[ after the surrounding light, the burst, there is blackness. that's to be expected, nevermind the nightmares of waves leading up to this final day on runeterra— or so jayce thought. just as all goes dim, the water surrounds, and he neither sinks or swims. he simply hangs in nothing, in suspension as unseen tendrils surround him, whisper into his bones and awaken his spine: what is it you want?. he doesn't know who he's listening to, where he is, if he even is in his latency, this limbo. there is something missing from his soul and it's the only thing he beckons for. he answers the only voice that hears him, without thought: viktor.
and then he wakes. not in panic, for some reason, he honestly feels— starlit, still. dreamy. not all there. even his body still warps with the warm colors of the astral plane, but over his face sits a misty mask, nothing solid, nothing he could remove and barely something he could even feel enough to care. the sky looks painted, the trees strike wondrous poses and their bark shimmers like stardust and the night sky. would he count on something as unsupported as an afterlife? absolutely not. but. perhaps whithin the arcane, within an infinite loop of illusions born from their own creativity? (strange, he doesn't thing he'd create any of this, so . . . where on runeterra—?) water trickles into a fountain pool of white marble and the fresh scent of mint, flora and citrus tickles his nose. even with his estranged senses struggling to register every burst of new information, there is only one thing on his mind: ]
[ Grass, and beneath it, soil. It's such a stark contrast to chilled air rushing past him, sound ricocheting off metal plates, the emptiness of space, the blinding lights of astral nebulae. His vision swims into focus on slender, pink fingers with short, clean nails—he flexes his hands and the ones below him clench between the green blades. They can't be his, must be some kind of hallucination or projection. No, he's dead.
He'd been vaguely aware of something crashing into his face, more focused on the minds and souls he was absorbing, one in particular. Jayce had been there with him, floating above it all, showing him impossible memories from another's mind. His mind. A different mind. It had been so... confusing. He'd finally become fully evolved, above the need for things like limbs and legs, things that had betrayed him for so long that they were obviously better cast aside. He'd transcended above emotion, too, and other useless things that weren't efficient. Humanity needed efficiency to be useful—that was all that mattered in the end, wasn't it? Not someone's beauty or ambition or brilliance, unless it was aimed at a goal and an outcome. ]
No... [ His fingers tear at the grass, fists clenched tight as he brings them to his face and run into a barrier between hands and eyes. For a second he's filled with sickening relief and dizzying terror to consider he was still the same, The Herald, but his hands...
Leaning back, he looks down at the rest of himself and sees pallid, pale skin everywhere he looks. His modesty—does he have any left?—is protected by a scrap of blue fabric tangled around his waist. Relaxing his hands and letting the grass flutter down around him, he once again touches his face and feels a mask jostle but not lift, his fingers unable to catch the edges like it's made of mercury. His breathing quickens, which is illogical given he may be back in his old, broken, useless body, but— ]
Jayce?
[ He calls back on instinct when he hears his name, recognizing the voice calling to him and turning towards it like a sunflower in search of sunlight. ]
[ the call rings in his ears like damn church bells and before long, jayce is swerving on his heels to find his partner, an arm's length of space away that he quickly detonates to drop to the ground with. viktor, his voice skips, and louder does the urgency hanmer into him. ]
—I'm here.
[ but it's strange and even if it's obvious, there's a bit of a switch flipped against his reasoning, making it difficult to pinpoint, specifically, where the oddity in this was when they were alive, or at least seemed that way. like being blind to the elephant in the room but aware of the size its taking up.
it doesn't matter; he's also abounding with the kick of adrenaline to really care or even dwell on it for more than a second. jayce's body works before he can register what its doing, like allowing it a mind of its own to get a job done. first: injuries. he looks over viktor clinically but attentive to detail, cautionary and worried but when he sees none— jayce nods his head a few too many times, squeezing viktor's shoulders with the round grip of his fingers. ]
You're alright. We're alright— [ physically speaking.apparently. why he was still a colorful, glowing beacon of his innermost self would have to wait. ]
[ Jayce falls to his knees in front of Viktor and in the back of his mind, he jolts at the thought of his injured leg being treated so roughly. It's ridiculous, though, because a quick look shows a man glowing, skin made up of color and light and the suggestion of a silhouette. He's ephemeral the way Viktor had gotten so used to being, so why... why is he in this mortal form?
You're alright. The words fall on ringing ears. Viktor can't bring himself to move for fear of his body betraying him, once again plagued with a leg that can't support him and lungs that drown him. Fear is irrational at its core and yet, Viktor is terrified about where they are and how, why repeating in his head like a twisted prayer.
Belatedly, he flinches away from Jayce's hands on his shoulders. He'd been so close to hurting him—he denies any killer intent, even now—and had almost wiped away everything about Jayce Talis that he— ]
Alright... [ He echoes it hollowly, shivering and finally lifting his eyes to look around them. Nothing is familiar, but then again, when had he last been fully aware of the physical world? When had his head last been below the clouds and clear of obsession? This could be Piltover and he just doesn't recognize it. ] Where are we?
[ viktor— flinches back and jayce's fingers stiffly curl into his palms. through a few rapid blinks, he considers, quickly and to himself: okay. alright. that's valid. he gives him space, no pushing for contact. especially not when he'd moments sooner had carved his own heart out, served it to viktor and said here. it's yours. i'm ready to go if you are and i wouldn't have it any other way.
that, with him assuming that was the end. jayce doesn't know how he's managed to look viktor in the eye, yet. must be the adrenaline. ]
I . . . I don't know, we must've . . . [ teleported, he starts with a hush, but his brain doesn't seem to be keeping up with the barrage of information, neither is it properly assimilating. too much going on. too much he's shifting to without greater awareness, a dent in rationale caused by a rush that only doesn't boil into panic because he still feels disconnect through the priority of endurance. barely.
jayce takes another look around to collect any possible evidence of jarring landmarks, anything he could recognize from books or memory. in the end, either there were none or he's still failing to digest and make sense of what he's seeing. it's just an orchard, with the sky spreading colors like oil paints.
and he's still . . . like this. not that it concerns him yet. he's just glad viktor looks exactly like the day he'd lost him. ]
[ Viktor's gaze snaps up to Jayce's face, ready to be indignant about being asked to stand, but the words die on his lips. He shouldn't be so quick to anger, shouldn't take a harmless question about the state of his well-being as a jab at his disability. Can he even stand? It's not sure at this point, but the point is, something on Jayce's face distracts him entirely. ]
Why are you wearing that? [ A mask hides his features, and even though Viktor can clearly see Jayce's eyes through the holes that allow him to see, looking at the accessory is unsettling. His gaze keeps trying to slide off of it, down to the mouth left visible, and Viktor raises his hands to feel at his face again. ] Why am I...
[ His hands shake as he lowers them as slowly as he can, careful not to seem as panicked as he feels. He'd been prepared to die, and now he has to live? That hadn't been the plan, if what had happened in the end could be called as such. It was too generous a word for something decided by pregnant silence and heavy looks.
Head hanging again, he shakes it almost imperceptibly. ] I don't think I can, and I... Well, I think I'm naked.
[ with a few disbelieving blinks, jayce's palm hovers over the upper half of his face to indeed discover a bronze domino mask he had never put on. okay. he doesn't remember doing that, but now that he's accutely aware of it, taking it off is strangely not something he wishes to do. does he question that either? not right now he doesn't, but does he think it's off the walls strange? by a considerable margin. one can tell in the way his thick brows crease.
it's true for the both of them, but only now does jayce's brain bother to register that viktor too, was wearing a mask that wasn't exactly his from before (even if it was an echo of it), when his tissue was of purple matter and metal destinction, assymetrical gold. a godly form and cold, unfeeling eyes that glowed like flared iron behind a mask that split his delicate face in two. he's kind of glad it isn't the case, but— how much of that matters when viktor looks like he may burst into a flurry at any moment? jayce, too. but his senses and logic feel blurred. are blurred. like he wasn't in his own damn body for some reason, which, what the hell—
there are more important things to worry about. he has no coat to speak for, nothing to help viktor cover up as he would've gladly stripped out of his battlecoat for. ]
Makes two of us, I think, [ empty humor, he supposes, doesn't really know what he's saying, stupidly— the best he could do is fix the remains of his . . . blanket, unfurling the cuff of viktor's neck to a fall around his thin shoulders. covering up his chest, his midsection, forcing his eyes up to his face and lingers on the mole above his lip. under his eye. then his eyes, iridescent pools. alive, jittering. full. a swell of relief comes to steal his inhale away from his lungs, but it seizes when he realizes viktor is still miraculously unharmed. hell. how much of this was real? was he real? ] I'll help you up.
[ jayce offers, palms up; they needed to check their surroundings and he was not keen on leaving viktor behind. they'll figure the rest out as they go. ]
[ Two of us has Viktor looking, very openly, at Jayce's body. It's true that he's not wearing any clothes, but there's also nothing visible to his form other than the outline of limbs and torso. It's strange that he'd still appear in this astral form while Viktor is... human. More human than he's been in so long, naked and vulnerable. He doesn't realize it, but he's started shaking again while his brain starts to question reality, including whether or not the Jayce speaking to him was real or some trick of whatever purgatory he's found himself in.
Flinching when hands reach out for him, he mutters an apology once it's obvious that Jayce doesn't intend any harm. There's barely enough of the blanket left to even be considered a blanket, more like scraps, and he watches familiar hands rearrange the fabric around his most private places. Glancing up at Jayce from beneath his eyelashes, he notes that the man isn't looking and huffs a soft, humorless laugh beneath his breath. ]
Sure. [ He prepares to gather his weight beneath himself, left leg curling under his body to take the brunt of the strain and left hand holding his meager covering in place at his hips. His other hand hovers, fingers spreading and then clenching, wanting to touch and know that Jayce was real but hating that he needs to ask for help. He's regressed fully into weak and afraid, no longer in control of his own life. ]
[ jayce meets him halfway, knows the hesitation for what it was (or at least he thinks so) and gathers viktor's hand from his wrist, downwards facing palm and curled fingers. the hold he gives is quite firm, a reminder, ]
Together.
[ before he plants his heels and lifts, his other hand soon to shepherd viktor from the small of his back in a testing hover. the weight of their contact is ever present— to their own surprise. jayce feels like a fizzy, heated star at the grip, and viktor, a body at a temperature not unlike quench water at their point of contact. steps are going to come as they can here, but the lack of sudden danger isn't exactly reassuring. jayce feels like he can't trust it (then again, he can't trust much of anything as of late; not even himself).
silence as they try to move forward falls under the same umbrella of disagreeable where his nerves are concerned, and the occasional, encouraging murmurs of that's it and i got you don't actually count, despite jayce wishing for it to fill something. he catches sight of what looks like a running fountain and leads them to the sound of a contained, smallscale cascade. it's not until his particularly bad leg buckles at the knee that jayce staggers with viktor in his arms. a gasped shit resounds and his good leg catches them, at the cost of a much tighter grip, but luckily they are within reach of the pristine marble surface, and crystaline water.
no pain, per se. but the dream echoes his true body, should this one not be it. they take a seat, they look around. well, jayce looks around, an absent hand on top of his thigh and stroking the ghost of muscles pricking. speaking of assumptions, the lull is killing him. jayce decides to break it once he could sit down. you know, the way he always breaks his problems. hammer, nail. ]
Got any theories?
[ it's what they're good at. it's what they could fall into, to figure this out. it's what they could do to ignore the massive fucking elephant in the room doing pirouettes on a circus ball. ]
[ Viktor wobbles to his feet, but as he stands, he realizes that the weakness isn't the kind he'd gotten used to over the too-few years of his life. His muscles are tired, yes, but not from the strain of keeping him standing or attempting to flex despite atrophy, but rather because all of him feels so weak. His left leg is as tired as the right one, not incapable of holding his weight but merely resistant to doing so.
Once he's standing, he keeps hold of Jayce's hand to maintain his balance—whether physically or mentally, even he isn't certain which one if not both. He wants to snap back at each encouragement, shut up Jayce wavering on the tip of his tongue, but the silence would be so much worse. It catches him off-guard when Jayce is the one whose leg threatens to fail, and Viktor's grip on him tightens to provide an anchor for him; it would be a pretty poor one, based solely on their differences in body weight, but Jayce is also currently a glowing rainbow, so it's hard to judge if he has body weight. ]
Got you. [ He helps Jayce ease down onto the edge of the fountain and, reluctant to relinquish his hand, pulls back nonetheless. His sorry excuse for clothes needs readjusting, and though at first he doesn't bother to turn around, he has a quick realization and turns his back to Jayce at the last minute. Pulling the scrapes from his neck and chest, he focuses on wrapping them around his hips which won't do much if the temperature starts to drop, but it does much more for his modesty than working with a hope and a prayer. ]
Theories? [ A pensive hum resonates through him as he ties his makeshift skirt in place. Turning around, he looks down at Jayce, at his astral skin and his dark hair and his wide, searching eyes. A flash of memory reminds Viktor of those eyes being narrowed at him with mistrust, with hatred.
Looking away, he tries to focus on their surroundings. ] My running theory is that I'm in some kind of purgatory, and you're a hallucination.
[ only a second too late and jayce realizes that maybe he should give him some privacy, only through how viktor turns and— right. awkwardly, but respectfully, he's sure to face in the opposite direction, astral legs at 9 o'clock, back at noon, and clearing the rasp going down his throat as viktor thinks it through.
jayce resists the urge to spin back around, but his attentive profile keeps viktor's blurry frame at the corner of his sight. a hallucination, huh. jayce doesn't not understand, but he might dislike the notion of being unreal. especially when he's as real as he could be. but . . . hell, he's questioned that, too. their manifestations don't match. pulling his lips into his mouth in sharp thought, almost to keep from frowning too hard and suffering creases, jayce speculates: ]
Counterargument, [ just a thought, ] we're alive. Or at least conscious— and still within the Arcane.
[ why would only one of them die? or perhaps, they both did? in their own personal limbo with their own personal hallucination of the other? ]
[ There shouldn't be any reason to maintain modesty, not when they're two scientists, men—friends? whatever they are— It doesn't seem like Viktor should be hiding his body from Jayce other than out of common manners and a vague notion that it might scandalize the little Piltie. Jayce has seen pretty much all of him already except for the bits now covered, some of his body shared while working on back brace designs, others when he'd fallen out of the Hex goo.
It feels uncomfortably familiar to be looking down at Jayce like this, so Viktor takes a seat on the fountain next to him. Strangely enough, he doesn't feel thirsty looking into his waters, yet saliva begins pooling on his tongue when his eyes land on some of the fruit hanging above them. ]
Counter-counterargument. If we're in the Arcane, why do you look like that but I look like this? [ He nods first to Jayce, and then down at himself. There aren't any bruises or indentations on his skin from years of wearing a leg brace, none of the runes he had carved into himself, and if he bends an arm behind him, he can't feel any of the rods implanted in his spine. ]
[ the water looks quenching. while a thought presses into the back of jayce's head to create, he tables the thought for now. the fountain ripples with . . . something, like the way rings would expand if a leaf were to fall upon it. he feels, instead, theories spring to the forefront of his mind like a trap. ]
Rebuttal, [ it's so easy to fall back on this. admittedly, it feels like home. it feels like what they should have been doing all those times either were absent from each other. jayce shakes the thought off like a pelt to continue, ] why not? There's no known constraint preventing it.
[ it's almost incredulous to think that he should be eating at a time like this, but jayce doesn't think when he reaches up and snaps off the first sphere he could grasp. it's an automatic response that seizes him, an innate fear embedded in his bones and deep in his stomach that the possibility of being without would follow wherever he'd go. ]
Our functions seem . . . intact. And, [ something . . . pokes in, call it jayce's arrogance, or confidence, or the fact that he simply knows, but he flips a colorful bulb stuck between wanting to be some sort of orange or pear in his hand, half to test his reflexes and half as a show of himself: ] for a hallucination, I'm making a compelling argument.
[ which hallucinations could never replicate. him? his brain? no. the same goes for viktor. the fact that he's questioning anything at all makes his shoulders relax from a tension pulled taut.
on some level, this is real. he nearly bites into the fruit with ravenous intent before it dawns on him that he hasn't thought to share. mid bite, and apologetically, he reaches for another and hands it to viktor.
force of habit, and not one he's exactly proud of. ]
Jayce, between the two of us, who is an expert on arcane spaces? [ He doesn't say it unkindly, aware that it may come across as condescending, but to have someone refute his knowledge of the arcane and it's very few laws seems laughable. Then he has to remind himself that Jayce never saw inside of his mind until the end, didn't know how Sky lingered with him as a balm to his loneliness and a reminder of his guilt. Perhaps Jayce isn't a hallucination in the traditional sense, but it's very likely that he's only in Viktor's mind after his actions had led to the death of his partner but maybe not himself.
There are too many questions swirling through his head and deeper in his heart, things he doesn't want to acknowledge for fear of their weight crushing him should they be brought to the surface. He can remember their last moments, or what he'd thought would be their last moments, with such frightening clarity and yet everything between that and now feels like a forgotten dream. There had been water, waves, words, but the memory of them escape like smoke between his grasping fingers.
It's easier just to... be. Not thinking about the past or the future, just focusing on whatever is in front of him which is Jayce, primarily, and fruit, secondarily. Watching him hesitate before that first bite, like a dog remembering it's been domesticated when faced with a juicy steak, makes Viktor's chest tighten with sadness. Knowing now what he faced in that alternate reality, the starvation and agony and fear—he'll never fault him for falling on food like a wild beast. ]
Refutation. [ He takes the offered fruit and rubs his thumb over the soft, warm skin. ] A high caliber mind like mine would could easily argue with itself. I've done it since I was a child.
[ Dunking the fruit—a plum? a peach?—into the fountain, he gives it a cursory clean before withdrawing it and shaking it dry. The remaining moisture beads on the smooth surface, teardrops running over the skin and falling onto his thighs. He should be more cautious about the potential for it to be poisonous, yet the neat rows of trees, manicured grounds, and fountain suggest that this has been cultivates with a purpose. Besides, if he's already dead, what harm would a little poison do?
The first bite floods his mouth with juice, drawing a surprised sound from him as he leans forward out of instinct not to drip onto nonexistent clothes. ]
[ meanwhile, jayce sinks his own teeth and has little to dirty, especially with his body being a contained ball of stardust and colorful streams. if the juice of his plum-thing gushes, he's too busy actually swallowing the contents. the process of being filled comes first, the taste of it, second— and it's better than anything he could've thought about swallowing. his beard is about to get nasty and he's about to look a little crazy, but that's what you get when you give a now half-feral man something akin to a heart shaped mango.
he's still listening, despite the insistent slurping. ]
Okay, [ he retorts, but not letting that signal defeat in his own guesswork. just emphasis on continuation. unfortunately, jayce does this without pausing to actually chew his food. he's actually barely chewing at all, pieces of mush being swallowed in an instant and a warm pool hitting his belly. ] if you're the arcane space expert, then lets rule it out. Right here.
[ his fingers are twitching on the curve of the fruit's skin. it feels like . . . he's living a dream, that thisn't real, yes. that he's going through motions that don't feel like his but are, like he's doing them and watching them all at once. disturbing, really. but jayce refuses to think this isn't real, that he isn't real in viktor's eyes or that viktor isn't realy either, or that he's alive and jayce is some sort of spacial phantom (was that worse somehow? that viktor waas alive and jayce was . . . haunting him? augh. morbid. makes him nervous among other things. it makes his fingers from one hand tap relentlessly on his kneecap, holding his fruit in the other. he wouldn't be eating if he were a ghost. they wouldn't. would they? refute that. ]
[ Normally—that is, back when he had need for food to survive—Viktor's weak constitution had made it so easy for him to lose his appetite. Wet bites and loud slurps would have usually put him off from continuing his own snack, but after swallowing the first mouthful, he feels his hunger double. He continues at a much daintier pace than Jace, savoring the unique flavor and feeling it warm him from within. For a few moments he forgets about their debate, focused on eating, leaning closer and closer to Jayce as he goes.
When he's finished, he has a soft blush to his skin and his fingertips are stained with the purple juices. Licking them clean as he looks up into the branches above him, he hums pensively. ]
Physical appearances aside, I never felt hunger. The space around me was always celestial unless I was... looking through someone's memories. [ He's hesitant to admit it, to bring up the fact that he'd been in the heads of so many people, even if he'd only ever meant to help. For a while, he had helped Vander, and maybe that had lulled him into a sense of self-righteousness. ] And I could do anything.
[ With this, he raises a hand and feels... surprisingly, not nothing. There's no arcane energy flowing through him, nothing materializes despite his efforts, but there is an undercurrent still there that terrifies him. Quick to drop his hand, he dips it into the cool waters of the fountain to rinse it clean. ]
[ jayce hasn't realized he's huddled closer and closer to viktor until the shock of their knees and arms are too close together to allow for free movement (or any sort of shift that wouldn't jostle either of them from each other's side). it's a bit natural for jayce, to seek this sort of warmth when he's at his most soothed, to want to apply his affections onto viktor in every way his heart could've mustered and applied. none of that was truly possible until recently and . . . clasping the back of his partner's neck and pressing their heads together still left a weight across the gem crown on his forehead and his shoulders. made it run hot, and his blood bubble with quiet embarrassment at the words that fell off his lips like a dead man's eulogy.
jayce is sucking on the messy tips of his fingers by now, at least until they don't feel so . . . sloppy, not that he cares. much. his first instinct is to wipe on the top of his thigh but there's literally nothing there to really dry himself off other than a strange, dusty static of his own glamor. he follows viktor's lead to wash his hands in the dip of the fountain, flicking the lingering droplets off as he listens and drapes his gaze sideways on viktor's rosey profile. good look on you, he thinks.
something about that last part feels melancholic. jayce thinks he could understand, but not understand.
his hand curls, unfurls— before jayce felt it right to raise it over viktor's back instead of letting it hover, placing it upon his opposite shoulder. his palm is fizzy, warm, like sparkling cider and embers flaring at the tail end of fireworks. it felt right. felt especially good, like he hadn't done it in such a long while . . . well. sans the astral plane. ]
[ The sudden closeness that seems to have snuck up on both of them is startling, not just because he hadn't noticed moving closer but because there's still so much hanging unsaid between them. They had fought, he'd choked Jayce, nearly assimilated him and erased everything that made him so perfect. There had been words and touches, but he still can't help doubt that Jayce won't run away the second he's given the chance; Viktor would, if he were in the other's position. It had made sense for Jayce to say what he did to talk Viktor off the proverbial ledge just like he had the real one, and even though he believes that Jayce Talis is a good person, he also believes that no one would say such things to Viktor if it weren't for a greater, logical purpose. Jayce had had everything before the anomaly took him, and he could have gone back to all of that once Viktor was... dealt with; why, then, would he turn his back on it if not because it was the only way to make sure everything was set right?
Fingers clench beneath the surface of the water, and when he withdraws his hand, he watches the droplets run down the back and between his knuckles to fall once again into the fountain.
The touch on his shoulder is met with a flinch at first and then an instinctual melt into the familiar weight of Jayce's hand. It doesn't feel like skin touching skin, more like the dream of physical connection, far from the reassurance that he'd subconsciously hoped for that Jayce was, in fact, real. Maybe he was here just to remind Viktor of his transgressions, a phantom to keep him in check so that history wouldn't repeat itself wherever it is that he's ended up. ]
No, I don't think so. [ He hesitates to continue, but if he's just talking to himself, Jayce will already had suspected what he's about to say. ] There is something I can't describe, not the arcane but... similar.
[ jayce had been holding his breath, and now his chest finally deflates with the fleeting exhale past his lips once he feels viktor's shoulder align with the mold of his palm. it's a sort of relief he feels that goes without saying— he's lucky to have it. lucky to have anything, right now. he thinks . . . they could talk. they could when they feel like they could. when he's properly eased into the reality of their very sudden rapture to this dreamlike consciousness.
when the avoidance starts bothering jayce more than the inevitable conversation, that's when he'll start hammering the problem out, whether viktor would be ready for it by then or not. but they've got a bit of time, until then. jayce's hand squeezes and lingers, feeling complete in doing so and feeling the swirling nebulae colors feel hot, like a nova beginning to burn from the welcomed contact. ]
Having to do with . . . Wherever here is, [ he gestures with a quick gaze around them, having— the damn silly thought to swing a leg over viktor's to further their entaglement, but that is an escalation he doesn't want to test. it's hard as is, to think about a place this could be. ] I feel it, too. Like some sort of connection.
[ he'll compile a quiet list at the back of his mind in the meantime, sliding his hand down to the middle of viktor's back. once that's settled in one spot, his finger begins to tap and go through the possibilities by rank and "spiritual" connection. ]
Iona?
[ there's another one but please don't make him say it. he's avoiding it. because there is one person that comes to mind and for some reason jayce just seethes at surface level ("some" reason more like he wanted to throw all of viktor's chances at life away even if he has a point but that is not something jayce will just admit nor accept—). ]
[ That's an interesting development. Though Jayce had obviously spent time surrounded by the arcane, feeling it infect his leg and surviving off of animals that were equally infected, Viktor hadn't expected him to have any kind of sensitivity to it, let alone a connection. Perhaps it's further proof that this Jayce is a projection of Viktor's mind, something to keep him company or torture him as he begins an eternity of solitude.
The wide hand that slips down his back, colors gliding over bare skin, makes him shiver. It's an odd sensation, somewhere between static and white noise, felt deeper than just the nerves on the surface. Having Jayce's hand on his back isn't unfamiliar, per se, but it's never been direct contact, always dampened by layers of clothing and his back brace and his metal spine. Even after transforming and stepping out naked as all hell, it hadn't felt like his skin that Jayce was touching, not really. ]
You think we're still on Runeterra? [ He says it with surprise and mild disbelief. It makes sense, if he thinks about it, and yet... for some reason, it strikes him as incorrect. ] Perhaps, similar to a Hexgate without a set termination point... Or it could be an alternate reality.
[ the press of jayce's lips could easily indicate a thought: i hope we're on runeterra, one because it's especially daunting to think they got launched to another planet entirely. a different reality, though— that's more plausible. they've seen it and felt it work. jayce sinks into it with more ease, steadying his touch into a single rub when he isn't exactly rejected from touching but giving the chills. he must be colder than he realizes.
the universe could've done him a favor and sent his jacket, at the very least. viktor would have much better use for it. his arm tries its best, in the mean time. ]
A parallel Runeterra, [ he's only ruminating for now, bobbing his hanging head for a moment. being alive when you had planned on your death meant worrying about the aftermath when he shouldn't have been around for one— was everyone safe? mom, mel, cait? did they manage to contain the arcane, the glorious evolution? if they were indeed alive, in somewhere fantastical, could they every go back? should they?
jayce is rubbing the pronounced bridge of his nose before he happens to stare at his legs, frown, and then add: ]
But none of that explains why I'm still like this.
It makes sense. [ That is to say, they've seen it happen before. Hextech involved science and formulas and machinery to pinpoint a location of travel, the monolithic Hexgates an obvious testament to the fact that a lot of work went into steering the arcane power and focusing it. Though it was possible that the future version of Viktor had been the reason for Jayce traveling to that alternate reality, the wild rune was still involved—and had sent Ekko and Heimerdinger elsewhere.
As Viktor ponders all of this, he leans further and further into Jayce until his shoulder bumps against him. It feels so nice, grounding in a way that doesn't make sense when Jayce is... astral, like a ghost made tangible, and that thought sends unpleasant shivers through his bones. They had intended to die, and as much as he had hoped for Jayce to leave and live on, he'd also been grateful to have someone with him in the end.
An end that, potentially, hadn't really been an end. If Jayce was real and they had been sent somewhere together, Viktor had to take responsibility. ]
That's why my running theory is still that you're not real.
[ jayce can get why, but that doesn't mean he could swallow it clean. frustrated and clearly objecting with his eyes flicking upward without actually saying it, he brings a closed fist over his mouth before unclenching, rubbing his palm across his face and letting his sigh run out deep.
have patience. have patience.
but jayce talis has hardly ever practiced such a thought. one second in and he shakes his head, voice flat and edged in the way jayce would get when his attempts at solving a problem on his own came out begrudgingly unsatisfying, in the way his fingers begin to tap on his wrist and his jaw goes square(r)— especially when he was supposed to be the fixer and things weren't fixing. the metal wasn't bending. ]
Jayce. [ He says it with a heavy drag on the first half, turning the single syllable into two. ] I've always been stubborn. You know this.
[ Still, he doesn't like to make Jayce look like this, so tired with the situation and yet wired to find a solution. He taps on his wrist which had been adorned by a shining blue runestone for longer than Viktor had known him—it makes his stomach turn to remember the last time he'd seen it embedded in the skin. ]
Tell me something I don't know about you. [ It stands to reason that a hallucination of his own mind wouldn't have access to information that Viktor himself didn't know. He wouldn't be able to verify the information, but certain things had to be believable. ] Something I wouldn't think of.
[ he knows this but he'd still wished he could've been a little less galaxy bodied to be at the very least concincing. or mellow viktor's ice cold logic into acceptance. not that . . . it mattered much anymore, right at this second. jayce's frustration has compacted into mushy pile of a hopeless sight that glances upward. all it took was his name, said that way, in that drawl, in a pause he's misses so much that—
how can he stay upset? one look at his and he's warm as tea.
that all gets jayce to go still, absolutely quiet. there were quite a few things viktor didn't know about jayce, even with their minds opened wide and touching the ends of their souls together before the big bang— one thing in particular crawls its way to the forefront of it all, and jayce is found watching his fingers dig into his palms. ]
I never told you about the kid from the Shimmer factory.
[ Viktor leaves Jayce to think in his silence though it feels surprisingly difficult to pull himself away from the fuzzy warmth of his side. Standing and finding he doesn't wobble nor wince nor want for his cane, he tucks this away as further evidence that none of this is real. His body is whole and good, working as it always should have rather than being weighed down by flaws.
There is beauty in imperfections. Shaking his head to clear it, he reaches up to pluck two fig-like fruits from a tree. One plum can't have been enough to satisfy Jayce—even Viktor is still feeling a little empty—and it will give him something for his hands to do other than dig into his own skin.
Returning to their perch on the fountain, he sits as Jayce speaks up. His voice is grave, and for a moment, Viktor feels foolish for offering him the fruit. ] What were you doing in a Shimmer factory?
[ jayce takes a longer time to respond. the breath he lets out with words is a quiet one, and he doesn't meet viktor's gaze. he only raises his shoulders, a brief question at his own whirling descriptions of what he was doing when he'd agreed to do what vi had proposed. ]
. . . Looking for something I could fix.
[ but he just made things worse. per usual. ]
Or to blame, or— [ he sighs out and takes the fruit, if only to occupy the scratching. he doesn't have it in him to take a bit, now, but the pressure between the spaces of his fingers quells the sizzling burn he leaves inside his dull-glow palms. he shakes his head as if no word could carry the weight in his chest. ] I don't know anymore.
[ Rolling the fig between his hands, absentmindedly fascinated by the translucent skin, he listens to Jayce dancing around the heart of the memory. He understands the desire to find something that could be fixed, a nail to be hammered or a bolt to be tightened. They were both problem solvers by nature, whether through careful study or trial-and-error, and Viktor knows how afloat he felt when he lacked a solution—or a problem. ]
You were restless. [ He gravitates closer again, pulled by invisible strings between them. So many times, Jayce had reassured him with a hand on his shoulder, and Viktor mirrors the motion now. Thin fingers dig into the static of Jayce's back, thumb brushing the edge of where a collarbone would be. ] What happened?
[ jayce hadn't looked, but he'd felt it, only shifting further under viktor's grounding touch. the truth is stuck in his throat. it felt like . . . such a meaningful touch to recieive from the other that he couldn't let it slip free from him; jayce set his hand on top viktor's, and soft sparks fly between the connection. ]
We went in to neutralize the factory. Shut it down, to hit Silco where it hurt.
[ and give them a chance to do something about zaun. it was a step closer to coming to a truce, but jayce hadn't known the price, then, that that red-haired ginger boy would haunt every day of his life. ]
There were enemies, so I just . . . Started blasting. Destroying everything, and, [ he gestures, relinquishes his hold on viktor to do so. wordlessly, because the knot in his throat just became an uncomfortable lump. the source of the croak under the shiver of his voice and haunted gaze stuck on the grass their feet rest upon. ] I hit a kid in the middle. He couldn't have been older than twelve.
[ Viktor struggles not to let his focus wander to their hands stacked atop Jayce's shoulder, the gentle warmth of it, the way Jayce's fingers subtly curl around Viktor's to hold on to them. Physical affection has always been so easy for Jayce to dish out, and Viktor is wondering if he should have made more of an effort to return it in those moments when his partner needed support.
Listening to the story certainly serves its purpose; Viktor never would have imagined Jayce doing such things. So much had happened while he'd been unconscious, most of it still a mystery of which he hadn't been able to fill in all of the blanks. Still, Jayce choosing to pursue violence is a shock, and the devastating result of it doubly so. Viktor's hand falls away from Jayce's shoulder to gently cover his mouth to hide his shock. He knows that there was no excuse of questioning why a child had been present in a Shimmer factory, not when so much that happened in Zaun was so easily questioned by the privileged standards of Piltover. Even if he knows that Jayce would have assumed that only adults would have been present, that doesn't absolve him of the guilt. ]
Jayce, I— [ He swallows down a lump in his throat thinking about how there were just as many dead children of Zaun as there were orphans roaming its streets. ] I'm sorry I brought it up, but thank you for telling me.
[ jayce wasn't sure anymore, if it had been all of his frustrations pent into a dangerous bomb, or the easy sway of a devastating power in his hands. that he built. he created, against his better judgement and especially against viktor's. it didn't feel much like violence when there'd been a detachment surrounding who he was attacking— monstrously changed shimmer addicts in sturdy armor, no different than attack dogs. there were hardly any "men" left in them to account for.
so it'd been easy to pull the lever with no remorse. it was easy to swing and shatter their bones. he was doing the right thing. he was protecting all those people looking up to him for reprive from literal monsters, and jayce had a hard time saying no when what he knew how to do best was provide. he could never not pay back what the mage did when he called, and he could've indeed just let him die. the world would have been better off.
he still keeps seeing that child's face, and his gut wrenches when he remembers all of them, the child workers— viktor could've been one of them. ]
—I didn't mean to.
[ it's what he could manage to say, a quiet mutter pressed against a hand propping his face up from a lean into it, his elbow on his leg. when the switch happened, jayce himself was not aware of it: despite a younger appearance with a considerably lesser amount of facial hair, he looks bedraggled. viktor didn't need to apologize for anything. he asked. jayce would give him everything he wanted, within his reach. ]
You were right all along. [ jayce rubs his face, doesn't realize neither question that he no longer sparks or glows, as if he's always been llike this— a tired mass clutching viktor's arm like he'd hold his cane. ] A vision wouldn't tell you that, would it?
I know. [ Even if he hadn't been there, even if he's just hearing about all of this for the first time, the one thing that Viktor knows is that Jayce would never intensionally harm a child. The strain in his voice just solidifies that fact, the obvious weight of guilt in Jayce's tone, the shame in having to share it.
Jayce leans away from him, hides in his hand, and Viktor's chest clenches. His light dims literally to reflect the figurative cloud hanging over him now, and Viktor leans against his side to wrap an arm around his waist. Resting his cheek against Jayce's shoulder, he gently rubs his side with one hand as the other reaches for Jayce's to pull away from his face. ]
A painful but effective solution. [ He doesn't need to say it aloud, but he would never invent a situation like that for Jayce to have experienced during the time they were separated by Viktor's coma. ]
[ his chagrin is obliterated upon a touch that stuns him out of his own immersion, to find viktor comforting him and it's— it certainly feels surreal. was he, perhaps, the one seeing visions this whole time? was this his dream? how terribly cruel, if he could think to consider this a dream at all.
jayce gazes sideways toward viktor until their eyes meet, and once they do, he can't exactly pull them away. he takes a good long look, the nimble fingers prying his hand from his face now at the reception of the curl of jayce's fingers around them. and just . . . settling there. until, upon the surface of both their legs, jayce is cupping the side of viktor's hands into a gentle hold. the last time he held it in any way, he was holding on for dear life.
it feels like it's been so long, since he's seen him this way. it makes jayce painfully nostalgic, and as if . . . he shouldn't take it for granted. not even the mole under his eye, or the one above his lip. his line of vision flutters quickly to burn it to memory, down and up, almost too quick to notice if one weren't also hypervigilint, or staring back, or both. ]
[ The physical affection certainly seems to do the trick in distracting the both of them from the tragic story. Jayce is so warm everywhere they touch, that same dreamy fuzzy quality spreading through points of contact like the feeling of his foot falling asleep, only far more pleasant. Maybe they're sharing a dream together, then, if Jayce is made up of colors that seem to react to his mood and Viktor is in a body of picture-perfect health that he'd never had. It could be a different part of arcane space, one that he'd never found on his own, one shaped by both of them together.
Humming softly, pensive but also absentminded, he turns his hands over in Jayce's to thread their fingers together. The color is returning to him, pinks and oranges like the clouds of a sunrise, maybe showing that he's not so lost in the sorrow, a little more hopeful. When Viktor looks up from their hands, his eyes widen at the way his partner is staring as if... as if memorizing something that he's scared of losing. If they wake up from this dream, Viktor fears losing this feeling, too. So he straightens up a bit, sliding along Jayce's side, so he can get close enough to press his forehead to that glowing warmth of Jayce's, noses bumping slightly, and then—
The plunge back into dark waters. Sinking. Drowning. Sleep. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thread the needle
and then he wakes. not in panic, for some reason, he honestly feels— starlit, still. dreamy. not all there. even his body still warps with the warm colors of the astral plane, but over his face sits a misty mask, nothing solid, nothing he could remove and barely something he could even feel enough to care. the sky looks painted, the trees strike wondrous poses and their bark shimmers like stardust and the night sky. would he count on something as unsupported as an afterlife? absolutely not. but. perhaps whithin the arcane, within an infinite loop of illusions born from their own creativity? (strange, he doesn't thing he'd create any of this, so . . . where on runeterra—?) water trickles into a fountain pool of white marble and the fresh scent of mint, flora and citrus tickles his nose. even with his estranged senses struggling to register every burst of new information, there is only one thing on his mind: ]
Viktor—?
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He'd been vaguely aware of something crashing into his face, more focused on the minds and souls he was absorbing, one in particular. Jayce had been there with him, floating above it all, showing him impossible memories from another's mind. His mind. A different mind. It had been so... confusing. He'd finally become fully evolved, above the need for things like limbs and legs, things that had betrayed him for so long that they were obviously better cast aside. He'd transcended above emotion, too, and other useless things that weren't efficient. Humanity needed efficiency to be useful—that was all that mattered in the end, wasn't it? Not someone's beauty or ambition or brilliance, unless it was aimed at a goal and an outcome. ]
No... [ His fingers tear at the grass, fists clenched tight as he brings them to his face and run into a barrier between hands and eyes. For a second he's filled with sickening relief and dizzying terror to consider he was still the same, The Herald, but his hands...
Leaning back, he looks down at the rest of himself and sees pallid, pale skin everywhere he looks. His modesty—does he have any left?—is protected by a scrap of blue fabric tangled around his waist. Relaxing his hands and letting the grass flutter down around him, he once again touches his face and feels a mask jostle but not lift, his fingers unable to catch the edges like it's made of mercury. His breathing quickens, which is illogical given he may be back in his old, broken, useless body, but— ]
Jayce?
[ He calls back on instinct when he hears his name, recognizing the voice calling to him and turning towards it like a sunflower in search of sunlight. ]
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—I'm here.
[ but it's strange and even if it's obvious, there's a bit of a switch flipped against his reasoning, making it difficult to pinpoint, specifically, where the oddity in this was when they were alive, or at least seemed that way. like being blind to the elephant in the room but aware of the size its taking up.
it doesn't matter; he's also abounding with the kick of adrenaline to really care or even dwell on it for more than a second. jayce's body works before he can register what its doing, like allowing it a mind of its own to get a job done. first: injuries. he looks over viktor clinically but attentive to detail, cautionary and worried but when he sees none— jayce nods his head a few too many times, squeezing viktor's shoulders with the round grip of his fingers. ]
You're alright. We're alright— [ physically speaking.apparently. why he was still a colorful, glowing beacon of his innermost self would have to wait. ]
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You're alright. The words fall on ringing ears. Viktor can't bring himself to move for fear of his body betraying him, once again plagued with a leg that can't support him and lungs that drown him. Fear is irrational at its core and yet, Viktor is terrified about where they are and how, why repeating in his head like a twisted prayer.
Belatedly, he flinches away from Jayce's hands on his shoulders. He'd been so close to hurting him—he denies any killer intent, even now—and had almost wiped away everything about Jayce Talis that he— ]
Alright... [ He echoes it hollowly, shivering and finally lifting his eyes to look around them. Nothing is familiar, but then again, when had he last been fully aware of the physical world? When had his head last been below the clouds and clear of obsession? This could be Piltover and he just doesn't recognize it. ] Where are we?
cw: suicidal ideas and such is jayvik
that, with him assuming that was the end. jayce doesn't know how he's managed to look viktor in the eye, yet. must be the adrenaline. ]
I . . . I don't know, we must've . . . [ teleported, he starts with a hush, but his brain doesn't seem to be keeping up with the barrage of information, neither is it properly assimilating. too much going on. too much he's shifting to without greater awareness, a dent in rationale caused by a rush that only doesn't boil into panic because he still feels disconnect through the priority of endurance. barely.
jayce takes another look around to collect any possible evidence of jarring landmarks, anything he could recognize from books or memory. in the end, either there were none or he's still failing to digest and make sense of what he's seeing. it's just an orchard, with the sky spreading colors like oil paints.
and he's still . . . like this. not that it concerns him yet. he's just glad viktor looks exactly like the day he'd lost him. ]
—Can you stand?
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Why are you wearing that? [ A mask hides his features, and even though Viktor can clearly see Jayce's eyes through the holes that allow him to see, looking at the accessory is unsettling. His gaze keeps trying to slide off of it, down to the mouth left visible, and Viktor raises his hands to feel at his face again. ] Why am I...
[ His hands shake as he lowers them as slowly as he can, careful not to seem as panicked as he feels. He'd been prepared to die, and now he has to live? That hadn't been the plan, if what had happened in the end could be called as such. It was too generous a word for something decided by pregnant silence and heavy looks.
Head hanging again, he shakes it almost imperceptibly. ] I don't think I can, and I... Well, I think I'm naked.
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it's true for the both of them, but only now does jayce's brain bother to register that viktor too, was wearing a mask that wasn't exactly his from before (even if it was an echo of it), when his tissue was of purple matter and metal destinction, assymetrical gold. a godly form and cold, unfeeling eyes that glowed like flared iron behind a mask that split his delicate face in two. he's kind of glad it isn't the case, but— how much of that matters when viktor looks like he may burst into a flurry at any moment? jayce, too. but his senses and logic feel blurred. are blurred. like he wasn't in his own damn body for some reason, which, what the hell—
there are more important things to worry about. he has no coat to speak for, nothing to help viktor cover up as he would've gladly stripped out of his battlecoat for. ]
Makes two of us, I think, [ empty humor, he supposes, doesn't really know what he's saying, stupidly— the best he could do is fix the remains of his . . . blanket, unfurling the cuff of viktor's neck to a fall around his thin shoulders. covering up his chest, his midsection, forcing his eyes up to his face and lingers on the mole above his lip. under his eye. then his eyes, iridescent pools. alive, jittering. full. a swell of relief comes to steal his inhale away from his lungs, but it seizes when he realizes viktor is still miraculously unharmed. hell. how much of this was real? was he real? ] I'll help you up.
[ jayce offers, palms up; they needed to check their surroundings and he was not keen on leaving viktor behind. they'll figure the rest out as they go. ]
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Flinching when hands reach out for him, he mutters an apology once it's obvious that Jayce doesn't intend any harm. There's barely enough of the blanket left to even be considered a blanket, more like scraps, and he watches familiar hands rearrange the fabric around his most private places. Glancing up at Jayce from beneath his eyelashes, he notes that the man isn't looking and huffs a soft, humorless laugh beneath his breath. ]
Sure. [ He prepares to gather his weight beneath himself, left leg curling under his body to take the brunt of the strain and left hand holding his meager covering in place at his hips. His other hand hovers, fingers spreading and then clenching, wanting to touch and know that Jayce was real but hating that he needs to ask for help. He's regressed fully into weak and afraid, no longer in control of his own life. ]
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Together.
[ before he plants his heels and lifts, his other hand soon to shepherd viktor from the small of his back in a testing hover. the weight of their contact is ever present— to their own surprise. jayce feels like a fizzy, heated star at the grip, and viktor, a body at a temperature not unlike quench water at their point of contact. steps are going to come as they can here, but the lack of sudden danger isn't exactly reassuring. jayce feels like he can't trust it (then again, he can't trust much of anything as of late; not even himself).
silence as they try to move forward falls under the same umbrella of disagreeable where his nerves are concerned, and the occasional, encouraging murmurs of that's it and i got you don't actually count, despite jayce wishing for it to fill something. he catches sight of what looks like a running fountain and leads them to the sound of a contained, smallscale cascade. it's not until his particularly bad leg buckles at the knee that jayce staggers with viktor in his arms. a gasped shit resounds and his good leg catches them, at the cost of a much tighter grip, but luckily they are within reach of the pristine marble surface, and crystaline water.
no pain, per se. but the dream echoes his true body, should this one not be it. they take a seat, they look around. well, jayce looks around, an absent hand on top of his thigh and stroking the ghost of muscles pricking. speaking of assumptions, the lull is killing him. jayce decides to break it once he could sit down. you know, the way he always breaks his problems. hammer, nail. ]
Got any theories?
[ it's what they're good at. it's what they could fall into, to figure this out. it's what they could do to ignore the massive fucking elephant in the room doing pirouettes on a circus ball. ]
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Once he's standing, he keeps hold of Jayce's hand to maintain his balance—whether physically or mentally, even he isn't certain which one if not both. He wants to snap back at each encouragement, shut up Jayce wavering on the tip of his tongue, but the silence would be so much worse. It catches him off-guard when Jayce is the one whose leg threatens to fail, and Viktor's grip on him tightens to provide an anchor for him; it would be a pretty poor one, based solely on their differences in body weight, but Jayce is also currently a glowing rainbow, so it's hard to judge if he has body weight. ]
Got you. [ He helps Jayce ease down onto the edge of the fountain and, reluctant to relinquish his hand, pulls back nonetheless. His sorry excuse for clothes needs readjusting, and though at first he doesn't bother to turn around, he has a quick realization and turns his back to Jayce at the last minute. Pulling the scrapes from his neck and chest, he focuses on wrapping them around his hips which won't do much if the temperature starts to drop, but it does much more for his modesty than working with a hope and a prayer. ]
Theories? [ A pensive hum resonates through him as he ties his makeshift skirt in place. Turning around, he looks down at Jayce, at his astral skin and his dark hair and his wide, searching eyes. A flash of memory reminds Viktor of those eyes being narrowed at him with mistrust, with hatred.
Looking away, he tries to focus on their surroundings. ] My running theory is that I'm in some kind of purgatory, and you're a hallucination.
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jayce resists the urge to spin back around, but his attentive profile keeps viktor's blurry frame at the corner of his sight. a hallucination, huh. jayce doesn't not understand, but he might dislike the notion of being unreal. especially when he's as real as he could be. but . . . hell, he's questioned that, too. their manifestations don't match. pulling his lips into his mouth in sharp thought, almost to keep from frowning too hard and suffering creases, jayce speculates: ]
Counterargument, [ just a thought, ] we're alive. Or at least conscious— and still within the Arcane.
[ why would only one of them die? or perhaps, they both did? in their own personal limbo with their own personal hallucination of the other? ]
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It feels uncomfortably familiar to be looking down at Jayce like this, so Viktor takes a seat on the fountain next to him. Strangely enough, he doesn't feel thirsty looking into his waters, yet saliva begins pooling on his tongue when his eyes land on some of the fruit hanging above them. ]
Counter-counterargument. If we're in the Arcane, why do you look like that but I look like this? [ He nods first to Jayce, and then down at himself. There aren't any bruises or indentations on his skin from years of wearing a leg brace, none of the runes he had carved into himself, and if he bends an arm behind him, he can't feel any of the rods implanted in his spine. ]
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Rebuttal, [ it's so easy to fall back on this. admittedly, it feels like home. it feels like what they should have been doing all those times either were absent from each other. jayce shakes the thought off like a pelt to continue, ] why not? There's no known constraint preventing it.
[ it's almost incredulous to think that he should be eating at a time like this, but jayce doesn't think when he reaches up and snaps off the first sphere he could grasp. it's an automatic response that seizes him, an innate fear embedded in his bones and deep in his stomach that the possibility of being without would follow wherever he'd go. ]
Our functions seem . . . intact. And, [ something . . . pokes in, call it jayce's arrogance, or confidence, or the fact that he simply knows, but he flips a colorful bulb stuck between wanting to be some sort of orange or pear in his hand, half to test his reflexes and half as a show of himself: ] for a hallucination, I'm making a compelling argument.
[ which hallucinations could never replicate. him? his brain? no. the same goes for viktor. the fact that he's questioning anything at all makes his shoulders relax from a tension pulled taut.
on some level, this is real. he nearly bites into the fruit with ravenous intent before it dawns on him that he hasn't thought to share. mid bite, and apologetically, he reaches for another and hands it to viktor.
force of habit, and not one he's exactly proud of. ]
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There are too many questions swirling through his head and deeper in his heart, things he doesn't want to acknowledge for fear of their weight crushing him should they be brought to the surface. He can remember their last moments, or what he'd thought would be their last moments, with such frightening clarity and yet everything between that and now feels like a forgotten dream. There had been water, waves, words, but the memory of them escape like smoke between his grasping fingers.
It's easier just to... be. Not thinking about the past or the future, just focusing on whatever is in front of him which is Jayce, primarily, and fruit, secondarily. Watching him hesitate before that first bite, like a dog remembering it's been domesticated when faced with a juicy steak, makes Viktor's chest tighten with sadness. Knowing now what he faced in that alternate reality, the starvation and agony and fear—he'll never fault him for falling on food like a wild beast. ]
Refutation. [ He takes the offered fruit and rubs his thumb over the soft, warm skin. ] A high caliber mind like mine would could easily argue with itself. I've done it since I was a child.
[ Dunking the fruit—a plum? a peach?—into the fountain, he gives it a cursory clean before withdrawing it and shaking it dry. The remaining moisture beads on the smooth surface, teardrops running over the skin and falling onto his thighs. He should be more cautious about the potential for it to be poisonous, yet the neat rows of trees, manicured grounds, and fountain suggest that this has been cultivates with a purpose. Besides, if he's already dead, what harm would a little poison do?
The first bite floods his mouth with juice, drawing a surprised sound from him as he leans forward out of instinct not to drip onto nonexistent clothes. ]
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he's still listening, despite the insistent slurping. ]
Okay, [ he retorts, but not letting that signal defeat in his own guesswork. just emphasis on continuation. unfortunately, jayce does this without pausing to actually chew his food. he's actually barely chewing at all, pieces of mush being swallowed in an instant and a warm pool hitting his belly. ] if you're the arcane space expert, then lets rule it out. Right here.
[ his fingers are twitching on the curve of the fruit's skin. it feels like . . . he's living a dream, that thisn't real, yes. that he's going through motions that don't feel like his but are, like he's doing them and watching them all at once. disturbing, really. but jayce refuses to think this isn't real, that he isn't real in viktor's eyes or that viktor isn't realy either, or that he's alive and jayce is some sort of spacial phantom (was that worse somehow? that viktor waas alive and jayce was . . . haunting him? augh. morbid. makes him nervous among other things. it makes his fingers from one hand tap relentlessly on his kneecap, holding his fruit in the other. he wouldn't be eating if he were a ghost. they wouldn't. would they? refute that. ]
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When he's finished, he has a soft blush to his skin and his fingertips are stained with the purple juices. Licking them clean as he looks up into the branches above him, he hums pensively. ]
Physical appearances aside, I never felt hunger. The space around me was always celestial unless I was... looking through someone's memories. [ He's hesitant to admit it, to bring up the fact that he'd been in the heads of so many people, even if he'd only ever meant to help. For a while, he had helped Vander, and maybe that had lulled him into a sense of self-righteousness. ] And I could do anything.
[ With this, he raises a hand and feels... surprisingly, not nothing. There's no arcane energy flowing through him, nothing materializes despite his efforts, but there is an undercurrent still there that terrifies him. Quick to drop his hand, he dips it into the cool waters of the fountain to rinse it clean. ]
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jayce is sucking on the messy tips of his fingers by now, at least until they don't feel so . . . sloppy, not that he cares. much. his first instinct is to wipe on the top of his thigh but there's literally nothing there to really dry himself off other than a strange, dusty static of his own glamor. he follows viktor's lead to wash his hands in the dip of the fountain, flicking the lingering droplets off as he listens and drapes his gaze sideways on viktor's rosey profile. good look on you, he thinks.
something about that last part feels melancholic. jayce thinks he could understand, but not understand.
his hand curls, unfurls— before jayce felt it right to raise it over viktor's back instead of letting it hover, placing it upon his opposite shoulder. his palm is fizzy, warm, like sparkling cider and embers flaring at the tail end of fireworks. it felt right. felt especially good, like he hadn't done it in such a long while . . . well. sans the astral plane. ]
You're saying you can't, now?
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Fingers clench beneath the surface of the water, and when he withdraws his hand, he watches the droplets run down the back and between his knuckles to fall once again into the fountain.
The touch on his shoulder is met with a flinch at first and then an instinctual melt into the familiar weight of Jayce's hand. It doesn't feel like skin touching skin, more like the dream of physical connection, far from the reassurance that he'd subconsciously hoped for that Jayce was, in fact, real. Maybe he was here just to remind Viktor of his transgressions, a phantom to keep him in check so that history wouldn't repeat itself wherever it is that he's ended up. ]
No, I don't think so. [ He hesitates to continue, but if he's just talking to himself, Jayce will already had suspected what he's about to say. ] There is something I can't describe, not the arcane but... similar.
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when the avoidance starts bothering jayce more than the inevitable conversation, that's when he'll start hammering the problem out, whether viktor would be ready for it by then or not. but they've got a bit of time, until then. jayce's hand squeezes and lingers, feeling complete in doing so and feeling the swirling nebulae colors feel hot, like a nova beginning to burn from the welcomed contact. ]
Having to do with . . . Wherever here is, [ he gestures with a quick gaze around them, having— the damn silly thought to swing a leg over viktor's to further their entaglement, but that is an escalation he doesn't want to test. it's hard as is, to think about a place this could be. ] I feel it, too. Like some sort of connection.
[ he'll compile a quiet list at the back of his mind in the meantime, sliding his hand down to the middle of viktor's back. once that's settled in one spot, his finger begins to tap and go through the possibilities by rank and "spiritual" connection. ]
Iona?
[ there's another one but please don't make him say it. he's avoiding it. because there is one person that comes to mind and for some reason jayce just seethes at surface level ("some" reason more like he wanted to throw all of viktor's chances at life away even if he has a point but that is not something jayce will just admit nor accept—). ]
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The wide hand that slips down his back, colors gliding over bare skin, makes him shiver. It's an odd sensation, somewhere between static and white noise, felt deeper than just the nerves on the surface. Having Jayce's hand on his back isn't unfamiliar, per se, but it's never been direct contact, always dampened by layers of clothing and his back brace and his metal spine. Even after transforming and stepping out naked as all hell, it hadn't felt like his skin that Jayce was touching, not really. ]
You think we're still on Runeterra? [ He says it with surprise and mild disbelief. It makes sense, if he thinks about it, and yet... for some reason, it strikes him as incorrect. ] Perhaps, similar to a Hexgate without a set termination point... Or it could be an alternate reality.
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the universe could've done him a favor and sent his jacket, at the very least. viktor would have much better use for it. his arm tries its best, in the mean time. ]
A parallel Runeterra, [ he's only ruminating for now, bobbing his hanging head for a moment. being alive when you had planned on your death meant worrying about the aftermath when he shouldn't have been around for one— was everyone safe? mom, mel, cait? did they manage to contain the arcane, the glorious evolution? if they were indeed alive, in somewhere fantastical, could they every go back? should they?
jayce is rubbing the pronounced bridge of his nose before he happens to stare at his legs, frown, and then add: ]
But none of that explains why I'm still like this.
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As Viktor ponders all of this, he leans further and further into Jayce until his shoulder bumps against him. It feels so nice, grounding in a way that doesn't make sense when Jayce is... astral, like a ghost made tangible, and that thought sends unpleasant shivers through his bones. They had intended to die, and as much as he had hoped for Jayce to leave and live on, he'd also been grateful to have someone with him in the end.
An end that, potentially, hadn't really been an end. If Jayce was real and they had been sent somewhere together, Viktor had to take responsibility. ]
That's why my running theory is still that you're not real.
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have patience. have patience.
but jayce talis has hardly ever practiced such a thought. one second in and he shakes his head, voice flat and edged in the way jayce would get when his attempts at solving a problem on his own came out begrudgingly unsatisfying, in the way his fingers begin to tap on his wrist and his jaw goes square(r)— especially when he was supposed to be the fixer and things weren't fixing. the metal wasn't bending. ]
You picked a damn good time to be stubborn, Vik.
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[ Still, he doesn't like to make Jayce look like this, so tired with the situation and yet wired to find a solution. He taps on his wrist which had been adorned by a shining blue runestone for longer than Viktor had known him—it makes his stomach turn to remember the last time he'd seen it embedded in the skin. ]
Tell me something I don't know about you. [ It stands to reason that a hallucination of his own mind wouldn't have access to information that Viktor himself didn't know. He wouldn't be able to verify the information, but certain things had to be believable. ] Something I wouldn't think of.
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how can he stay upset? one look at his and he's warm as tea.
that all gets jayce to go still, absolutely quiet. there were quite a few things viktor didn't know about jayce, even with their minds opened wide and touching the ends of their souls together before the big bang— one thing in particular crawls its way to the forefront of it all, and jayce is found watching his fingers dig into his palms. ]
I never told you about the kid from the Shimmer factory.
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There is beauty in imperfections. Shaking his head to clear it, he reaches up to pluck two fig-like fruits from a tree. One plum can't have been enough to satisfy Jayce—even Viktor is still feeling a little empty—and it will give him something for his hands to do other than dig into his own skin.
Returning to their perch on the fountain, he sits as Jayce speaks up. His voice is grave, and for a moment, Viktor feels foolish for offering him the fruit. ] What were you doing in a Shimmer factory?
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. . . Looking for something I could fix.
[ but he just made things worse. per usual. ]
Or to blame, or— [ he sighs out and takes the fruit, if only to occupy the scratching. he doesn't have it in him to take a bit, now, but the pressure between the spaces of his fingers quells the sizzling burn he leaves inside his dull-glow palms. he shakes his head as if no word could carry the weight in his chest. ] I don't know anymore.
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You were restless. [ He gravitates closer again, pulled by invisible strings between them. So many times, Jayce had reassured him with a hand on his shoulder, and Viktor mirrors the motion now. Thin fingers dig into the static of Jayce's back, thumb brushing the edge of where a collarbone would be. ] What happened?
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We went in to neutralize the factory. Shut it down, to hit Silco where it hurt.
[ and give them a chance to do something about zaun. it was a step closer to coming to a truce, but jayce hadn't known the price, then, that that red-haired ginger boy would haunt every day of his life. ]
There were enemies, so I just . . . Started blasting. Destroying everything, and, [ he gestures, relinquishes his hold on viktor to do so. wordlessly, because the knot in his throat just became an uncomfortable lump. the source of the croak under the shiver of his voice and haunted gaze stuck on the grass their feet rest upon. ] I hit a kid in the middle. He couldn't have been older than twelve.
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Listening to the story certainly serves its purpose; Viktor never would have imagined Jayce doing such things. So much had happened while he'd been unconscious, most of it still a mystery of which he hadn't been able to fill in all of the blanks. Still, Jayce choosing to pursue violence is a shock, and the devastating result of it doubly so. Viktor's hand falls away from Jayce's shoulder to gently cover his mouth to hide his shock. He knows that there was no excuse of questioning why a child had been present in a Shimmer factory, not when so much that happened in Zaun was so easily questioned by the privileged standards of Piltover. Even if he knows that Jayce would have assumed that only adults would have been present, that doesn't absolve him of the guilt. ]
Jayce, I— [ He swallows down a lump in his throat thinking about how there were just as many dead children of Zaun as there were orphans roaming its streets. ] I'm sorry I brought it up, but thank you for telling me.
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so it'd been easy to pull the lever with no remorse. it was easy to swing and shatter their bones. he was doing the right thing. he was protecting all those people looking up to him for reprive from literal monsters, and jayce had a hard time saying no when what he knew how to do best was provide. he could never not pay back what the mage did when he called, and he could've indeed just let him die. the world would have been better off.
he still keeps seeing that child's face, and his gut wrenches when he remembers all of them, the child workers— viktor could've been one of them. ]
—I didn't mean to.
[ it's what he could manage to say, a quiet mutter pressed against a hand propping his face up from a lean into it, his elbow on his leg. when the switch happened, jayce himself was not aware of it: despite a younger appearance with a considerably lesser amount of facial hair, he looks bedraggled. viktor didn't need to apologize for anything. he asked. jayce would give him everything he wanted, within his reach. ]
You were right all along. [ jayce rubs his face, doesn't realize neither question that he no longer sparks or glows, as if he's always been llike this— a tired mass clutching viktor's arm like he'd hold his cane. ] A vision wouldn't tell you that, would it?
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Jayce leans away from him, hides in his hand, and Viktor's chest clenches. His light dims literally to reflect the figurative cloud hanging over him now, and Viktor leans against his side to wrap an arm around his waist. Resting his cheek against Jayce's shoulder, he gently rubs his side with one hand as the other reaches for Jayce's to pull away from his face. ]
A painful but effective solution. [ He doesn't need to say it aloud, but he would never invent a situation like that for Jayce to have experienced during the time they were separated by Viktor's coma. ]
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jayce gazes sideways toward viktor until their eyes meet, and once they do, he can't exactly pull them away. he takes a good long look, the nimble fingers prying his hand from his face now at the reception of the curl of jayce's fingers around them. and just . . . settling there. until, upon the surface of both their legs, jayce is cupping the side of viktor's hands into a gentle hold. the last time he held it in any way, he was holding on for dear life.
it feels like it's been so long, since he's seen him this way. it makes jayce painfully nostalgic, and as if . . . he shouldn't take it for granted. not even the mole under his eye, or the one above his lip. his line of vision flutters quickly to burn it to memory, down and up, almost too quick to notice if one weren't also hypervigilint, or staring back, or both. ]
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Humming softly, pensive but also absentminded, he turns his hands over in Jayce's to thread their fingers together. The color is returning to him, pinks and oranges like the clouds of a sunrise, maybe showing that he's not so lost in the sorrow, a little more hopeful. When Viktor looks up from their hands, his eyes widen at the way his partner is staring as if... as if memorizing something that he's scared of losing. If they wake up from this dream, Viktor fears losing this feeling, too. So he straightens up a bit, sliding along Jayce's side, so he can get close enough to press his forehead to that glowing warmth of Jayce's, noses bumping slightly, and then—
The plunge back into dark waters. Sinking. Drowning. Sleep. ]