after his forced work leave (stemmed from a horrid accident with a loose hammer, a skittish clydesdale and his leg), a dark time and months where he'd considered ending everything from the chronic pain, financial failure and miscarried expectations in having the simple family business thrive— jayce found strength to get up and try again. one more time.
maybe it was his mother, who wouldn't be able to carry the name to fruition by herself. not only would jayce leave behind a disaster for her emotionally, she'd de wracked in debt. he was an only child, his father retired and sick. maybe it was also the inkling of hope in this grey, dreary world that urged him to relearn how to walk, pick up his hammer and forge the shoes champion jumpers won competitions with.
it's nothing flashy nor prized, but his parents always said their humble work was dignified. that was true enough. no shoe, no horse, but no one really thought that when a treasured stud was worth more than a house. jayce had bigger plans, sustaining himself with dreams that could almost seem impossible to achieve. sketches of special shoes that would heal injured hooves, even legs, and save the beautiful life behind the money and prestige. but . . . what else did he have? what else would give his life worth and greater meaning? sometimes he feels like anger alone is keeping him alive— he refuses to be a worthless grain in the sand. he needs to accomplish something.
the manor that wishes to hire him is the biggest one he's seen. he'll have his own quarters, food and drink, somewhere to sleep. in turn they want exclusivity and all his focus on the horses. they must be fed, groomed, turned out, with stalls mucked. they'll all be shoed down to the individual gate with the talis eye, and on top of that, paid handsomely.
it's enough to start paying all that debt and getting out of it in a few years, if he can keep their interest. he plans on it. jayce has already put the thought to truth: it's not going to be the trainers' work getting the horses to win. it's going to be his work. he'll been seen for it. he has to.
jayce's arrives with little on his back: two changes of clothes at most, a book to write in, his apron and tools. he's given the house's uniform, toured around the stables and where he'd be staying. work started on the same day. this family believed in him for something, so he's going to work until he's gotten every single thing down and finished.
he's being talked about, already, and sad to say other house employees don't have many good things to say to begin with. a scruffy, too quiet disabled man. would he even be able to pick up a horse leg? he cares more about the horse's names than the hour they should be groomed and ready for the riders. they don't give him a week before he's sent away. ]
What had once been a refuge from a provincial life of dinner parties and horse races was now a cramped and noisy bore. He looked back on his younger self, when he’d arrived with wide eyes and wider dreams, as childish—in the several years since, he’d not found a single soul that could satisfy his hunger. While other men (and some women) of his age and stature were seeking company in brothels and bars, Viktor had toured colleges and laboratories in search of mental stimulation. His peers—if they could be considered as such—gorged themselves on gossip while Viktor built towers of scientific articles in foreign languages he learned but would never get the chance to speak.
His own accent wavered the longer he stayed wrapped in the international, eclectic waters of the port city, stayed away from his parents’ lectures at him to stop dreaming and start acting. He knew why they did it, but really came to understand it with a few more years under his belt; they wanted him to continue their legacy rather than create one of his own. Perhaps they were right, too, for no matter how long Viktor lived in the city, he never once found the intellectual partner he yearned for.
It didn’t help that, year after year, the world around him remained grey and colorless in such stark contrast to his technicolored dreams.
So Viktor returned home, riding up the main drive of his family’s estate on a horse worth more than the average man’s yearly salary. He would send for his effects later—his restless nature meant that, once he’d made his mind up, he could not sit still a moment longer in his well-furnished and yet empty-feeling apartment.
Time stood still out here in the countryside. Trees grew taller and their leaves changed color—so he was told, as he could only distinguish the changes in tone—yet the world always looked the same as when he was a little boy. The wildflowers filled the air with the same sweet perfumes, the birds sang their songs until the cry of a fox silenced them, and the humidity clung to his skin beneath the riding suit that hugged his body in well-tailored fashion. Life had always been this, so vivid in all senses other than what he could see with open eyes.
It was a surprise to the staff when he walked in through the main doors, even more-so when he announced his intention to stay. They hurried into action freshening up his room as he went straight to his father’s study, greeting him and then asking after his mother to do the same. It didn’t take more than a day to hear of the new stable hand, one that his father saw promise in despite all of his employees whispering the opposite. ]
Talis. [ He tastes the name’s flavor, letting it sit on his tongue that was already falling back into old, accented habits. It rang a small bell in his mind, perhaps from reading it somewhere. ] I think it’s time to meet this new stable boy. Bring him to the library.
[ it took a bit of adjusting to get the forge organized to jayce's tastes, but once he's done with that, it's to work. each horse has a stride, and none of them are perfect. jayce creates a lot of craft ahead of him that he probably wouldn't finish in a day, of which he doesn't actually have to do— but to be different, to stand out, he does. every single horse in this stable is going to need a repair trim. the ones that don't or can't because of a prior cut too short has him mumbling and complaining under his breath— who the hell trimmed this horse? and this one? what the hell kind of shoe was it wearing? an assistant, young and taut, only listens, nods, and does what he's told when jayce asks him to walk the horse in varying speeds.
no wonder it was reported as stubborn, lately— the fit was uncomfortable. detrimental, if it was worn for too long. jayce spends all afternoon taking notes on a single chestnut coated mare's gate by the name of Riosilitta. well, whatever "chestnut" is. all he sees is grey.
removing her fit already eases her posture, but doesn't fix the uneven slant in her hooves. she'll need custom shoes for that, each one different than the last to accommodate a specific leg. and it's there that jayce begins to shape them. the forge is hot and the clanking of molten metal is relentless. when a staff member visits to escort jayce to the young master, she calls him uncouth for working without a shirt on. the audacity!
he has his obvious reasons, but that goes more or less ignored. i'm busy, he'll grunt, and continue on with his work. he's not about to give what he thinks is a snobby child his undivided attention for play time when he's busy. if the boss didn't order it, too bad.
but she insists, annoyingly so, says something or other about it being of poor taste, especially if it fell to the ears of the mother and father. the young master was just as important around these parts.
reluctantly and pissed to be interrupted, jayce wipes the sweat and excess soot off of him, fits his uniform top which . . . is already dirty and reeks of horse and ash, before he limps along with his escort. he looks nowhere appropriate to enter the manor— his bangs stick to his temples and there are smudges of grit on his nose and cheek. his permanent brace clicks along with his step, which makes him heard like a bull wearing a cowbell.
in front of the library. augh, he's so annoyed. what does he want, to be read to? aren't there people for that? why me? jayce would have to settle with he asked for you, specifically. following a knock, the woman opens the grand, tall doors into the atheneum and announces their arrival.
jayce steps in only when told, not sure what to expect, and not exactly the friendliest of faces. he's searching for . . . a bratty kid, and does not find one. ]
[ Focused on a sheaf of papers in his hands, Viktor doesn’t look up immediately when he hears the library doors open. Eyes skimming a paragraph, his thin fingers reach blindly for a pencil to make a quick note before he gets distracted. ]
Thank you for making time to meet me, Mr. Talis. I’ll be with you in a moment. [ Scribbling down a few words, and then circling a promising schematic of gears, Viktor sets down both papers and pencil to push back his chair. His leg twinges as he stands, still stiff from the ride home a few days prior, and he leans a hand against the solid wood surface of the desk to help negotiate his weight around its corner. ]
Forgive me for the late introduction. [ He finally lifts his gaze, and though he hadn’t had any preconceived notions about what the new farrier might look like, he’s surprised nonetheless. The fact that this man is naturally scruffy, the soot of a forge still clinging to his clothes, might have displeased Viktor’s parents while having the opposite effect on their son; impressing his employers with pomp and circumstance doesn’t seem to be a priority for this young Mr. Talis.
Stepping closer, limp more prominent than he would have liked it to be while giving a first impression, he offers a hand in greeting. ] I’m Viktor.
[ jayce is caught off guard, to say the least. any miffed kinks in his stressed features relax, his guard comes undone. maybe it was the other man's polite greeting and lack of any, ah . . . well, snobbish sneering or anything. he walks with a limp, a little more to equally prominent to his own without support. viktor even extends his hand, to which, jayce's gaze flits between his eyes and his sooty, callous palms, which he's sure couldn't have gone unnoticed.
hesitant, jayce extends his own slowly, gives a bit of a gesture as if to say, "it's dirty", and leaves actually taking the shake to viktor if he chooses. he's about ready to give up, seeming a touch abashed. which is strange, he doesn’t really care about that. now? he's suddenly hyper aware he smells (and looks) like smoke and horse shit in a room that wafed lilac and lemon shavings. ]
I was, uh— in the middle of something.
[ an unspoken "sorry", if viktor's hand is now printed with the shadow of hard work, fire and dusty iron. so absolutely rough, in contrast. ]
[ Viktor sees, and hopefully doesn’t imagine, Talis’ stance melting with a bit of relaxation. Spending time in the nearby capital made Viktor acutely aware of how rude some of his class peers could be towards those they deemed as “lower” than themselves. Perhaps it’s because of his disability, but those looks of pity and disgust often tainted glances in Viktor’s direction.
Looking down at the hand hesitating to take his own, Viktor bridges the gap and clasps it firmly. ] My apologies, Mr. Talis. I won’t take much of your time, but I hope you don’t mind me sitting. [ He pats his leg before sinking into a nearby armchair.
It’s then that he notices the glint of metal wrapped around one of the farrier’s legs. His gaze lingers before lifting back to the beared face hiding kind eyes. ] You’re welcome to sit, unless you need to get back to your middle of something immediately.
[ the surprises don't stop. baffled, he looked, especially with such delicate hands in his now, nearly disappearing in the curl of his thicker fingers as he shakes in turn. he's different from his parents.
jayce's gaze finds the pristine, empty armchair, and he certainly falters, adjusting his stance and throwing his weight from one sole back to his stronger one. it's tempting, he'd like to, but . . .
that'd be one more thing he'd leave dirty, here. he quietly shakes his head and continues on his feet, preserving his left side. ]
It's alright.
[ his eyes, of brighter values, certainly were more tender than his appearance. viktor's, as he stares, has something sharp and witty about him. intelligent. sympathetic, if he's not wrong on his current reading. it's the only thing that keeps him from leaving immediately. jayce had grown a little distrusting over the years, but that didn't mean he wouldn't give chances to those he thought deserved it.
[ The rejection of comfort isn’t taken as a slight. Though Viktor now has to look up at Mr. Talis, he’s been forced to sit through enough of his life to have learned how to carry himself as someone worthy of respect while physically below others. He also knows how priceless the moments are when he doesn’t have to give in to his chronic pain and can remain on the same level as someone—perhaps this is such a moment for his guest. ]
Ah, you’ve seen straight through me. [ Viktor’s lips quirk up in a guilty little smile. ] Aside from the pleasantries of introducing myself, I wished to satisfy some curiosity. My father told me your family name, and it rang a bell. [ At least enough to have Viktor looking into why it could be that he found it familiar and instead found several news articles. ] You’re something of an innovator, Mr. Talis.
[ stern doe eyes immediately release into a startled widen, not at the mention of his family name, that was obvious to those who care anything about farrier quality. his father left a legacy that felt too big to fill at times. it's not that. it's the word innovator. no one usually thought so, not even when they saw his ideas. it won't work, they'd all say. you'll cripple ny horse with that nonsense. even his own parents have tried to discourage him: can't you just stick to our regular shoes? his obsession for creation would barely extinguish. ]
Where did you see that?
[ from a bit displaced and uncertain, now, jayce has given all of his utmost attention to viktor. he's— interested. stimulated. one may even say hopeful, with how his light grey eyes shimmer. ]
[ For a moment, Viktor fears he may have overstepped, but it soon becomes obvious that the startled look is hopeful beneath the surprise. Viktor doesn’t have to imagine that it was a hard position to be responsible for the family legacy while yearning for more—he himself was expected to carry on the business his family had established generations ago.
Face flushing, the pink unfortunately deep on his pale cheeks, he gestured vaguely towards his desk on the other side of the room. The library may have been open to any of the family to use, but he was the main inhabitant any time he was home, and already an organized chaos of books and notes covered the desk’s surface. ] I’m sure you’ve heard the other staff gossiping about you. It isn’t every day that a handsome young man comes to work for us.
[ Clearing his throat, he continued. ] I asked my father and he mentioned a bit about your past. I’m more interested in your current designs.
[ handsome? no, he's a wreck. a shaggy dog. confusion squints his eyes and pulls at his lip. the only thing staff has done is call him uncouth to his face. but did this viktor get a little darker there? if it did or not, jayce doesn't pay it much scrutiny, not when, as he continues to speak, it's something fabricated from the ends of his dreams that seemed to be weaving into reality.
someone is interested in his work. someone, to his longing, is interested in his ideas, his prototypes. jayce's heart skips with a youthful excitement that has long been beaten out of him. eager to go along, there is one thing that stops him, and pins his eyes on viktor's to probe for truth. he must've heard more about his work than simple gossip if he's asking for it. ]
Why? [ he tests him. there are wolves out there dressed as sheep. people who would rather dig your downfall than see you rise, or worse— take credit. it's one of the reasons he had taken such an awful pause in his work altogether, following the accident that nearly cost the family their integrity. ] Why would you be interested in something with no proof?
[ yet. no proof yet. but he wants to know what the man thinks. ]
Proof? [ Viktor chuckles despite himself and then holds up a hand in good faith, eager to not upset this seemingly skittish bulk of man. Though he knows the basic outline of the Talis history, he knows nothing about the personal struggles of their only son and heir. ] Science is about doing something in search of the proof.
Technology should benefit people who can’t afford pure-bred, prize-winning horses. [ Drumming his fingers against his knee, he cocks his head to one side while continuing to look up at the other. ] But it’s the responsibility of those with said horses to fund such technology.
[ is he implying . . . what he thinks he's implying? jayce needs a moment. he's a little dumbstruck and wasn't expecting that. better yet, he hasn't been expecting any of this since stepping into the library.
he's never met anyone who thinks like he does. it's the second time in these few minutes, that his heart leaps with joy that's long been muted. he doesn't show it too easily, but his lips— they part in a small smile. ]
—Later today, [ he shouldn't be bold and say he'll return to the house; it isn't his place to be, but damn it does he consider it and swing his weight. ] I can show you. My notes, my work—
[ and a pause; he considers this gravely. if he's wrong it's going to cost him everything, but he knows he's not. he's definitely not. it works, he's certain of it. if he gets it on them, no one will notice until it starts giving results.
and if viktor actually believes in it, then it's worth telling him. ]
[ The spark he sees in shining grey eyes shows him all he needs to know—there is passion in this man, a kind that isn’t about money nor fame but simply the pursuit of knowledge itself. A man of progress, and one that Viktor thinks he can trust with their horses.
Smiling, he claps his hands on both thighs and pushes himself up from the armchair. ] Excellent. Would you mind me visiting your workshop?
[ The name surprises him, and he wavers a moment before catching his weight on the back of the armchair. ] Did— I’ve been away for several years and haven’t been out to see the horses. Is she alright?
[ yes, yes— of course. it is a murmur that feels . . . rekindled, a bit disbelieving but only because this was more of a pleasant surprise than the worst he'd expected. maybe he could start anew. maybe like-minded perspective and fresh new eyes was what he needed.
maybe a friend was what he needed. ]
She's in good health. [ if that would quell any worry; jayce continues with a quick runthrough of his project with her, briefly flicking a glance to the door and lowering his voice into a bare whisper. he'll take a few steps closer if it meant he'd be heard. ] Her trim is too short, it compromised her posture and I can't rasp a thing without hurting her— I'm making new shoes, just for her— corrective ones.
[ in their day and age? there's no such thing as a therapeutic shoe approach. if she got any lamer with no improvements by the next competition prep (a little less than a few weeks on the horizon), they'd likely consider putting her down, unfit for sport and losing value. ]
I could show you, now if you want— I even did the math, it should work.
[ you have to believe me his colorless gaze pleas. ]
[ Clucking this tongue, Viktor shakes his head. Their family has had some bad luck with past farriers, people who advertise themselves as experts when they have no idea how to work on such specialized horses. They all need shoes, yes, but not the same shoes, nor the same amount of trim.
Viktor’s eyes widen, smile quirking up the corner of his lips. ] Corrective ones? How promising!
I thought you were in the middle of something, Mr. Talis. [ His smile widens further, teeth glinting with mirth. ] You can go ahead and prepare, I’ll be a while reaching the stables.
[ well, that's— yeah. suddenly, jayce seems a touch sheepish, his eyes diverting and what's visible of his cheeks through the smears of grease are darker— it wasn't as if he'd been lying earlier. he was in the middle of something. this something, specifically. but he's a little too excited, isn't he?
jayce flattens his lips, voiceless, folds his hands behind his back and ducks his head. ]
—Thank you.
[ it's all he manages before turning his good heel to go through the library doors and back to where he belongs. one of the staff calls out for him, telling him that he should wait for her, but he says clearly: I know my way out.
it's the forge again. hot brimstone, fire, iron and hammering all the way until nightfall, pauses to fufill his duties included. ]
Don’t thank me yet, I’ll be putting you to the test.
[ He can’t help but smile as he watches the broad back disappear back through the library doors; he hadn’t expected anything at home to be so promising as a distraction from… well, everything else that came with being home. He loved spending time in the stabled, but there was only so much he could do with the horses, both due to physical abilities and restrictions.
If he had been honest with Jayce, he would have mentioned an interest in his leg brace as well as potential innovation in riding technology for someone with limited use of one of his legs. It’s the reason he’ll need time to reach the stables—he hadn’t been hedging, nor implying anything in terms of Talis’ responsibilities.
Cane in hand, taking his time, he makes his way to the workshop and finally reaches the doors around sunset. ]
[ jayce gives no reason to doubt his responsibility when he manages to do everything on time. it's hard to really imagine it's only been a few days— he's made the place his home, with his personal touch, despite none of it being his. frequent places to sit in the form of logs, old hay bales or chairs are scattered at nearly every corner. around the stables, there's always somewhere to sit, to viktor's luck. even when jayce works the horse's feet, there's a support that holds the leg for him— he despises that thing, any uncooperative beasts wouldn't take kindly to it. he'd always use his legs, but that's not as easily possible nowadays. he's begrudgingly carries it about.
most of the stables are getting dark at this point of the day, with all horses tucked in and feeding on supper. the sweltering forge is just behind the barn, where the clanking of metals and burning white embers make their own dancing sunset. applying the finishing touches on one last shoe, jayce hammers iridescent iron between tongs before placing them in water to sizzle and cool. that should do it. with his shirt off in this terrible heat, he pulls his handiwork out of the pool and scrutinizes it. when it's finally approved, he takes a deep, preparatory breath in— collects all four and moves his tool box, along with a tattered towel over his shoulders right outside. it's where he runs into viktor, dropping the clench in his teeth from his complaining leg.
he manages to look even dirtier, somehow. ]
Oh— [ an incline, a brief look up and down— he catches sight of the cane and wonders: that's all the support he has? jayce must be careful. he'll get ideas on top of ideas and that's never good for his actual progress. he shakes his head, only to himself. ] You made it.
[ he decides that's the better greeting, in an attempt to quell his anxious vibrating within. ] This way.
[ he's not about to walk ahead of him; his legs are a bit too fatigued for that, his limp a touch more prominent. if anything, he'll walk with viktor. a short walk, thankfully. the hay bales await like a soft bed in the night. ]
[ Viktor pulls up short when they nearly collide, wincing as his balance slides off-centered and he has to put a hand out to catch himself. He can tell that Talis is looking at him with some kind of thoughts in his head, and he can only hope that it’s nothing that will cause him to start coddling Viktor. ] Of course. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.
[ Nodding and following the farrier’s lead, he’s surprised when he instead falls in step next to him. They’re going at about the same speed, and it’s only because Talis is limping more obviously that Viktor doesn’t take it as going easy on him. He doesn't try to speed up like he normally would around others, pleased that he doesn't feel the need to prove that he's capable.
Walking side-by-side also makes it easier not to focus too much on the fact that Talis is shirtless, muscles glistening where they aren’t dusted with soot. ]
You look like you’ve been productive. Where should we start?
By sitting, [ jayce retorts, a bit of jesting tone to truth he means; he really needs to sit before his knee pops from the pressure. he may have overdone it today, but— he was excited. he had to work overtime on his own watch if it meant finishing today and beginning this few week long experiment. then he could make some adjustments to his brace and . . .
he's felt so uplifted, in good spirits and eager energy that the way he swings his stiff, braced leg feels like a small price to pay tonight. he tells the cosmos, and himself, that he'll take more care of it from now on. sit more, use his aids. he wouldn't want to be rendered completely useless in the barn— he's not. and he still has so much to do.
before getting started, jayce slips into the open tack room for his shirt, rio's head halter and his notebook. he leaves their lamp as well as his clinking tools at the base of the first bench they come across, just outside the room to encourage sitting there. curious nickers resound at the movement and the clicking of belts and buckles— they know someone is going to get a little evening stroll, and it brings a quiet simper to jayce's lips. the horses were really endearing.
he tries to straighten his face when he circles back to viktor yielding unsatisfactory results, because now— he's going to be within his element, and he's quite enthusiastic when it comes to explaining his own thoughts. sitting beside viktor, he stretches his leg out and shuffles his box for four of the shoes he'd been molding all afternoon. individually, they're all very, very different from each other. some of higher grooves than others, slanted or angled oddly when it came to width and girth where metal should disconnect into a U-shape. it doesn't, creating a smooth heart-shaped finish. too thick here, too thin there. no wonder people would doubt its efficiency. it looks close to a disaster that didn't exactly seem comfortable, and no one would want this on their horse.
but no one was a horse to prove him otherwise. ]
Listen— I know how it looks. But I could explain, with, with biomechanics—
[ and there comes the giddiness he hasn't felt in ages, an addicting rise in his purpose. jayce flips through the pages of his notebook while viktor can inspect his metalwork, filled with scribbles and sketches of not only his ideas, but of horses themselves. he always draws a bit during downtime. but, the point of the matter is this page, signed and stamped. the design of his work, measurements used with formulas and intricate statistics. evidence. math!
he's actually rather bright. ]
I think these will save her. [ in fact .... ] They'll save a lot of them. And that's only the beginning.
[ but lets not count the chicks before they hatch. ]
[ The smell of the stables, off-putting to many, is home to Viktor. He slows a little as he passes the first stale, walking up to the door slowly but confidently. He's a stranger to many of these horses, but not to their nature—he knows better than to rush up to a huge animal and stick his fingers where they could get bitten. For now, he merely admires the horse that approaches him with cautious curiosity, and he wishes he'd brought something for her.
Hearing Talis move around brings Viktor back to the task of sitting, and he's just settling down on a hay bale when he's rejoined by the farrier. It's the most impromptu presentation Viktor has ever prepared himself for, but maybe that's what fills him with anticipation—he's going to see something new, first-hand, right where it was made. That gives an air of expertise far stronger than any academic hall could hope for. ]
They look like they've been tailored to each foot. [ He reaches out and takes one of the horseshoes, heavy in his hand but obviously well-constructed. Viktor has always been more of a theorist than a maker, but he can recognize good quality when he's running his fingers across it.
His eyes are drawn to the flipping pages, catching glimpses of both metal and beast and math. The last one is the most abstract and yet, to someone fluent in mathematics like Viktor, it's almost more concrete than the items in his hands. ]
May I? [ He trades the horseshoe for the notebook before getting a verbal response, tilting his hand so the page catches more light. ] You sign your own notes? Bit egotistical, don't you think?
[ He means for it to sound teasing, but his mind is racing through the calculations. It's so simple, so obvious, and yet no one has gotten this far before if they had even dared to start. It seems like Jayce Talis was uniquely equipped with the vision, drive, and talent to make all of this a reality—now he just needed someone with a horse that trusted a voyage into uncharted waters. ]
[ jayce falters for only a second but can't seem to say "no". it's his personal book, a few journal entries of his feelings are scribbled on tops of some pages, which briefly makes jayce's chest sink. some of it was personal and a bit dark, but— that can easily be overlooked by charming sketches and crude blueprints, right? he relaxes his shoulders when he realizes viktor's interest: formulas. the biomechanical, scientific part of his work, that's quite separated from his emotional ponderings.
he exhales a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and bends to pick up the lamp on the floor to shine more light between them. viktor gets it. he's following. he feels a little fidgety all of a sudden, and then—
something pangs his deepest thoughts and unceremoniously rocks his core. something so simple and silly, that he could either take offense to, find annoying or explain, and yet. he's searching his mind now that it's been touched. his brows crease and he blinks as if he were flinching, because . . . where has he heard those words before?
he tries hard, but he cannot seem to find it. he's also been staring for too long without saying a single word, enough to make even jayce feel mildly embarrassed. ]
—Uh, [ he starts, diverts his gaze to the shoes hanging from his fingers now, ] It's— It's for ownership. [ that's it. [ I believe in the idea.
[ Next to him, Jayce gives the tiniest of starts, drawing Viktor's attention. He expects something, a defense or retaliation, and he parts his lips to counter—but nothing. There's a haunted sort of look around Talis' eyes, like he's focused on something distant and painful. Viktor's heart skips a beat at the thought that he might have truly insulted him, but then Jayce is back to the present, though he swims to the surface a bit slowly.
Viktor should say something, but he doesn't know what it would be in his place to say. He introduced himself to a stranger this morning, and just because they share a passion for invention doesn't mean that he's gotten any closer to Jayce in the hours since then. ]
Good. That makes two of us.
[ Handing the journal back, Viktor stretches his legs out in front of him and absentmindedly kneads at the side of both thighs. ] I see you've already finished the shoes, but is there anything else you need in order to get started?
—O-oh, [ right. that made him look kind of stupid. jayce shakes his head and prepares to swing his weight up to stand, heavy hands on both sides of the bench and forcing him up, halter over his shoulders and shoes in his tool box. ] no, I'll shoe her.
[ he pauses mid step, and remembers: ]
She's going to need a rider [ he falters here; he had one word in mind, then quickly changes it, ] tomorrow. To test her gait— nothing extreme.
[ he, personally, would like to see the result of it now, but knows that it might be asking for too much. it's just some walking back and forth. viktor could do that, or, someone else could. it just needed to be done and jayce has never gotten over the fear of swinging onto horseback again. he feels like he's a little too brute for these steeds, anyway. his mounting style consists of something more relaxed and western, plus . . .
he probably couldn't be caught dead riding the family horse anyway, even if he entertained the idea for a split second. jayce disappears into the darker halls of the stable to retrieve rio, who should be sleeping— but if the secret is safe with viktor, then this is all okay. he brings her back to where viktor sits, and prepares the ropes and halter right then and there, for him to participate. even if it's just to watch, for now.
he has to work quickly, but not sloppily. jayce hammers the nails in after plenty of eye-to-hand estimations, lifting, using hoof rests to assist the ache in his leg, and so on. it's a lot of physical work, but jayce works so swiftly, so cleanly— he makes it look absolutely easy. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
☆AR_CANE
no subject
What had once been a refuge from a provincial life of dinner parties and horse races was now a cramped and noisy bore. He looked back on his younger self, when he’d arrived with wide eyes and wider dreams, as childish—in the several years since, he’d not found a single soul that could satisfy his hunger. While other men (and some women) of his age and stature were seeking company in brothels and bars, Viktor had toured colleges and laboratories in search of mental stimulation. His peers—if they could be considered as such—gorged themselves on gossip while Viktor built towers of scientific articles in foreign languages he learned but would never get the chance to speak.
His own accent wavered the longer he stayed wrapped in the international, eclectic waters of the port city, stayed away from his parents’ lectures at him to stop dreaming and start acting. He knew why they did it, but really came to understand it with a few more years under his belt; they wanted him to continue their legacy rather than create one of his own. Perhaps they were right, too, for no matter how long Viktor lived in the city, he never once found the intellectual partner he yearned for.
It didn’t help that, year after year, the world around him remained grey and colorless in such stark contrast to his technicolored dreams.
So Viktor returned home, riding up the main drive of his family’s estate on a horse worth more than the average man’s yearly salary. He would send for his effects later—his restless nature meant that, once he’d made his mind up, he could not sit still a moment longer in his well-furnished and yet empty-feeling apartment.
Time stood still out here in the countryside. Trees grew taller and their leaves changed color—so he was told, as he could only distinguish the changes in tone—yet the world always looked the same as when he was a little boy. The wildflowers filled the air with the same sweet perfumes, the birds sang their songs until the cry of a fox silenced them, and the humidity clung to his skin beneath the riding suit that hugged his body in well-tailored fashion. Life had always been this, so vivid in all senses other than what he could see with open eyes.
It was a surprise to the staff when he walked in through the main doors, even more-so when he announced his intention to stay. They hurried into action freshening up his room as he went straight to his father’s study, greeting him and then asking after his mother to do the same. It didn’t take more than a day to hear of the new stable hand, one that his father saw promise in despite all of his employees whispering the opposite. ]
Talis. [ He tastes the name’s flavor, letting it sit on his tongue that was already falling back into old, accented habits. It rang a small bell in his mind, perhaps from reading it somewhere. ] I think it’s time to meet this new stable boy. Bring him to the library.
no subject
no wonder it was reported as stubborn, lately— the fit was uncomfortable. detrimental, if it was worn for too long. jayce spends all afternoon taking notes on a single chestnut coated mare's gate by the name of Riosilitta. well, whatever "chestnut" is. all he sees is grey.
removing her fit already eases her posture, but doesn't fix the uneven slant in her hooves. she'll need custom shoes for that, each one different than the last to accommodate a specific leg. and it's there that jayce begins to shape them. the forge is hot and the clanking of molten metal is relentless. when a staff member visits to escort jayce to the young master, she calls him uncouth for working without a shirt on. the audacity!
he has his obvious reasons, but that goes more or less ignored. i'm busy, he'll grunt, and continue on with his work. he's not about to give what he thinks is a snobby child his undivided attention for play time when he's busy. if the boss didn't order it, too bad.
but she insists, annoyingly so, says something or other about it being of poor taste, especially if it fell to the ears of the mother and father. the young master was just as important around these parts.
reluctantly and pissed to be interrupted, jayce wipes the sweat and excess soot off of him, fits his uniform top which . . . is already dirty and reeks of horse and ash, before he limps along with his escort. he looks nowhere appropriate to enter the manor— his bangs stick to his temples and there are smudges of grit on his nose and cheek. his permanent brace clicks along with his step, which makes him heard like a bull wearing a cowbell.
in front of the library. augh, he's so annoyed. what does he want, to be read to? aren't there people for that? why me? jayce would have to settle with he asked for you, specifically. following a knock, the woman opens the grand, tall doors into the atheneum and announces their arrival.
jayce steps in only when told, not sure what to expect, and not exactly the friendliest of faces. he's searching for . . . a bratty kid, and does not find one. ]
no subject
Thank you for making time to meet me, Mr. Talis. I’ll be with you in a moment. [ Scribbling down a few words, and then circling a promising schematic of gears, Viktor sets down both papers and pencil to push back his chair. His leg twinges as he stands, still stiff from the ride home a few days prior, and he leans a hand against the solid wood surface of the desk to help negotiate his weight around its corner. ]
Forgive me for the late introduction. [ He finally lifts his gaze, and though he hadn’t had any preconceived notions about what the new farrier might look like, he’s surprised nonetheless. The fact that this man is naturally scruffy, the soot of a forge still clinging to his clothes, might have displeased Viktor’s parents while having the opposite effect on their son; impressing his employers with pomp and circumstance doesn’t seem to be a priority for this young Mr. Talis.
Stepping closer, limp more prominent than he would have liked it to be while giving a first impression, he offers a hand in greeting. ] I’m Viktor.
no subject
hesitant, jayce extends his own slowly, gives a bit of a gesture as if to say, "it's dirty", and leaves actually taking the shake to viktor if he chooses. he's about ready to give up, seeming a touch abashed. which is strange, he doesn’t really care about that. now? he's suddenly hyper aware he smells (and looks) like smoke and horse shit in a room that wafed lilac and lemon shavings. ]
I was, uh— in the middle of something.
[ an unspoken "sorry", if viktor's hand is now printed with the shadow of hard work, fire and dusty iron. so absolutely rough, in contrast. ]
no subject
Looking down at the hand hesitating to take his own, Viktor bridges the gap and clasps it firmly. ] My apologies, Mr. Talis. I won’t take much of your time, but I hope you don’t mind me sitting. [ He pats his leg before sinking into a nearby armchair.
It’s then that he notices the glint of metal wrapped around one of the farrier’s legs. His gaze lingers before lifting back to the beared face hiding kind eyes. ] You’re welcome to sit, unless you need to get back to your middle of something immediately.
no subject
jayce's gaze finds the pristine, empty armchair, and he certainly falters, adjusting his stance and throwing his weight from one sole back to his stronger one. it's tempting, he'd like to, but . . .
that'd be one more thing he'd leave dirty, here. he quietly shakes his head and continues on his feet, preserving his left side. ]
It's alright.
[ his eyes, of brighter values, certainly were more tender than his appearance. viktor's, as he stares, has something sharp and witty about him. intelligent. sympathetic, if he's not wrong on his current reading. it's the only thing that keeps him from leaving immediately. jayce had grown a little distrusting over the years, but that didn't mean he wouldn't give chances to those he thought deserved it.
this was one of them. ]
Did you need me for something?
no subject
Ah, you’ve seen straight through me. [ Viktor’s lips quirk up in a guilty little smile. ] Aside from the pleasantries of introducing myself, I wished to satisfy some curiosity. My father told me your family name, and it rang a bell. [ At least enough to have Viktor looking into why it could be that he found it familiar and instead found several news articles. ] You’re something of an innovator, Mr. Talis.
no subject
Where did you see that?
[ from a bit displaced and uncertain, now, jayce has given all of his utmost attention to viktor. he's— interested. stimulated. one may even say hopeful, with how his light grey eyes shimmer. ]
no subject
Face flushing, the pink unfortunately deep on his pale cheeks, he gestured vaguely towards his desk on the other side of the room. The library may have been open to any of the family to use, but he was the main inhabitant any time he was home, and already an organized chaos of books and notes covered the desk’s surface. ] I’m sure you’ve heard the other staff gossiping about you. It isn’t every day that a handsome young man comes to work for us.
[ Clearing his throat, he continued. ] I asked my father and he mentioned a bit about your past. I’m more interested in your current designs.
no subject
someone is interested in his work. someone, to his longing, is interested in his ideas, his prototypes. jayce's heart skips with a youthful excitement that has long been beaten out of him. eager to go along, there is one thing that stops him, and pins his eyes on viktor's to probe for truth. he must've heard more about his work than simple gossip if he's asking for it. ]
Why? [ he tests him. there are wolves out there dressed as sheep. people who would rather dig your downfall than see you rise, or worse— take credit. it's one of the reasons he had taken such an awful pause in his work altogether, following the accident that nearly cost the family their integrity. ] Why would you be interested in something with no proof?
[ yet. no proof yet. but he wants to know what the man thinks. ]
no subject
Technology should benefit people who can’t afford pure-bred, prize-winning horses. [ Drumming his fingers against his knee, he cocks his head to one side while continuing to look up at the other. ] But it’s the responsibility of those with said horses to fund such technology.
no subject
he's never met anyone who thinks like he does. it's the second time in these few minutes, that his heart leaps with joy that's long been muted. he doesn't show it too easily, but his lips— they part in a small smile. ]
—Later today, [ he shouldn't be bold and say he'll return to the house; it isn't his place to be, but damn it does he consider it and swing his weight. ] I can show you. My notes, my work—
[ and a pause; he considers this gravely. if he's wrong it's going to cost him everything, but he knows he's not. he's definitely not. it works, he's certain of it. if he gets it on them, no one will notice until it starts giving results.
and if viktor actually believes in it, then it's worth telling him. ]
Riosilitta.
no subject
Smiling, he claps his hands on both thighs and pushes himself up from the armchair. ] Excellent. Would you mind me visiting your workshop?
[ The name surprises him, and he wavers a moment before catching his weight on the back of the armchair. ] Did— I’ve been away for several years and haven’t been out to see the horses. Is she alright?
no subject
maybe a friend was what he needed. ]
She's in good health. [ if that would quell any worry; jayce continues with a quick runthrough of his project with her, briefly flicking a glance to the door and lowering his voice into a bare whisper. he'll take a few steps closer if it meant he'd be heard. ] Her trim is too short, it compromised her posture and I can't rasp a thing without hurting her— I'm making new shoes, just for her— corrective ones.
[ in their day and age? there's no such thing as a therapeutic shoe approach. if she got any lamer with no improvements by the next competition prep (a little less than a few weeks on the horizon), they'd likely consider putting her down, unfit for sport and losing value. ]
I could show you, now if you want— I even did the math, it should work.
[ you have to believe me his colorless gaze pleas. ]
no subject
Viktor’s eyes widen, smile quirking up the corner of his lips. ] Corrective ones? How promising!
I thought you were in the middle of something, Mr. Talis. [ His smile widens further, teeth glinting with mirth. ] You can go ahead and prepare, I’ll be a while reaching the stables.
no subject
jayce flattens his lips, voiceless, folds his hands behind his back and ducks his head. ]
—Thank you.
[ it's all he manages before turning his good heel to go through the library doors and back to where he belongs. one of the staff calls out for him, telling him that he should wait for her, but he says clearly: I know my way out.
it's the forge again. hot brimstone, fire, iron and hammering all the way until nightfall, pauses to fufill his duties included. ]
no subject
[ He can’t help but smile as he watches the broad back disappear back through the library doors; he hadn’t expected anything at home to be so promising as a distraction from… well, everything else that came with being home. He loved spending time in the stabled, but there was only so much he could do with the horses, both due to physical abilities and restrictions.
If he had been honest with Jayce, he would have mentioned an interest in his leg brace as well as potential innovation in riding technology for someone with limited use of one of his legs. It’s the reason he’ll need time to reach the stables—he hadn’t been hedging, nor implying anything in terms of Talis’ responsibilities.
Cane in hand, taking his time, he makes his way to the workshop and finally reaches the doors around sunset. ]
no subject
most of the stables are getting dark at this point of the day, with all horses tucked in and feeding on supper. the sweltering forge is just behind the barn, where the clanking of metals and burning white embers
make their own dancing sunset. applying the finishing touches on one last shoe, jayce hammers iridescent iron between tongs before placing them in water to sizzle and cool. that should do it. with his shirt off in this terrible heat, he pulls his handiwork out of the pool and scrutinizes it. when it's finally approved, he takes a deep, preparatory breath in— collects all four and moves his tool box, along with a tattered towel over his shoulders right outside. it's where he runs into viktor, dropping the clench in his teeth from his complaining leg.
he manages to look even dirtier, somehow. ]
Oh— [ an incline, a brief look up and down— he catches sight of the cane and wonders: that's all the support he has? jayce must be careful. he'll get ideas on top of ideas and that's never good for his actual progress. he shakes his head, only to himself. ] You made it.
[ he decides that's the better greeting, in an attempt to quell his anxious vibrating within. ] This way.
[ he's not about to walk ahead of him; his legs are a bit too fatigued for that, his limp a touch more prominent. if anything, he'll walk with viktor. a short walk, thankfully. the hay bales await like a soft bed in the night. ]
no subject
[ Nodding and following the farrier’s lead, he’s surprised when he instead falls in step next to him. They’re going at about the same speed, and it’s only because Talis is limping more obviously that Viktor doesn’t take it as going easy on him. He doesn't try to speed up like he normally would around others, pleased that he doesn't feel the need to prove that he's capable.
Walking side-by-side also makes it easier not to focus too much on the fact that Talis is shirtless, muscles glistening where they aren’t dusted with soot. ]
You look like you’ve been productive. Where should we start?
no subject
he's felt so uplifted, in good spirits and eager energy that the way he swings his stiff, braced leg feels like a small price to pay tonight. he tells the cosmos, and himself, that he'll take more care of it from now on. sit more, use his aids. he wouldn't want to be rendered completely useless in the barn— he's not. and he still has so much to do.
before getting started, jayce slips into the open tack room for his shirt, rio's head halter and his notebook. he leaves their lamp as well as his clinking tools at the base of the first bench they come across, just outside the room to encourage sitting there. curious nickers resound at the movement and the clicking of belts and buckles— they know someone is going to get a little evening stroll, and it brings a quiet simper to jayce's lips. the horses were really endearing.
he tries to straighten his face when he circles back to viktor yielding unsatisfactory results, because now— he's going to be within his element, and he's quite enthusiastic when it comes to explaining his own thoughts. sitting beside viktor, he stretches his leg out and shuffles his box for four of the shoes he'd been molding all afternoon. individually, they're all very, very different from each other. some of higher grooves than others, slanted or angled oddly when it came to width and girth where metal should disconnect into a U-shape. it doesn't, creating a smooth heart-shaped finish. too thick here, too thin there. no wonder people would doubt its efficiency. it looks close to a disaster that didn't exactly seem comfortable, and no one would want this on their horse.
but no one was a horse to prove him otherwise. ]
Listen— I know how it looks. But I could explain, with, with biomechanics—
[ and there comes the giddiness he hasn't felt in ages, an addicting rise in his purpose. jayce flips through the pages of his notebook while viktor can inspect his metalwork, filled with scribbles and sketches of not only his ideas, but of horses themselves. he always draws a bit during downtime. but, the point of the matter is this page, signed and stamped. the design of his work, measurements used with formulas and intricate statistics. evidence. math!
he's actually rather bright. ]
I think these will save her. [ in fact .... ] They'll save a lot of them. And that's only the beginning.
[ but lets not count the chicks before they hatch. ]
no subject
[ The smell of the stables, off-putting to many, is home to Viktor. He slows a little as he passes the first stale, walking up to the door slowly but confidently. He's a stranger to many of these horses, but not to their nature—he knows better than to rush up to a huge animal and stick his fingers where they could get bitten. For now, he merely admires the horse that approaches him with cautious curiosity, and he wishes he'd brought something for her.
Hearing Talis move around brings Viktor back to the task of sitting, and he's just settling down on a hay bale when he's rejoined by the farrier. It's the most impromptu presentation Viktor has ever prepared himself for, but maybe that's what fills him with anticipation—he's going to see something new, first-hand, right where it was made. That gives an air of expertise far stronger than any academic hall could hope for. ]
They look like they've been tailored to each foot. [ He reaches out and takes one of the horseshoes, heavy in his hand but obviously well-constructed. Viktor has always been more of a theorist than a maker, but he can recognize good quality when he's running his fingers across it.
His eyes are drawn to the flipping pages, catching glimpses of both metal and beast and math. The last one is the most abstract and yet, to someone fluent in mathematics like Viktor, it's almost more concrete than the items in his hands. ]
May I? [ He trades the horseshoe for the notebook before getting a verbal response, tilting his hand so the page catches more light. ] You sign your own notes? Bit egotistical, don't you think?
[ He means for it to sound teasing, but his mind is racing through the calculations. It's so simple, so obvious, and yet no one has gotten this far before if they had even dared to start. It seems like Jayce Talis was uniquely equipped with the vision, drive, and talent to make all of this a reality—now he just needed someone with a horse that trusted a voyage into uncharted waters. ]
no subject
he exhales a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and bends to pick up the lamp on the floor to shine more light between them. viktor gets it. he's following. he feels a little fidgety all of a sudden, and then—
something pangs his deepest thoughts and unceremoniously rocks his core. something so simple and silly, that he could either take offense to, find annoying or explain, and yet. he's searching his mind now that it's been touched. his brows crease and he blinks as if he were flinching, because . . . where has he heard those words before?
he tries hard, but he cannot seem to find it. he's also been staring for too long without saying a single word, enough to make even jayce feel mildly embarrassed. ]
—Uh, [ he starts, diverts his gaze to the shoes hanging from his fingers now, ] It's— It's for ownership. [ that's it. [ I believe in the idea.
no subject
Viktor should say something, but he doesn't know what it would be in his place to say. He introduced himself to a stranger this morning, and just because they share a passion for invention doesn't mean that he's gotten any closer to Jayce in the hours since then. ]
Good. That makes two of us.
[ Handing the journal back, Viktor stretches his legs out in front of him and absentmindedly kneads at the side of both thighs. ] I see you've already finished the shoes, but is there anything else you need in order to get started?
no subject
[ he pauses mid step, and remembers: ]
She's going to need a rider [ he falters here; he had one word in mind, then quickly changes it, ] tomorrow. To test her gait— nothing extreme.
[ he, personally, would like to see the result of it now, but knows that it might be asking for too much. it's just some walking back and forth. viktor could do that, or, someone else could. it just needed to be done and jayce has never gotten over the fear of swinging onto horseback again. he feels like he's a little too brute for these steeds, anyway. his mounting style consists of something more relaxed and western, plus . . .
he probably couldn't be caught dead riding the family horse anyway, even if he entertained the idea for a split second. jayce disappears into the darker halls of the stable to retrieve rio, who should be sleeping— but if the secret is safe with viktor, then this is all okay. he brings her back to where viktor sits, and prepares the ropes and halter right then and there, for him to participate. even if it's just to watch, for now.
he has to work quickly, but not sloppily. jayce hammers the nails in after plenty of eye-to-hand estimations, lifting, using hoof rests to assist the ache in his leg, and so on. it's a lot of physical work, but jayce works so swiftly, so cleanly— he makes it look absolutely easy. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)