[Seeing Jayce look so besotted while also spilling over with tears is oddly comforting. That's him. That's the Jayce Talis that Viktor's known so long. That he loves, in every way. Just fails to voice in any kind of a normal way. Viktor will literally rip his own heart out to give it to the man before he'll utter those frank words. Ridiculous of him.
Viktor gives the most passive shrug to the question. Downright blaze of him, like it's the easiest answer he has to offer in all this.]
Of course I did.
[his body is a biomechanical nightmare, but that doesn't feel far from what Viktor already understood of himself. He had been falling apart so long in his natural form that enhancements had been required to keep him going long before now. His leg and chest brace, the anchors in his back... he had experience in modifying himself. This was just another feat of engineering to undergo.]
It isn't very impressive. A pump with some batteries. You'll probably scold me for how shambles it is, but it functions. That is all that matters. [Viktor can spare elegance for practicality and that's what he's mechanical heart is. Scrap and wit. It suits Viktor, he thinks.]
[ if any of that wasn't a confession, jayce wasn't talis. he keeps quavering his head slowly, back and forth, his red-stained teeth making a small flash before jayce has to suck in his lower lip, because— his expression is contorting and his tears make new, wet trails over the dirt on his face as they fall. it's funny, how viktor's own heart finally swells for himself. with a little help from jayce. hands return to the arms around him and squeeze, try to pull him in for something tight and remnant of a hug from behind, the best he could give this way, sideways.
his palm finds the other's nape, the inorganic braids of shimmer-fused metal and nestles fis forehead back to him. jayce lets out an objecting click of his tongue, ]
I'll cut you some slack, this time. [ one that follows a snort— a bit of a sob, a bit of a laugh, and his voice an exhausted drawl that has found a starting point in getting through this. it's always been right in front of him. he thought he lost viktor. he nearly gave up. he's so glad he didn't— he's glad viktor didn't either, even if the price they had to pay was . . . big. jayce would pay anything due.
it feels just a bit more possible to accept that he's . . . not right. it would never be easy— jayce feels like the second he finds himself alone he would spiral. but, not right now. he doesn't have to worry about that now. ]
[Viktor cannot help a smile at Jayce's commentary. He's getting more lucid without it being full blown panic. It's so devastatingly hopeful. Something they have in such, such short supply here. Viktor wants to believe the man will be able to live. There's no letting him go, the cost far too sunk.
He tries to hug Jayce however is possible, his tall and thin form pretty good for it, though he's still cluttered with valves and tubes connecting them. No kinking those, that would be uncomfortable...]
But you never let that scare you off. You always find a way to... persist.
[ he's crazy and he loves that about him. he's crazy enough to match jayce's freak, and jayce matches his. so much, that— jayce now tries desperately not to let his eyes wander lower down viktor's face when he smiles at him from profile. the mole just above his lip is right where he catches himself, redirecting his eyes forward and waiting out the time they needed for the procedure to finalize. his first direct confession was ignored. his first attempt at a kiss was a traumatic disaster.
as much as he yearned to feel it, now was not a good time, he's got a damn hole in his chest and they're both connected to each other through tubes on top of organs. if he's smart, he probably shouldn't try again at all. this . . . is more than he thought he'd get. more time. another chance, and a drastic spectacle of viktor's feelings. he loves him and that's that. he has his heart, now. he doesn't need more than this. ]
I told you, [ jayce pats the top of viktor's slender hands, then rubs at each bump of his golden-clad knuckles. ] I promised you.
[ i told you i loved you, too. ]
. . . Viktor, [ something is stirring in him, a feeling. a feeling that . . . he doesn't need to hide anymore. he has viktor where he's always wanted him. aware and understanding of everything. he can be transparent. he could finally spill the truth that he was angry at jayce for hiding. that viktor wasn't ready. ] This isn't the first time you've given me a part of you.
[There's romance and then there is whatever the fuck these two have going on.
They're already cuddled up in the rotting decay and blood pool. It's unsavory, but not enough to spoil the moment of accomplishment and elation of Jayce returning to him.]
I have? Ah, in your future-? What of me?
[Viktor asks this quietly, curiosity bleeding out of him so obviously. Jayce being from further along is of simultaneous great interest and causes him such anxiety. He dies. Jayce brings him back using the Hexcore. Jayce falls down a fucking ravine... and crawls himself up out of it.
He realizes he's in love with Viktor. Had been. For who knows how long.
Viktor wants to know what more happened. It was too much to process before, but if he waits to have processing power, he'll be waiting forever. Everything is too much and so nothing is.]
[ jayce pauses in his continuation. he thinks twice about now, then comes to a swift conclusion that there was no bettsr time. ]
In my future, [ settling his hand on top of viktor's he pulls at two fingers, guiding them past the webs of rough patches and colored pink-purple webbing . . . to right over the rune in his wrist, tracing over it and its symbol. the source of his obsession. the comfort during his stress. safety in a blizzard. awe and wonder in a world sometimes so bleak. ] and in my past.
[ he should take small steps, starting with the steady implication that was bound to distract them a little more from the nest of gore they've made. night makes it look like dark water. ]
[Logically, no, but with arcane fuckery and enough grief, all things are possible. Viktor's paradox is unknown to him, but he had felt the echoes of it. That desire to rescue Jayce and his mother, something he never voiced before their shower talk. The pull of the acceleration rune in Heimerdinger's lab, leading him to steal away with it and Jayce's research notes to return to him. Against all better judgement, against his gratitude towards the Dean of the Academy.
Viktor was always so willing to cast everything aside... for Jayce. For the slimmest hope of their dream.]
[ no . . . it doesn't. he thought that too, until everything connected. jayce raises his brows and cants his head in a way that passively agrees with him, but. with his wrist upward, the webbing and arcane trails worse than when he was completely human face the night sky, full of strange stars and unknown constellations and that— damned, shattered moon. ]
It was you who gave me this, Viktor. When I was a boy. [ the gem reflects the nighttime lights off of the smoothly cut edges, and it is still a spot he will rub, even now. when he's done that, looking for comfort . . . it was so clear what it was about, now. it's always been him. they've always called to each other somehow. were always there, even when they diverged, and waiting for them to unite when they were prepared to. ] You saved me, and my mother— You were the Mage.
[ jayce parts his lips one more time, but nothing comes out until a few moments after. he lowers his voice to a bare hush, as low as the leaves when they shiver on overhead branches lining the long road ahead of them. a long road, indeed. he doesn't know where to go from here, exactly. but he does know he hast to go forward. if viktor is with him, he would. ]
You were always my dream, and I . . . Realized that too late.
[At any other time, at any other circumstance, Viktor wouldn't believe it. Jayce really held that for the correct moment. There's no resistance to the idea, no energy to mount a guarded and skeptical defense. The explanation simply washes over Viktor uncritically, but not incuriously. He has many questions. He's pretty sure he can save most of them or leave them be.
He just needs affirmation that he's put this together, because it's not logical, it's all feeling. This is what happens to him?]
That's... what the hexcore does to me? It makes me a mage-? [On Runeterra, you have to be born a mage. It is inherent, fated, predestined. To become one... Viktor huffs and smirks. Him-? A brittle, sickly boy from the Undercity? With no family name and no prospects? The only place in the world for him the one that he clawed out and forged with his own wit and will?
Viktor wobbles his head slightly,]
Eeeh, a bit too poetic... don't you think?
[A joke, but there's that profound truth inside it. Him. A mage.
The mage who came to Jayce's rescue.
He likes the sound of it. He doesn't have a heart left to swell, but that same emotion is still there. Warmth, affection, yearning. Loving and being loved.]
[ poetic? if only the paradox stopped there. it would have been beautiful if it stopped there. it's just an ongoing tragedy with them. ]
I wish it could be. [ he is whistful at best. ] The hexcore . . . Changed you, for a long time. Like the Moon Warp did.
[ all this metal was so similar to when jayce had fused him with the hexcore, but . . . more. so much more. ]
You lost everything to become that mage. That's why he found me. [ to show him the importance of his emotions, and banes, and everything he's been through that made him viktor. to show him that the suffering is what made the journey. to tell him that with even those very things he saw as flaws, he was loved because of them. that's what made him viktor and no one else. ] You told me there was no prize to perfection. Only an end to pursuit.
[ that viktor corrected a fault, but only after being the only surviving person on runeterra. only after damning himself and everyone else. ]
[It's Viktor's turn to just... well up with tears and spill over. His eyes are still shimmer shot and so it's all tinged purple, running down his face to take in those words. He shakes his head as if denying it, but affirms with his whole being,]
Yes... Yes, that is what it was like.
[Field of dreamless solitude. A poet, indeed. Viktor supposes the mage had nothing but time to think that one up. He speaks to how it had been as the Herald, just needing to tell someone about it. Have it be heard. He knows it doesn't excuse his actions, his violence and cruelty, but he cannot bare the burden of that experience alone. It is too much to go unspoken,]
Endless, vast numbness. Profound loneliness. So empty even I wasn't there.
[they both died for a moment there, hadn't they? Jayce's body failing him and Viktor's mind giving way. His arms curl protectively around Jayce, wishing to hold him so close they fuse together. He's more gentle than that, knowing it would hurt them both if he was too brutish.
In a more tender display of his desperate affections, he kisses Jayce's temple, his eyelid on the side of his still golden eye, his nose. Peppering him with no real direction. So different from when the Herald pushed his face to Jayce's, driven only by cold logic.
He just loves the man so much, he doesn't know what else to do with himself to show that. Viktor's done everything he could, hasn't he? He mutters, nuzzled to Jayce's cheekbone,]
I only want to exist where you are, Jayce. You've showed me that.
[ if there was any way to go, jayce would want to leave the world with viktor. not at the same time, like they had— that was about the same as losing each other to different paths and succumbing to that horrible loneliness. this had been . . . something of a rebirth, if they could get past gritty, unhealthy haunt they've weaved. maybe there's no cure for unwell they were in the head, but jayce was done worrying about what others thought, and he'd made up his mind about viktor a long time ago. it was together or nothing.
the side of jayce's head pushes into viktor's neck, a dirty hand fastening to the defined slant of his cheeks to soothe his tears. he had callouses, cuts, bruises, the remains of his bodily oil spill under his nails and yet he still manages a gentle, accessible touch. he was there to listen. he's glad to be. it makes this hole in him manageable, or at least jayce would like to think so when emotion blanketed reality.
cupping the man's face from the side finishes in him rubbing the veined corners of his eyes dry, although that might just leave it grimy and smudged. thought that counts— but viktor's display makes him freeze up. the dip of his temple gains warm, earnest lips. his eye is rewarded, his nose— damn it, even his nose is revered. his nostrils were an ugly, splattering stain of crimson-pink all the way past his neck where he had bled out. there are other aimless little places and jayce fights the urge not to look at him, fingers beginning to squeeze his hugging arms, caressing the press to slant following his beard with his profile. it was so very different. it was everything. ]
Then I didn't fail, after all.
[ he can't take it. he pulls his head back to look at him. he doesn't regret it, but he does stare for too long, touching the mole under his eye and following the veiny trails of purple down the curve of his face— jayce shakes his head at himself and huffs what should, or could, be a laugh somewhere. it triggers a few coughs, and a weird, watery gurgle that he curses the shit out of. ]
I'm a mess, Viktor.
[ he's trying to laugh at the expense. maybe that will be enough copium. ]
[A worn bark of a laugh escapes Viktor at the last comment. Yes, they do keep saying that to one another. A mess is them, distilled. A testament to the truth and resilience of their love really ever present. Only love could drive men to this sort of tolerance for disgust and horror.]
I am sorry, for... for the indignity and the hurt. I feel guilty to put you through this, but not... remorseful. [He wouldn't change what he did, after all. Any way he could bring Jayce back to him, Viktor would attempt again and again. Even if it caused him to go utterly mad.
Already feels that way, but at least he's content in his madness. Happy, even.]
Can you move any of your limbs? Feel beyond just pain?
[ yeah . . . that's about what he'd felt, now. it was worse when he was a bit younger— he had no remorse and no guilt for both a lack of consideration for viktor's autonomy and the disregard of a promise kept. jayce hadn't realized the scope of what he'd done, and maybe that's what was the most hurtful to viktor.
jayce feels slight relief when he manages to steer his gaze away, once more, a grotesque smile filling the gaps of their awkwardly crude affections. that took all the will power available to him and gods, he hopes to whatever higher being existed (mage viktor????) that viktor knows he's not kissing him back not because he doesn't want to. oh, no. it's because he deserves something proper and level headed after everything. they both do.
viktor's apology is accepted with a dip of his head, a sweet rub of his thumbs over inorganic limbs, and the press of lips to purple-gold palms, a linger there, mess to bloody mess, that felt okay whilst sharing in their muck. it's okay, he murmurs.
jayce tests it out; first stretching out one leg, rotating his foot and bending his knee. then the other, left side, accompanied by the many clicks of his brace fitting the gears into proper place for a stretch and bend. that and the rotation brings strain to his teeth and neck, a quiet agh as the exposed bone grates against its fissures, but that's not something entirely new. he could move his arms and hands, his overtaken wrist. maybe a wave of all his fingers was in order, to measure movement capabilities. it's all successful. ]
I can feel . . . Touch. Your heat. Joints are functional. Thermoregulation might be, uh . . . Compromised. The pain feels— [ he looks for the word, a descriptor for what felt like he was reading off notes, ] veiled.
[ it is present, but quiet enough to be tolerated. a dull ache where he'd hurt instead of dolor that'd render him nonfunctional. ]
It's there, but it feels blunted. [ there's a better word, for that, he realizes: ] Chronic.
[ he could just, you know. be exhausted and rightfully achey, but this does feel different. he knows chronic pain now, in his leg. it's spread everywhere he's opened. back. shoulder. leg. chest. ]
I understand. [he understands that kind of pain very well and he aches for Jayce to know what he's going through. Still, it's better to be alive and hurting than give in.]
We'll find a way to manage the pain, I promise. I won't rest until I find a way to make it bearable for you. [Viktor's not even sure he needs to sleep in this form, but guess they'll see. He eyes the tubes and valves connecting their bodies, how slipshod the whole operation was. It's a cruel thought, but he really owes this kind of capability to Singed. Viktor definitely wouldn't know how to pull something so bio-mechanical off without having learned from that man.
He also could not let what he loved die.]
I have the strength to carry you back to the Convoy, in case you can't walk. We can rehabilitate that, if your coordination is in poor shape. And, you probably need something more careful to clean up than a shower, this time around... [he won't leave Jayce to figure this out himself. If Viktor is going to be so selfish as to revive him, he'll see through all the tough recovery to follow.]
Before then, we'll need to clamp off the connection between us. I don't want to risk it being too soon, Jayce.
[ he had to do this all alone, once. it made him . . . very aware, of what viktor himself had to do alone, for a very long time. it makes jayce beyond appreciative of the care that is being considered steps ahead. he's not sure he could walk after this. he needed rest. he needed to get clean, and scrub and scrub and scrub at his skin until it was raw.
when, though, that wasn't something jayce could pass judgement. biology was not his strong suit. and more than that: ]
You'll be the judge of that, Viktor. [ viktor was the one who did the procedure. he's the one most equipped to make the call, any call. jayce takes a glance around them; the stench has become a dull nothing but air for him to breathe, and the blood that looked like a child threw paint into a pool isn't . . . coagulating. it's supposed to go thick. here, it's . . . syrupy, thin like water. there's nothing in it to thicken, the reason he bled out like a slaughter house boar to begin with. it's sickening to even imagine he had this much blood in him. ] I lost . . . "a lot" of blood doesn't begin to describe it.
Alright- I'll... cut the flow and if you feel unwell, tell me right away. I won't disconnect anything fully until you think you can manage without.
[It is very involved to set up all these damned tubes, but it might become their new normal. The blood pool they're wadding around in is a clue to just how bad Jayce's body was doing. Why he died the way he did was really no wonder at all. The anomaly had corrupted everything inside him irreparably. Only a complete system flush and restart could get him to stabilize. At least, that's Viktor's theory...]
You lost all your blood, Jayce. See it- as a good thing. Getting the worst of the infection out. I think I have replaced your circulatory system with what is in mine, this- evolved shimmer. The arcane seems to be holding you together now.
[which, honestly, just sounds like Hextech. All things back to that, huh? They do what they know.]
I seem to have enough blood for us both. You might need transfusions regularly.
[ jayce nods; he wouldn't not, so in that regard, he'll keep attentive. he'll just . . . try not to look too much. at all might be best. finding it better to close his eyes and tip his head back, jayce keeps his attention to speaking, listening— anything that wasn't acute concentration on how the smallest clips and jostles were keenly felt within him. it wasn't painful, but it was uncomfortable and bizarre. what wasn't, now? ]
Kind of burns sometimes. [ an optimistic outlook, and perhaps— what could have really been happening. viktor's theories were always spot on. he'd believe them blindly. ] Is this what you felt?
[ part of him is worried about regular transfusions. taking too much from viktor and making him erode, switch the tables another time when jayce would prefer to take the brunt of the bodily suffering. but they're in the dark about too many things. knowing more about their own biology might do them some good.
getting them back, that . . . jayce had focused on that to return home. home was where viktor was. his priorities— could change. he'd look into it, perhaps, for the others. but viktor selfishly takes his antecedence. greedily, jayce allows it. he's never allowed himself anything selfish beyond viktor.
he'll do it again, and keeps absolutely still for his partner to do what he must. even hold his breath, he'll do. oddly, he doesn't have difficulty. ]
Yes... Yes, it's the same feeling for me. A terrible searing, traveling backwards in the veins. Only to bring about a... painful euphoria.
[That last part was definitely something Viktor resented. There was an undeniable thrill to the shimmer, the rush of power. Feeling more alive than the dullness of existence usually provided. Intensity that made a man feel unstoppable, able to conquer anything.
Explains how he could pull all this off, if he's simply full of the stuff now. Addicted as much as any mortal man is addicted to their own blood. Simply in need of it to keep going. He's condemned Jayce to the same fate, which is cruel and yet. He's guilty, not remorseful. As he said.
Viktor shunts the first of the valves connecting them, quelling some of the flow. Monitoring Jayce's condition, reaching to press fingers into the pulse at his neck. Firmly pressed to be thorough, but still holding Jayce to be caring. Without any change in his condition, Viktor turns another closed. There's three draining himself to Jayce's body, Viktor is very hesitant on the last. He doesn't want to do this wrong, cause more suffering or simply lose Jayce all over again.
Without shimmer high and a mechanical heart to keep him at a level pulse, Viktor would have had a panic attack or nervous breakdown by now from raw stress. Much as he resents his present state of being, he also thanks his lucky stars for the resilience it grants him. He'll work up the will to turn that last valve shut. When the remaining blood finished working into Jayce, that'll be the final test. Can he... live on his own, unconnected from Viktor as a living blood bag?]
[ there is a bit of a tingle at the edges of that burning . . . but jayce finds euphoria too strong a word to describe the dull little spark that rivals the dim throbbing of his chronic pains. something to take note of, then, and let viktor know as he turns one valve, then the other, all of which produce a pulling sensation of discomfort that tightens his jaws and curls his toes in his boots. ]
I could still be getting sensation back. It's . . . Not that strong a kick.
[ he's literally going to eat those words, one day soon. there is understandable hesitation on that last valve, but jayce isn't feeling anything alarming. he gives viktor that extra nudge, a single encouraging nod as he lifts his attention away and holds his breath during.
his heartbeat is worryingly low compared to a true human's— twenty or so beats per minute, but it is constant and steady with no signs of stopping, and jayce doesn't feel ill or foggy. luckily, the newborn draugr, or any revenant, does not need much blood to live. this amount in his circulation, for starters, is just fine. jayce could be a little more bronze, but his current complexion is at least a few satisfying shades away from too pale. dead pale. the pale he'd been after his exsanguination. ]
How's it looking?
[ he's a little . . . anxious. he's not looking into himself for that answer. ]
Looks a mess... but you're still talking to me, aren't you?
[Viktor huffs, trying to maintain some strict composure. Some sanity, amidst the madness of the situation. He thumbs across Jayce's cheekbone, his pulse point, tilts his head to look down into his exposed chest. Viktor can become... complete desensitized to the gore of the sight. It's shot the moon into fascination. Watching what was once his own heart working in pulses. Fighting for the man's very life. That's all Viktor could ask for it to accomplish.]
Your heart rate is very low, but mine was never that strong.
[ low but beating. his pulse was weak, shallow, but that is a natural occurrence for the kind he's become and they barely know a thing about. viktor's heart has adapted to jayce's chest like it was always meant to be nestled in there, so close that his ribs would hug him. he needs the bare minimum and a madman to try. and now he's here, with both he wouldn't be caught . . . dead? taking them for granted. he'd guard his heart as the most precious thing he'd ever been given, because it was. he'd blast anything apart that's so much as threaten viktor. his heart. his literal, figurative heart.
jayce sets a grimy hand over viktor's when he catches him taking smack about the most gracious thing he's given him.
It doesn't need to be perfect when it was always enough, Viktor.
[ in more ways than just keeping jayce physically alive. the depth of having his partner's heart in his chest, thumping slowly and keeping him . . . alive, giving him his blood— he doesn't know where to begin with repaying this. he does, actually. it starts with living. ]
[If his heart cannot keep Jayce going, then that's the last end of them both. It has to work. It has to. There is no other choice, for either of them. And they clearly cannot go on without each other. Neither can bare it.]
If you have the strength, try to sit up. I'll catch you if you can't yet.
[Yet. Being hopeful that it will be possible soon enough...]
[ he doesn't know until what point he could, but only trying would get him to any point of possibility. jayce waits for only a few self encouraging moments to anchor his hands wherever he could— viktor himself, grips within the cargo bed, anything he could flex his stiff fingers on, before it's a sharp breath in for him, one that shifts the bones of his right rib, oh that feels—
ignore the creak, ignore the little pops of bone moving— jayce forces his arms to contract and hoist his upper half up. it does not go without his grunts, turning into snarls as if that would intimidate his limbs to move the way he needed them to. with locked jaws and a trembling grip, jayce manages.
it's— strange. he's not tired, in the sense that he otherwise would be. he does not need to huff for air. it's more a sensation of . . . fighting to get the controls working. coordination. rest, he'd realize would be a good idea later. ]
I don't know, [ the aches drum like a faraway migraine. not so awful that he couldn't tolerate it, not so quiet that he couldn't feel it there, reminding him of his limits. ] how much more I could do.
Anything you can do, Jayce, is enough. I'll help you the rest of the way. As much as you like.
[Viktor doesn't want to force anything on Jayce, not anything more than he already has. He knows this is a terrible state to be in, that it is Viktor's fault for not being able to let the man go. Something they share, it was just Viktor's turn this time. That Jayce is immediately so forgiving, so glad to be alive despite the pain and terror of the situation, is what's holding Viktor together.
He'll begin to pull away the tubes connecting them. Jayce seems stable enough with the flow of shimmer cut. Once they're separated, Viktor isn't going anywhere,]
I'll carry you back to the Convoy, if that's alright... [a bit late to be asking permission for things, but Viktor can try to be better on that front. He knows well the resentment that can form when one is being too coddled or too neglected.]
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Viktor gives the most passive shrug to the question. Downright blaze of him, like it's the easiest answer he has to offer in all this.]
Of course I did.
[his body is a biomechanical nightmare, but that doesn't feel far from what Viktor already understood of himself. He had been falling apart so long in his natural form that enhancements had been required to keep him going long before now. His leg and chest brace, the anchors in his back... he had experience in modifying himself. This was just another feat of engineering to undergo.]
It isn't very impressive. A pump with some batteries. You'll probably scold me for how shambles it is, but it functions. That is all that matters. [Viktor can spare elegance for practicality and that's what he's mechanical heart is. Scrap and wit. It suits Viktor, he thinks.]
no subject
his palm finds the other's nape, the inorganic braids of shimmer-fused metal and nestles fis forehead back to him. jayce lets out an objecting click of his tongue, ]
I'll cut you some slack, this time. [ one that follows a snort— a bit of a sob, a bit of a laugh, and his voice an exhausted drawl that has found a starting point in getting through this. it's always been right in front of him. he thought he lost viktor. he nearly gave up. he's so glad he didn't— he's glad viktor didn't either, even if the price they had to pay was . . . big. jayce would pay anything due.
it feels just a bit more possible to accept that he's . . . not right. it would never be easy— jayce feels like the second he finds himself alone he would spiral. but, not right now. he doesn't have to worry about that now. ]
You're . . . Brilliant.
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[Viktor cannot help a smile at Jayce's commentary. He's getting more lucid without it being full blown panic. It's so devastatingly hopeful. Something they have in such, such short supply here. Viktor wants to believe the man will be able to live. There's no letting him go, the cost far too sunk.
He tries to hug Jayce however is possible, his tall and thin form pretty good for it, though he's still cluttered with valves and tubes connecting them. No kinking those, that would be uncomfortable...]
But you never let that scare you off. You always find a way to... persist.
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[ he's crazy and he loves that about him. he's crazy enough to match jayce's freak, and jayce matches his. so much, that— jayce now tries desperately not to let his eyes wander lower down viktor's face when he smiles at him from profile. the mole just above his lip is right where he catches himself, redirecting his eyes forward and waiting out the time they needed for the procedure to finalize. his first direct confession was ignored. his first attempt at a kiss was a traumatic disaster.
as much as he yearned to feel it, now was not a good time, he's got a damn hole in his chest and they're both connected to each other through tubes on top of organs. if he's smart, he probably shouldn't try again at all. this . . . is more than he thought he'd get. more time. another chance, and a drastic spectacle of viktor's feelings. he loves him and that's that. he has his heart, now. he doesn't need more than this. ]
I told you, [ jayce pats the top of viktor's slender hands, then rubs at each bump of his golden-clad knuckles. ] I promised you.
[ i told you i loved you, too. ]
. . . Viktor, [ something is stirring in him, a feeling. a feeling that . . . he doesn't need to hide anymore. he has viktor where he's always wanted him. aware and understanding of everything. he can be transparent. he could finally spill the truth that he was angry at jayce for hiding. that viktor wasn't ready. ] This isn't the first time you've given me a part of you.
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They're already cuddled up in the rotting decay and blood pool. It's unsavory, but not enough to spoil the moment of accomplishment and elation of Jayce returning to him.]
I have? Ah, in your future-? What of me?
[Viktor asks this quietly, curiosity bleeding out of him so obviously. Jayce being from further along is of simultaneous great interest and causes him such anxiety. He dies. Jayce brings him back using the Hexcore. Jayce falls down a fucking ravine... and crawls himself up out of it.
He realizes he's in love with Viktor. Had been. For who knows how long.
Viktor wants to know what more happened. It was too much to process before, but if he waits to have processing power, he'll be waiting forever. Everything is too much and so nothing is.]
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In my future, [ settling his hand on top of viktor's he pulls at two fingers, guiding them past the webs of rough patches and colored pink-purple webbing . . . to right over the rune in his wrist, tracing over it and its symbol. the source of his obsession. the comfort during his stress. safety in a blizzard. awe and wonder in a world sometimes so bleak. ] and in my past.
[ he should take small steps, starting with the steady implication that was bound to distract them a little more from the nest of gore they've made. night makes it look like dark water. ]
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[Logically, no, but with arcane fuckery and enough grief, all things are possible. Viktor's paradox is unknown to him, but he had felt the echoes of it. That desire to rescue Jayce and his mother, something he never voiced before their shower talk. The pull of the acceleration rune in Heimerdinger's lab, leading him to steal away with it and Jayce's research notes to return to him. Against all better judgement, against his gratitude towards the Dean of the Academy.
Viktor was always so willing to cast everything aside... for Jayce. For the slimmest hope of their dream.]
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It was you who gave me this, Viktor. When I was a boy. [ the gem reflects the nighttime lights off of the smoothly cut edges, and it is still a spot he will rub, even now. when he's done that, looking for comfort . . . it was so clear what it was about, now. it's always been him. they've always called to each other somehow. were always there, even when they diverged, and waiting for them to unite when they were prepared to. ] You saved me, and my mother— You were the Mage.
[ jayce parts his lips one more time, but nothing comes out until a few moments after. he lowers his voice to a bare hush, as low as the leaves when they shiver on overhead branches lining the long road ahead of them. a long road, indeed. he doesn't know where to go from here, exactly. but he does know he hast to go forward. if viktor is with him, he would. ]
You were always my dream, and I . . . Realized that too late.
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He just needs affirmation that he's put this together, because it's not logical, it's all feeling. This is what happens to him?]
That's... what the hexcore does to me? It makes me a mage-? [On Runeterra, you have to be born a mage. It is inherent, fated, predestined. To become one... Viktor huffs and smirks. Him-? A brittle, sickly boy from the Undercity? With no family name and no prospects? The only place in the world for him the one that he clawed out and forged with his own wit and will?
Viktor wobbles his head slightly,]
Eeeh, a bit too poetic... don't you think?
[A joke, but there's that profound truth inside it. Him. A mage.
The mage who came to Jayce's rescue.
He likes the sound of it. He doesn't have a heart left to swell, but that same emotion is still there. Warmth, affection, yearning. Loving and being loved.]
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I wish it could be. [ he is whistful at best. ] The hexcore . . . Changed you, for a long time. Like the Moon Warp did.
[ all this metal was so similar to when jayce had fused him with the hexcore, but . . . more. so much more. ]
You lost everything to become that mage. That's why he found me. [ to show him the importance of his emotions, and banes, and everything he's been through that made him viktor. to show him that the suffering is what made the journey. to tell him that with even those very things he saw as flaws, he was loved because of them. that's what made him viktor and no one else. ] You told me there was no prize to perfection. Only an end to pursuit.
[ that viktor corrected a fault, but only after being the only surviving person on runeterra. only after damning himself and everyone else. ]
And fields of dreamless solitude.
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Yes... Yes, that is what it was like.
[Field of dreamless solitude. A poet, indeed. Viktor supposes the mage had nothing but time to think that one up. He speaks to how it had been as the Herald, just needing to tell someone about it. Have it be heard. He knows it doesn't excuse his actions, his violence and cruelty, but he cannot bare the burden of that experience alone. It is too much to go unspoken,]
Endless, vast numbness. Profound loneliness. So empty even I wasn't there.
[they both died for a moment there, hadn't they? Jayce's body failing him and Viktor's mind giving way. His arms curl protectively around Jayce, wishing to hold him so close they fuse together. He's more gentle than that, knowing it would hurt them both if he was too brutish.
In a more tender display of his desperate affections, he kisses Jayce's temple, his eyelid on the side of his still golden eye, his nose. Peppering him with no real direction. So different from when the Herald pushed his face to Jayce's, driven only by cold logic.
He just loves the man so much, he doesn't know what else to do with himself to show that. Viktor's done everything he could, hasn't he? He mutters, nuzzled to Jayce's cheekbone,]
I only want to exist where you are, Jayce. You've showed me that.
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the side of jayce's head pushes into viktor's neck, a dirty hand fastening to the defined slant of his cheeks to soothe his tears. he had callouses, cuts, bruises, the remains of his bodily oil spill under his nails and yet he still manages a gentle, accessible touch. he was there to listen. he's glad to be. it makes this hole in him manageable, or at least jayce would like to think so when emotion blanketed reality.
cupping the man's face from the side finishes in him rubbing the veined corners of his eyes dry, although that might just leave it grimy and smudged. thought that counts— but viktor's display makes him freeze up. the dip of his temple gains warm, earnest lips. his eye is rewarded, his nose— damn it, even his nose is revered. his nostrils were an ugly, splattering stain of crimson-pink all the way past his neck where he had bled out. there are other aimless little places and jayce fights the urge not to look at him, fingers beginning to squeeze his hugging arms, caressing the press to slant following his beard with his profile. it was so very different. it was everything. ]
Then I didn't fail, after all.
[ he can't take it. he pulls his head back to look at him. he doesn't regret it, but he does stare for too long, touching the mole under his eye and following the veiny trails of purple down the curve of his face— jayce shakes his head at himself and huffs what should, or could, be a laugh somewhere. it triggers a few coughs, and a weird, watery gurgle that he curses the shit out of. ]
I'm a mess, Viktor.
[ he's trying to laugh at the expense. maybe that will be enough copium. ]
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I am sorry, for... for the indignity and the hurt. I feel guilty to put you through this, but not... remorseful. [He wouldn't change what he did, after all. Any way he could bring Jayce back to him, Viktor would attempt again and again. Even if it caused him to go utterly mad.
Already feels that way, but at least he's content in his madness. Happy, even.]
Can you move any of your limbs? Feel beyond just pain?
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jayce feels slight relief when he manages to steer his gaze away, once more, a grotesque smile filling the gaps of their awkwardly crude affections. that took all the will power available to him and gods, he hopes to whatever higher being existed (mage viktor????) that viktor knows he's not kissing him back not because he doesn't want to. oh, no. it's because he deserves something proper and level headed after everything. they both do.
viktor's apology is accepted with a dip of his head, a sweet rub of his thumbs over inorganic limbs, and the press of lips to purple-gold palms, a linger there, mess to bloody mess, that felt okay whilst sharing in their muck. it's okay, he murmurs.
jayce tests it out; first stretching out one leg, rotating his foot and bending his knee. then the other, left side, accompanied by the many clicks of his brace fitting the gears into proper place for a stretch and bend. that and the rotation brings strain to his teeth and neck, a quiet agh as the exposed bone grates against its fissures, but that's not something entirely new. he could move his arms and hands, his overtaken wrist. maybe a wave of all his fingers was in order, to measure movement capabilities. it's all successful. ]
I can feel . . . Touch. Your heat. Joints are functional. Thermoregulation might be, uh . . . Compromised. The pain feels— [ he looks for the word, a descriptor for what felt like he was reading off notes, ] veiled.
[ it is present, but quiet enough to be tolerated. a dull ache where he'd hurt instead of dolor that'd render him nonfunctional. ]
It's there, but it feels blunted. [ there's a better word, for that, he realizes: ] Chronic.
[ he could just, you know. be exhausted and rightfully achey, but this does feel different. he knows chronic pain now, in his leg. it's spread everywhere he's opened. back. shoulder. leg. chest. ]
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We'll find a way to manage the pain, I promise. I won't rest until I find a way to make it bearable for you. [Viktor's not even sure he needs to sleep in this form, but guess they'll see. He eyes the tubes and valves connecting their bodies, how slipshod the whole operation was. It's a cruel thought, but he really owes this kind of capability to Singed. Viktor definitely wouldn't know how to pull something so bio-mechanical off without having learned from that man.
He also could not let what he loved die.]
I have the strength to carry you back to the Convoy, in case you can't walk. We can rehabilitate that, if your coordination is in poor shape. And, you probably need something more careful to clean up than a shower, this time around... [he won't leave Jayce to figure this out himself. If Viktor is going to be so selfish as to revive him, he'll see through all the tough recovery to follow.]
Before then, we'll need to clamp off the connection between us. I don't want to risk it being too soon, Jayce.
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when, though, that wasn't something jayce could pass judgement. biology was not his strong suit. and more than that: ]
You'll be the judge of that, Viktor. [ viktor was the one who did the procedure. he's the one most equipped to make the call, any call. jayce takes a glance around them; the stench has become a dull nothing but air for him to breathe, and the blood that looked like a child threw paint into a pool isn't . . . coagulating. it's supposed to go thick. here, it's . . . syrupy, thin like water. there's nothing in it to thicken, the reason he bled out like a slaughter house boar to begin with. it's sickening to even imagine he had this much blood in him. ] I lost . . . "a lot" of blood doesn't begin to describe it.
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[It is very involved to set up all these damned tubes, but it might become their new normal. The blood pool they're wadding around in is a clue to just how bad Jayce's body was doing. Why he died the way he did was really no wonder at all. The anomaly had corrupted everything inside him irreparably. Only a complete system flush and restart could get him to stabilize. At least, that's Viktor's theory...]
You lost all your blood, Jayce. See it- as a good thing. Getting the worst of the infection out. I think I have replaced your circulatory system with what is in mine, this- evolved shimmer. The arcane seems to be holding you together now.
[which, honestly, just sounds like Hextech. All things back to that, huh? They do what they know.]
I seem to have enough blood for us both. You might need transfusions regularly.
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Kind of burns sometimes. [ an optimistic outlook, and perhaps— what could have really been happening. viktor's theories were always spot on. he'd believe them blindly. ] Is this what you felt?
[ part of him is worried about regular transfusions. taking too much from viktor and making him erode, switch the tables another time when jayce would prefer to take the brunt of the bodily suffering. but they're in the dark about too many things. knowing more about their own biology might do them some good.
getting them back, that . . . jayce had focused on that to return home. home was where viktor was. his priorities— could change. he'd look into it, perhaps, for the others. but viktor selfishly takes his antecedence. greedily, jayce allows it. he's never allowed himself anything selfish beyond viktor.
he'll do it again, and keeps absolutely still for his partner to do what he must. even hold his breath, he'll do. oddly, he doesn't have difficulty. ]
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[That last part was definitely something Viktor resented. There was an undeniable thrill to the shimmer, the rush of power. Feeling more alive than the dullness of existence usually provided. Intensity that made a man feel unstoppable, able to conquer anything.
Explains how he could pull all this off, if he's simply full of the stuff now. Addicted as much as any mortal man is addicted to their own blood. Simply in need of it to keep going. He's condemned Jayce to the same fate, which is cruel and yet. He's guilty, not remorseful. As he said.
Viktor shunts the first of the valves connecting them, quelling some of the flow. Monitoring Jayce's condition, reaching to press fingers into the pulse at his neck. Firmly pressed to be thorough, but still holding Jayce to be caring. Without any change in his condition, Viktor turns another closed. There's three draining himself to Jayce's body, Viktor is very hesitant on the last. He doesn't want to do this wrong, cause more suffering or simply lose Jayce all over again.
Without shimmer high and a mechanical heart to keep him at a level pulse, Viktor would have had a panic attack or nervous breakdown by now from raw stress. Much as he resents his present state of being, he also thanks his lucky stars for the resilience it grants him. He'll work up the will to turn that last valve shut. When the remaining blood finished working into Jayce, that'll be the final test. Can he... live on his own, unconnected from Viktor as a living blood bag?]
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I could still be getting sensation back. It's . . . Not that strong a kick.
[ he's literally going to eat those words, one day soon. there is understandable hesitation on that last valve, but jayce isn't feeling anything alarming. he gives viktor that extra nudge, a single encouraging nod as he lifts his attention away and holds his breath during.
his heartbeat is worryingly low compared to a true human's— twenty or so beats per minute, but it is constant and steady with no signs of stopping, and jayce doesn't feel ill or foggy. luckily, the newborn draugr, or any revenant, does not need much blood to live. this amount in his circulation, for starters, is just fine. jayce could be a little more bronze, but his current complexion is at least a few satisfying shades away from too pale. dead pale. the pale he'd been after his exsanguination. ]
How's it looking?
[ he's a little . . . anxious. he's not looking into himself for that answer. ]
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[Viktor huffs, trying to maintain some strict composure. Some sanity, amidst the madness of the situation. He thumbs across Jayce's cheekbone, his pulse point, tilts his head to look down into his exposed chest. Viktor can become... complete desensitized to the gore of the sight. It's shot the moon into fascination. Watching what was once his own heart working in pulses. Fighting for the man's very life. That's all Viktor could ask for it to accomplish.]
Your heart rate is very low, but mine was never that strong.
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jayce sets a grimy hand over viktor's when he catches him taking smack about the most gracious thing he's given him.
It doesn't need to be perfect when it was always enough, Viktor.
[ in more ways than just keeping jayce physically alive. the depth of having his partner's heart in his chest, thumping slowly and keeping him . . . alive, giving him his blood— he doesn't know where to begin with repaying this. he does, actually. it starts with living. ]
Should I try to move?
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[If his heart cannot keep Jayce going, then that's the last end of them both. It has to work. It has to. There is no other choice, for either of them. And they clearly cannot go on without each other. Neither can bare it.]
If you have the strength, try to sit up. I'll catch you if you can't yet.
[Yet. Being hopeful that it will be possible soon enough...]
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[ he doesn't know until what point he could, but only trying would get him to any point of possibility. jayce waits for only a few self encouraging moments to anchor his hands wherever he could— viktor himself, grips within the cargo bed, anything he could flex his stiff fingers on, before it's a sharp breath in for him, one that shifts the bones of his right rib, oh that feels—
ignore the creak, ignore the little pops of bone moving— jayce forces his arms to contract and hoist his upper half up. it does not go without his grunts, turning into snarls as if that would intimidate his limbs to move the way he needed them to. with locked jaws and a trembling grip, jayce manages.
it's— strange. he's not tired, in the sense that he otherwise would be. he does not need to huff for air. it's more a sensation of . . . fighting to get the controls working. coordination. rest, he'd realize would be a good idea later. ]
I don't know, [ the aches drum like a faraway migraine. not so awful that he couldn't tolerate it, not so quiet that he couldn't feel it there, reminding him of his limits. ] how much more I could do.
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[Viktor doesn't want to force anything on Jayce, not anything more than he already has. He knows this is a terrible state to be in, that it is Viktor's fault for not being able to let the man go. Something they share, it was just Viktor's turn this time. That Jayce is immediately so forgiving, so glad to be alive despite the pain and terror of the situation, is what's holding Viktor together.
He'll begin to pull away the tubes connecting them. Jayce seems stable enough with the flow of shimmer cut. Once they're separated, Viktor isn't going anywhere,]
I'll carry you back to the Convoy, if that's alright... [a bit late to be asking permission for things, but Viktor can try to be better on that front. He knows well the resentment that can form when one is being too coddled or too neglected.]
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