[ jayce breathes in, takes note of probing eyes on him, his leg, his thin face and tattered body. he has to keep his weight off his left for the duration of his time standing in place, and even then, the microexpressions of tension pinch the bridge of his nose. his pain wouldn't lessen with time when the bones had joined at a misguided angle, when he'd spend nights too long without food or water. if there were any of it, it'd make him ill for another cluster of days.
viktor is not the only one observing; jayce has his eyes of the man's features, the fullness of his face and the angles of his cheeks. how he shuffles with his cane, and how straight or curved his back is. how his eyes are still so . . clever. how he missed his astuteness. rather than confusion and curiousity, jayce's gaze is melancholy and nostalgically longing.
he breathes in, holds the air in his lungs, and breathes out. how he missed this.
but how does he explain this? jayce is at a crossroad. ]
Have you looked into Wild Runes, yet?
[ possibly not, given his overall state of health— but jayce couldn't be certain. this timeline could be different in ways he wouldn't imagine. ]
no subject
viktor is not the only one observing; jayce has his eyes of the man's features, the fullness of his face and the angles of his cheeks. how he shuffles with his cane, and how straight or curved his back is. how his eyes are still so . . clever. how he missed his astuteness. rather than confusion and curiousity, jayce's gaze is melancholy and nostalgically longing.
he breathes in, holds the air in his lungs, and breathes out. how he missed this.
but how does he explain this? jayce is at a crossroad. ]
Have you looked into Wild Runes, yet?
[ possibly not, given his overall state of health— but jayce couldn't be certain. this timeline could be different in ways he wouldn't imagine. ]