of some kind of canvas or corduroy. ] They'll be warmer than what you have on now. And less bloody.
[ there are two things that strike jayce, then. first, that he really needs to get his game together. he's barely paid attention to such things, too alarmed and hyperfocused on survival or violence or pain to think about basic amenities until they actually begin to bother him during the lull. if it weren't for viktor . . . hell, he'd be in places. doing much worse.
to think viktor thought about him that was is even honey sweet. trying not to let the surprise draw out across his wrinkles, jayce takes the clothes, exchanging them for the hold on his things and shaking his head, beaming, almost— ]
You're something else. [ he needs to start taking better care of himself. ] Thank you.
[ he'll . . . go over to the stairway to change, then. door cracked enough for the lights to shine through as the shirt and pants come off in full. battle jacket, while bulky, desperately needed some cleaning, so he could make do with a blanket or two over his shoulders. behold, he does return looking a pinch less like he's been through the ringer; not a tight fit, actually rather loose.
[ Viktor takes everything but Jayce's staff from him when he hands over the clothes, thinking about how it will be easier for them to carry things up in a box rather than willy nilly. Maybe he is babying Jayce too much at the moment, but they'd shared an intense moment earlier during the spell and there's a strange sort of afterglow softening Viktor. He doesn't want to linger on that, nor on the way the pain of struggling with the spell had shifted to pleasure on the turn of a dime. ]
You're... welcome. [ It feels strange to say when all he's doing is looking out for his partner by providing something that he needs. Fresh clothes, if not entirely clean thanks to years of dust, would be better to change into after a shower and and uninterrupted night of good sleep, but this will have to make due.
Turning away from the stairs, he busies himself with putting Jayce's supplies into a box, focusing on the task rather than looking through the shadows. He's just curious, he tells himself, worried about any hidden wounds and the rest of the rashes he hadn't been able to examine. If they're more prominent on the arcane scarring on his leg, Viktor hates to think what Jayce's back might look like. ]
[ it looks like a pain, for the record. feels that way, too— but scratching his back was more complicated a task, with the wide spread of cracked scabbing a little too raw to dig his nails into. it was sore . . . especially after sticking to any wet spots in his clothes, remedied now with a change and a quick touch up on bandaging. he could ask viktor for help, later.
only because jayce too, wishes to see the lights and talk the night's troubles away rather than giving them both more to stress over. he needs a god damn break. it might just be jayce's own overthinking, too (or a hunch?) that has his fishing for disarming words that could ease this odd discomfort between them. maybe it wasn't even discomfort, just . . . an awkwardness jayce didn't want them to feed.
humor always did a good job at deflecting. everything about jayce's movement now announces him. the thunk of the staff, the click of the brace. he gestures to himself as he approaches from viktor's side, shrinking his arms under the cover of the blankets warming his shoulders. ]
I think I'm ready to tell the academy about the good old days.
[ there's nothing wrong with viktor's choice, and he's well aware of scarcity— perhaps he is just simply aware of his own appearance and attempting to accept it sooner rather than later: he does look ten years older. fifteen? the streaks in his hair does not help his case. ]
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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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jayce cannot seem to say anything of substance once his eyes are back up. a fuse in the circutry has snapped, or buzzed, and he just . . . watches viktor, in an extended stupor of thoughtfulness. how much he's helped, how much he's done for jayce, how much it felt like he was just some huge fucking weight lately . . . "good boy".
there're too many emotions attached to that for jayce to take apart, but he's startled. curious. er— he shoves it under a rug before he can think of it any more. not that what ever else is pulled from the backdrop is any better. the bone deep hunger he'd felt when the moon bled black and red, and the soothing effect viktor's presence had on that. the emptiness fades. the heated anger withdrawls. the warmth at his core . . . remains, but at a different drip. more contained. ever present. jayce parts his mouth to speak, but nothing quite comes out— at first, because a blip in his thoughts has him unsure of what to say when striken by so much at once.
that is, until the heavens come to save his ass. a reflection of blue slides across viktor's frame from the windows high above them. then another, green. another, pink-blue. until the prismatic twinkles spread over the floors. ]
What's—?
[ the sky outside beckons, a blanket of northern lights. ]
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Those plush lips part silently, and Viktor nearly lurches forward. It's like a pull at the center of his chest, a hunger that isn't his that he's compelled to feed. The feeling is terrifying if not foreign, an instinct that could so easily destroy the gentle peace they've tentatively built up between their broken bodies.
He turns away as Jayce finally speaks and, for a terrifying second, thinks he might have moved enough to have Jayce questioning him. But no, he turns and his face is met with soft colors playing across it through the windows above, and he raises himself towards it in wonder. ]
It's beautiful.
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beautiful. the corner of jayce's lip twitches into a smile, as he catches the thought, and he knows full well what he's looking at. who he's looking at, and jayce couldn't swell any more at the thought that if there was a singular thing surviving has gifted him, and that he'd never trade, was viktor presence. i>viktor's thoughts, viktor's actions, viktor's mind . . . beautiful.
there's beauty in imperfections.
jayce's teeth catch his lip as he dips his head down and away from the heat that rises, thankful that it's rather dark and perhaps too colorful to notice. yeah. he didn't know where his head was, maybe desperate and ready to die with viktor knowing just what he felt. all of which, jayce wasn't sure would come up with such ease, now. they've just . . . only just . . . managed to have smoother interactions. less arguements, more conversations. he couldn't tighten the bolts into a strain, not now.
think fast . . . ]
Could be better with a view. [ jayce knows he just got here, finally resting, brace off— but with a renewed resolution, he's going to pad the inside of the brace before strapping back up, from thigh to shin. he could cover up the tears in his pants with blankets, clean up while he's at it with any amount of spare cloths and water, and save the clothes shopping for after a plausible few hours of resting . . . yeah. he just wants to take viktor up there, now. ] If you can get my stick, we can go to the roof.
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It's still cold out. [ His tone is factual rather than combative, wondering if Jayce will change his mind. Viktor has always known how much his partner dislikes the cold and the snow, the memories it brought back of struggling to survive. Curious that the same experience would make him so in love with magic. ] We'll need to bring blankets as well.
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jayce is already shuffling to stand upright. ]
Make sure it's enough, then.
[ the hint of a smile is still on his face, even as he winces through the strain of standing. gathering his staff under him, closing the shawl over his shoulders tight and movingover to their supplies. going to take some things on the way up to make their lives easier. ]
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Maybe just one night.
He huffs and looks away, but not before he notices the wince. Standing and easily overtaking Jayce as they walk in the same direction, he recovers the makeshift staff and offers it to Jayce. With that settled, he can return to the pile of blankets to grabs a few and hastily fold them up so he can carry several in his arms. ]
You should eat some protein to help with the healing. And drink more water.
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besides, jayce too, is preparing to bring quite a few things with. it only dawns on him when he picks up two tin cups from their supply corner that viktor no longer drinks. they could not share in the meager liquids they've harvested. shortly after, it dawns on him that he also does not eat, and won't be sharing in the protein he'd eagerly considered bringing extras for.
the dejection hits him so sharply viktor might be able to hear the jut of his split, lower lip as he tries to . . . recallibrate his direction with this. ]
Uh . . . Yeah, I was— going to. [ . . . ! his bag. where was his bag— he had a few books in there from when he first met sharon, he hasn't had the chance to show them to viktor. shuffling through the belongings, jayce finally manages to pull out two moderately sized books that could fit in a hand. in all honesty, they were easy reads in terms of length, especially for scholars. but he'll get to sharing once their up. little sachel of water, food, some blankets that he can manage over his own shoulder and the books. time to go up. ] For us, actually.
[ but he holds the books up, to quickly smooth the hit of that honesty out, ]
But I think I have something better.
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Clearing his throat, he leans down closer to look at the books, eye shining with curiosity. He's been to a library, but it takes far longer just to peruse titles now than it ever had back in Piltover. Reading English has become easier with practice, but it's hardly second-nature at this point. ]
Well, after you, mister fancy pants.
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this was indeed proving to be the better distraction compared to the night's happenings. jayce's tooth gap flashes for an instant. ]
Right. The height of Piltovian fashion, [ gives himself even a little gesture from head to toe: brace, staff, ripped pants and bloody top. jayce had already made his final choice of apparel in piltover a statement: that he was uneven, assymetrical and no longer fit into their casing. he's almost certain there might be blood still stuck to his gums, too. ] they'd pass out from the crassness.
[ by his tone, jayce almost nearly implies good. he's not going to change himself again.
although he will accept new pants. ]
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Oh, but first, you really do need some new clothes. [ Setting down all of the blankets he'd just gathered up, Viktor goes to a corner that's been unofficially designated as his, the spot where he keeps his bag with its notebook and pencils, vials of tears and thin brushes. There's also a few lumps of fabric, and he grabs two before returning to Jayce. ]
I found these and thought they would fit you. [ On top, a faded green sweater clearly knitted by a machine from how neatly the rows align, and beneath it, a pair of caramel-colored pants made of some kind of canvas or corduroy. ] They'll be warmer than what you have on now. And less bloody.
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to think viktor thought about him that was is even honey sweet. trying not to let the surprise draw out across his wrinkles, jayce takes the clothes, exchanging them for the hold on his things and shaking his head, beaming, almost— ]
You're something else. [ he needs to start taking better care of himself. ] Thank you.
[ he'll . . . go over to the stairway to change, then. door cracked enough for the lights to shine through as the shirt and pants come off in full. battle jacket, while bulky, desperately needed some cleaning, so he could make do with a blanket or two over his shoulders. behold, he does return looking a pinch less like he's been through the ringer; not a tight fit, actually rather loose.
dapper young-grandpa ready to give lectures. ]
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You're... welcome. [ It feels strange to say when all he's doing is looking out for his partner by providing something that he needs. Fresh clothes, if not entirely clean thanks to years of dust, would be better to change into after a shower and and uninterrupted night of good sleep, but this will have to make due.
Turning away from the stairs, he busies himself with putting Jayce's supplies into a box, focusing on the task rather than looking through the shadows. He's just curious, he tells himself, worried about any hidden wounds and the rest of the rashes he hadn't been able to examine. If they're more prominent on the arcane scarring on his leg, Viktor hates to think what Jayce's back might look like. ]
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only because jayce too, wishes to see the lights and talk the night's troubles away rather than giving them both more to stress over. he needs a god damn break. it might just be jayce's own overthinking, too (or a hunch?) that has his fishing for disarming words that could ease this odd discomfort between them. maybe it wasn't even discomfort, just . . . an awkwardness jayce didn't want them to feed.
humor always did a good job at deflecting. everything about jayce's movement now announces him. the thunk of the staff, the click of the brace. he gestures to himself as he approaches from viktor's side, shrinking his arms under the cover of the blankets warming his shoulders. ]
I think I'm ready to tell the academy about the good old days.
[ there's nothing wrong with viktor's choice, and he's well aware of scarcity— perhaps he is just simply aware of his own appearance and attempting to accept it sooner rather than later: he does look ten years older. fifteen? the streaks in his hair does not help his case. ]
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