#arcanacontained: jayce

[recursiveimpulse]

[  ACCIDENTAL BRUSH  ]  *  my muse touches your muse ( somewhere intimate ) on accident.

From Jayce

“A little close, don’t you think,” says Viktor mildly, glancing down at the hand much too far up his thigh. He knows Jayce only meant to clap him on the knee and misjudged. He also knows that Jayce will be mortified, which is perhaps the only reason Viktor finds himself… relatively unbothered, visibly trying not to laugh as he watches the realisation set in on Jayce’s face.

He can’t help it: he cracks, laughing behind his hand as Jayce snatches his own hand back like he’s just committed a crime. “It’s fine!”

[recursiveimpulse]

[  CLOSER  ]  *  my muse comes closer, invading more of your muses personal space.

From Jayce

Viktor is so used to Jayce's closeness these days that he usually doesn't really notice it; they've spent enough days and nights huddled at the same workbench or notebook or chalkboard together now that being shoulder to shoulder is nothing to him now. Jayce is much more--how to put it--effusive in his friendship, and Viktor's become accustomed to that, too.

Which is why it's all the stranger that when Jayce leans down to speak in his ear, his lips just shy of brushing Viktor's skin, Viktor's body reacts like he's suddenly started running a marathon. His heartrate quickens; his breath gets stuck somewhere in his chest. The back of his neck starts to burn as if he's been caught doing something embarrassing, which is baffling--it's just Jayce, for fuck's sake.

Viktor clears his throat. "Hang on, I can't hear you over the..." He leans away to turn off the delicate machinery he's working on, putting space between them, then swivels in his chair to face Jayce directly. His expression betrays some of his nerves, his hands fidgeting the moment they're unoccupied. "What were you saying?"

[recursiveimpulse]

"Why are you trying to be invisible?" Jayce nudged Viktor and held out a mug of coffee for his partner. 'You know I can be a sounding board to vent at if you want.' He sat down on the sofa and patted the seat next to him. The councillor gave a warm smile.

Viktor shrugged dismissively, a gesture that usually meant eh, one of those days. But he took the coffee and eased himself down to sit, propping his crutch against the arm of the sofa. “I like being invisible. Better than being in the spotlight, I think.” He cast a sideways smile at Jayce, warmth in his eyes. “Don’t you have enough people coming to you with their problems, these days?”

[formshaper]

'Are you still happy? With me, I mean. With us?' Jayce blurted out, tipsy again.

"Yyy...es? Obviously," Viktor laughed, swaying to the side to gently knock their shoulders together as they walked. He was in a good mood, lightly buzzed from something sweet and honey-coloured that warmed the back of his throat when he drank it. He’d have to remember to ask Jayce what it was: it had been the highlight of the night, for him. He hadn’t joined the party proper, preferring to remain behind the scenes no matter how much Jayce pleaded with him to join him, but he’d crept in towards the end of the night to make an excuse for Jayce to leave and had been treated to a drink for his trouble. It even dulled the pain in his leg enough that he’d protested Jayce’s idea to take a carriage home: he wanted to walk.

Now as they strolled home together, Viktor felt… content. The moon was high above them, a sharp crescent watching over the two. Viktor kept looking at it, and at the stars. Even years after he’d left home and after many, many nights gazing at the stars from his favourite tower, it still felt unreal to be able to see the night sky properly. To look at the stars whenever he wanted and to do it from above, instead of creeping to the river at night and hoping to catch a glimpse of the moon through the smog.

“Jayce,” said Viktor, attempting to affect seriousness. It wasn’t working: he was smiling too much. “I have never been more happy. With you, with this, with us. Everything is fine. It’s good.”

He looped his free arm through Jayce’s. It made walking with the cane a little less steady, but it was worth it to lean on him: Jayce was warm, and he smelled of something smoky that Viktor couldn’t put a name to. He had the inane urge to stop and demand that Jayce bend down to let him sniff him, but even tipsy, he wasn’t that foolish.

“You worry too much,” he told him, conversationally. His head was nearly against Jayce’s shoulder, and might have been if it wouldn’t have set him entirely off-balance. “I am happy. I hope you are happy also.”

[formshaper]

[ teach ]  your muse taking control of mine’s hand , arm , hips , etc . to make sure they do something correctly .  

Jayce could see that Viktor's new leg brace and seem to have been overtightened by the Piltover medical staff who were external to the Academy.

'Hey Viktor, would you like some help readjusting your brace?' His voice soft as Viktor subconscious movement placed his toes pointed towards the air. Had they used a standard wrench until everything was so tight that it pinched at the clothing and Jayce assumed his partner's leg? He guided Viktor to the sofa, broad hands hovered over his hips. Gentle, he lifted Viktor's leg under the knee and placed it down on the footlocker as it doubled as a footstool.

It hurt. He'd been told that it wouldn't, that it would just feel 'uncomfortable' until he got used to it - but then, doctors had said that about a great many things before. Perhaps he should have expected it, he thought bitterly, shouldering the door to the laboratory open. The same way he should have expected that his relatively good health wouldn't last forever: that his body would start failing him more than it already had sooner or later, and he would find himself no longer able to make it through the day with the help of a simple cane and a painkiller or two. It wasn't helpful to think like that, he knew. Pessimism and self-pity wouldn't fix him.

Nodding vaguely when Jayce spoke, he allowed himself to be guided with strong, sure hands to the sofa. There was a quiet pit of shame in his belly that shouldn’t have been there. He ignored it in favour of letting Jayce help: there was no one else he could trust to do so.

Watching Jayce examine his leg, Viktor could see now what Jayce had seen: the brace was too tight, pinching at the trouser leg underneath. He hadn’t been overreacting. It wasn’t going to hurt like this forever. Relief swept through him in a sick wave, and he ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, eyes flicking to Jayce’s concentrated expression. He could tell that Jayce was evaluating the brace, figuring out where to loosen it, what he could and couldn’t adjust.

“Thank you,” said Viktor tiredly. He looked at the crutch resting beside him against the sofa arm, then away. He found himself very aware of Jayce and the little space between them; of Jayce’s hands on him; of how quiet the room was. “It’s been… I don’t know. Long day. You’d think they would have fitted it properly. If you weren’t here I would have just… endured it.”

[formshaper]

Bleary eyed, Jayce wandered into the lab as he half-hearhed to a swig from his usually concealed hip flask. The whisky wasn't going to be enough for the council to scrub every word of the potential scandal that brewed under the surface. Without even an acknowledgement of his surroundings, Talis made a sluggish beeline for the empty sofa and half flopped onto it, legs still dangled off the end of the bed. He didn't have the energy to move or remove his boots to get onto the couch properly. With a groan, he faceplanted the duvet. He felt sleep deprived but unable to catch up wink. Jayce let out a grumble as the open flask slipped out of his hand and onto the floor. He didn't move from his current position.

Viktor’s head turned slightly on instinct when he heard the lab door open, but there was no need to check who it was. He knew from the footsteps; the breathing; the sigh Jayce made after taking a swig. The lack of a greeting meant that either something had gone wrong or that Jayce was simply too exhausted to speak yet. Viktor understood. He didn’t push it.

Listening to the sounds of Jayce flopping onto the couch, he turned from his notes just as the flask dropped to the floor. It rolled slightly, amber liquid dripping from it.

“Jayce that’s going to—it’s spilling,” he frowned, but without any real urgency. They’d had worse spills. He crossed the room, kneeling down on his good leg to pick the flask up. He didn’t need to sniff its contents to know what they were: the distinctive smell of whiskey rose up from the hardwood, and he understood that it must have been one of those meetings. Not for the first time, he was glad not to have attended.

Still half-kneeling, he gripped his cane to push himself back up and looked down at Jayce with fond pity. He screwed the flask closed and set it aside, just out of Jayce’s reach, then perched himself on the end of the bed just by Jayce’s legs. He propped his cane up, glad to have his hands free. The spillage could wait.

“Difficult day?” A gentle tap to Jayce’s knee to warn him, then he lifted the leg into his lap—the weight mostly distributed over his good knee—and began to gently pry off Jayce’s boot. It felt second nature. A small repayment for the countless times Jayce had found him in that same position and put a blanket over him, or set a mug of something warm on the side table. “I see we’ve resorted to self-medication…”

[formshaper]

Jayce hummed as he remade the sofa bed in the corner of the lab, he had replacing the old duvet with a weighted one in the hope it would provide Viktor with better quality sleep. He noticed his partner had become more fatigued, and he pushed him self to his limits and burnt the candle from both ends. Plus as the winter months approached the extra quilted layer on the underside of the weighted duvet would provide a better softness than just wool blankets alone. Meticulous, he tongue poked out in concentration, he tucked in the corners and fluffed up the pillows whilst he ensured the memory foam layer was still intact before he slipped on a fresh set of hypoallergenic pillowcases onto them. Satisfied with his work he brushed down the new duvet to remove any creases which fell away with ease. Talis sighed, a small smile as he turned back to his desk and grabbed the coffee pot, he swished lukewarm coffee around his mouth. They needed a better way to brew coffee than an everyday machine. The pair could use the Hexclaw again, but they would need something more sustainable and efficient in the long-term.

Unbeknownst to Jayce, there were keen eyes watching him work: Viktor, leaning to one side in the half-closed doorway, head tilted and mouth ever so slightly quirked at the corners. It wasn't like him to skulk in secret like this, but watching Jayce fascinated him. He'd never met someone so determined to do everything he could to please others even when there was no pressing need for it. The bedding had been fine as it was, he thought--but then, Jayce was like him. If an improvement could be made somewhere, he'd make it.

He thought about that as he watched Jayce move back to his desk, and the coffee that rested there. There was an improvement Viktor had wanted to make. The idea had been spinning in his head on and off for weeks but always came second to other, more pressing issues. Well. If Jayce could prioritise blankets for him, Viktor could prioritise something more efficient--and more effective--for making coffee than a machine one could find almost everywhere in the Academy, or the Hexclaw, which was hardly intended for it and tended to char the coffee more than brew it.

As quietly as he could, leaning mostly on his good side to dampen the tell-tale clink of his cane when it touched the floor, Viktor withdrew from the laboratory. Part of him wanted to go back inside, thank Jayce now, but a simple thank you wasn't enough. He had to do something in return. A gesture, to match Jayce's endless ones.

Perhaps the best coffee of his life would suffice--if only he could, very quickly, figure out a plan for how to make one, how to acquire the exact parts he'd need, how to keep it from anyone (Heimerdinger) that might be displeased with his technical misuse of Academy funds, and--most crucially--how to keep Jayce from figuring out what he was doing before it was done.

[formshaper]

Jayce knocked, a light rasp, on the open lab door as a first year student fired questions at Viktor. At Talis' knock, the student whirled around and hurried out of the lab with bundle of notebooks in her arms. He leant against the door, a smirk played on his lips. 'I would be "fine, as a marriage candidate". Is there something need you need to tell me Viktor?' He pulled himself off the door and entered the lab.

Viktor had never craved death so suddenly and overwhelmingly in his life. It shouldn’t have been embarrassing—it was a mental exercise and nothing more, that would be his argument—but it was. Terribly. He shot a glare at the smirking figure in the doorway, the back of his neck burning, but it was hard not to smile despite himself. Jayce had that effect.

“That I’ve been wondering on how best to propose to you should it ever become our wisest course of action? Yes, you’ve caught me,” he deadpanned. But his eyes skittered sideways like they often did when he was nervous or embarrassed, and he found himself fidgeting with the handle of his cane, irritated at the student for asking stupid questions and even more irritated with himself for answering them.

“…How much of that did you hear, exactly?” He wasn’t panicking. He wasn’t. It was absurd to think that this hypothetical would interfere in their friendship in any way. “Because my logic, I think, was sound. I couldn’t exactly kill you.” He scowled up at Jayce, daring him to argue—or perhaps just daring him to keep looking so damn smug about it all.