[ jayce has gone from a hanging sack of potatoes to a slanted sack of potatoes. the herald still towers over him as he leans against the framework of his pick up for support, staring at the uncanny form before him, its metal slopes and curves, bolts and graceful asymmetry, searching for viktor in cold, gold garnished eyes and finding nothing but suffocating emptiness.
the crutch— he takes it. jayce clutches viktor's crutch as if its the only thing he has left of him— a symbol of his strife and accomplishments, of his rise in a world that was so split, of all of his hard work, of his beautiful imperfections that jayce did love, with all of his heart and soul. he helped make this crutch for him.
jayce allows the herald to leave in the same way he'd ended up here: in a dreadful silence of quiet nods and simple gestures (not that it matters, to viktor). he needs to think, to scrape up what he's gathered— maybe do a little more digging as a final drive. his heart skips in places that feel uncomfortable. his limbs ache with cold, until it devolves into a gradually creeping, painful numbness.
he finishes up, gives his papers all to serph, eventually, and waits for either the herald to return or for death to pay him a visit. he thinks he's more prepared for the latter. ]
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the crutch— he takes it. jayce clutches viktor's crutch as if its the only thing he has left of him— a symbol of his strife and accomplishments, of his rise in a world that was so split, of all of his hard work, of his beautiful imperfections that jayce did love, with all of his heart and soul. he helped make this crutch for him.
jayce allows the herald to leave in the same way he'd ended up here: in a dreadful silence of quiet nods and simple gestures (not that it matters, to viktor). he needs to think, to scrape up what he's gathered— maybe do a little more digging as a final drive. his heart skips in places that feel uncomfortable. his limbs ache with cold, until it devolves into a gradually creeping, painful numbness.
he finishes up, gives his papers all to serph, eventually, and waits for either the herald to return or for death to pay him a visit. he thinks he's more prepared for the latter. ]