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@vestniikarchive
VESTNIIK / вестник. ; viktor --- THE MACHINE HERALD --- from league of legends / arcane.
dashboard-only. // this blog welcomes crossovers, alternate universes, original characters, multimuses, and canon-divergent muses. // mun is 23, blog is 18+, semi-selective, and will feature triggering content and spoilers.
RULES + BIO (wip) + PERMENANT INTERACTION CALL + DYNAMICS FORM
hi! i’m restarting viktor up on a new blog, same url. @vestniik if you want to follow. okay byyyye
been silent the past few weeks but i’m putting this blog on a temp. hiatus just because my viktor muse is nonexistent right now. i’ll be over on @tachlit for the time being. don’t worry, i hope to be back soon. 💕
i’m sorry i haven’t been around much these last few days -- not only am i in the middle of some dune brainrot, but i’m on new meds and still getting used to them. i plan to be on here later this week though, but if you wanna interact with some of my other muses, you can find me on @tachlit
e.e. cummings, “my mind is” (excerpts from Tulips), Complete Poems: 1904-1962
[Text ID: “nevertheless i feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am becoming something a little different,in fact myself]
Oil study by Liza Sivakova
@vestniik / plotted starter.
man on a wire . . . it’s a thin line to walk , the crossroads between two buildings of fractured glass. another failed experiment that beckons a flare of solitude , a chime in the formation of a wake up call that presents itself upon the wings of a fallen angel. he can’t hear viktor’s voice , everything disappears. chalk upon board splinters unto dust beneath grip at it’s return ; the drip of the IV. he knows it’s just a memory now , engraved within his brain. constant , alike a ticking clock. seconds where he can’t breathe.
he isn’t a stranger to death. if anything , he knows it too well – has seen it in a mirage of dithered hues ; the ringing of a phone , sorrow detached from grey clouds that obscured his mother’s face till her gaze grew frail , felt in the frigid cold that cotton & wool could never protect against as his mother fell alike a stone unto the snow. but even so . . . he still feels unprepared now.
it had only been days since viktor was released , but the doctor’s words are still there ; the tone in which he explained viktor’s condition – that pitiful stare , the sigh of resignation that met his desperation – his ignorance when told there was nothing else for them to do as a time frame was set instead. & so grief began to claw at his chest , in search of his heart.
the forge brought him null clarity ; night after night when even holding viktor close began to feel like an acceptance of a fate he’d rather stay buried in the confines of that hospital. it’s not something he is able to accept , nor something he ever wants to have to. he loves him so much that he’d curse at the sky if that’d bring the heavens to open up & hear his cries. to face the reaper head on , with venom in his eyes as he fought to keep delicate belief that he can save him.
though that stronghold of confidence , that constant hope seems to crumble now. it’s why he begins to shake. fingers clenched unto fists ; stained within the residue of chalk. jaw tightening , a sharp intake of breath – a few steps that turn into a mantra as he paces momentarily. fingers running through hair to pull at strands , numbers running through mind but everything turns up the same – everything says that he will fail.
a fist against board , a hopeless debrief of anger that dissipates as soon as it swelters to be replaced by sorrow. a repetition of no’s strung together ; those within his mind that slowly become audible , that follow his movement till he’s sitting within his chair ; till he’s shifting , uncomfortable again & again with the resolute truth. that viktor will – no. he can’t. he can’t lose him – he won’t.
“ there must be something i’m missing. something i – we haven’t seen yet. if I just try something different ; if I just rewrite the formula , alter the ruins another time or – there’s something we haven’t tried yet , there must be – i’m going to figure it out. we have time. ”
death has followed him like an old friend awaiting reunion; perhaps when he was a child he never noticed it except in the pitying glances of other children, perhaps as he grew older he was able to ignore its presence in his shadow, but now there is no denying that chill that enters his bones, hollows out and makes home where strength once lay. viktor isn’t a fool: all too aware is he of his own mortality -- that crimson spilling from mouth unto clothe cannot be ignored. subconsciously he thinks that he’s already done his own grieving. there’s not much fight left in him, the acceptance something that he has forced upon himself. he’s always been prepared to die, and while he had never thought it would be so soon, he thinks cynically of how fitting it all is. the perfect ending to his nameless tragedy. no, viktor does not worry anymore about himself or failing body. it’s jayce he worries for, regrets his feeble attempts to prepare partner for the inevitable. how many times had he attempted to bring conversation up only for it to so easily be redirected? danced around, waved off like some sort of afterthought, a topic for another time -- but now there is no other time. how selfish you’ve been, his mind hisses, to involve yourself so deeply in his life when you knew what would happen. you’ve done nothing but cause more pain. you never should have admitted anything or allowed this to go as far as it did. a shake of his head. selfish, yes; but even now he knows he’d do nothing differently. despite the insistence of both doctor and jayce to rest, viktor finds himself once again in the lab that almost became his passing place. sitting upon a chair, leaned forward against crutch, he can’t help but look throughout the room, the mess of papers and equipment, both successful and failed experiments; how many days had he spent behind these four walls? how many hours? and for what? the threat for hextech to be used in weaponry against zaun; the constant roadblocks put up by professor heimerdinger; the research he promised himself to be used for the improvement of the undercity -- only to still be greedily locked away from them. what had he achieved? nothing.
he jumps at the sound of jayce’s fists against chalkboard, remains silent at his plea / his begging. the body aches, but the heart agonizes from the sound of desperation in lover’s voice. even now he remains so stubbornly hopeful in the face of the unavoidable. what will he do when he’s gone? viktor hopes, wishes with all his heart despite the way it hurts, for him to be forgotten; for their shared memories to become nothing more than a fading dream. mercy: to replace mourning with forgetting. ❝jayce.❞ almost does he cringe at how weak voice still sounds, but that would require energy he lacks, ❝the outcome will be the same no matter what you do. i think it would be best if you let this go.❞ let me go.
@rottnking said ; " I know it's early , but I have to show you something. " it's a cover-up formed in the rush of syllables as he leads his husband to a spot now designated as theirs. gears that shift within the clock-tower , an almost harmonic melody that intertwines till the steady metronome of their footsteps taken in the early hours. jayce wouldn't be against watching the sunrise , it's just -- an after thought , something that could be viewed as an addition for plans he'd already set within motion. though , null prior warning is given as pace slows suddenly ; a hand moves to cover viktor's eyes , while the other is placed upon his back ; guiding them further into the area. the implication of a surprise spoken without words. the once bare inner workings of the clock now , instead , filled with streamers & balloons ; a picnic set within the center filled with assorted pastries for breakfast. a box within a shade distinctly reminiscent of hextech placed upon blanket. a lingering kiss is placed upon cheek as his hand drops to reveal the scene before them. " part one -- " a step taken astray , finding hidden bouquet to offer with sheepish smile , moving back unto his partner's orbit. " of . . . many more - I sort of lost count , probably went a bit overboard. " softened chuckle. " so . . . it's only fair I let you know now , but -- just about everyone in the city may -- probably -- most definitely knows it's your birthday. " lilt of tone , shoulders shrugging. " but -- in my defense . . . " fingers brush against cheek , eyes filled with adoration. " I wanted to make today perfect for you. " viktor’s birthday ; no longer accepting.
slurred grumbling leaves still sleepy throat, though he makes no further attempt to argue against jayce’s sudden wishes, mind still stirring from state of sleep. their passage is a blur, the only thing he registers the warmth of jayce’s hand, something he grips tighter, that promised sign of stability. in the back of his mind, he knows he’s forgetting something; the thought itches forwards, whispers that he should be more suspicious of whatever it is husband has planned, but he’s far too lost in the feeling of being close to him to pay it too much mind. ❝mm, what are you...?❞ mumbled question, though he doesn’t bother to finish it, knowing that he won’t get a verbal answer. he closes his eyes despite already being unable to see, allows himself to be blindly guided. it’s not something he would normally allow anyone to do, to take control of his movement in such a way; but it’s jayce, it’s his husband, and he trusts him immensely. he’s awake now, sleep no longer clinging to him, and the whispered thought comes to the forefront of his mind: it’s his birthday. never does he place any importance on such a date. he deems celebration unnecessary to the point of not even telling others; in fact, he remembers jayce not being aware of his birthday until two years after they had first became partners. such a stark contrast to the scene that lies before him, and he can’t help but wonder how he managed to capture the heart of someone so incredible. adoration colors hazel eyes clearly upon opening as he watches jayce approach with bouquet, a gift he takes carefully, looking over flowers as if they are the first he has ever seen. how lover is able to paint even the simplest of life’s creations in new light. ❝jayce... you shouldn’t have. really, isn’t this too much?❞ but the pleased tone in his voice is the least bit hidden. part of him thinks that it should feel panicked at the idea of everyone’s attention being on him -- how quickly does he stumble over manic words when all eyes turn to stare -- but the feeling doesn’t form. instead, he finds himself actually looking forward to whatever else his husband has planned, even if it means drawing the observation of many. for such overwhelming awareness is dulled when pulled into other’s gravity, an atmosphere of their own that only they breathe. viktor steps forward, fills the space to lean in and press gentle kiss against jayce’s lips, his cheek, his neck; can’t help but want to make sure his devotion is expressed fully where words so often fail. does he know how much i adore him? does he know how much i would do if only he asked? no need to ask for the moon; already is it yours. ❝it was already made perfect upon waking up beside you. though i look forward to seeing you attempt to one-up yourself, солнце.❞
@ladysmaid said ; maybe she's done some snooping, or maybe she's just happened to notice his birthday on confidential documents while tidying up. she can't help it if viktor left information out in the open and she just happened to notice... so she's done something simple, a box of homemade butter cookies, chocolate and vanilla, packaged in a neatly wrapped box. a little note attached that says, " for the grouch that thinks picking up a book is pity. have a happy birthday, dummy. <3" viktor’s birthday ; accepting.
the day had dragged on surprisingly long, though perhaps that’s how all birthdays felt like -- unending hours of supposed importance hidden away from those around him, a day he attempted to treat as every other tinged with the secret knowledge of what it truly was; another marker of passing time, another year marked down. he keeps the tally of years close in his mind, a reminder of his age / his survival. for him, no celebration is necessary -- it is enough to be here, and so, he tells no one. which is why the little box and note are such a pleasant shock. it takes him a moment to remember the application he had left in the lab that required his birthdate, and his mind knows that only dearest indra would have noticed such a small detail. the note has him laughing into empty air, carefully unwrapping paper to homemade sweets. as he takes a bite into a chocolate one, he thinks to himself of a way to pay her back. for now though, he enjoys the birthday treat, a high note to end such a day on.
@vestniik ──── ‘ he’s waiting very patiently for his birthday kiss. / to ori <3 ’ ; 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑏𝑜𝑦!
𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑙𝑒. To get Viktor to even agree to venture out, even to a secret meeting place, was a feat in its own right. And on this day in particular, one of just a small handful of days in which Viktor specifically stated he wanted nothing to celebrate ? Still, there the two of them were. Picnicking by the water’s edge between Piltover and Zaun’s upper reaches. Beneath the star of a miraculous night filled with new beautiful memories and unrestrained joys ; all things that were well-deserved for Viktor. 𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑂𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠.
𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒. A tension and an undeniable feeling of longing. Orianna adored him ──── loved him, she knew even in the deepest reaches of her doubting conscious. Even with the overwhelming weight of their world’s expectations of them. The fear of their forbidden companionship ──── not yet a blossoming romance ──── being discovered. 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙.
𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑏𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑙𝑒 : Would Viktor be so accepting of such an advance? [ . . . ] While her heart assured her, there were dozens of reasons for Viktor to shun this. ──── She had to take that chance ; to breathe life into such a small hope while there was no one else to witness it.
𝑇𝑟𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟, Orianna leaned in without rushing to close the tantalizing gap between them. Too shy and respectful for a full embrace ; yet committed and wishful enough to risk tenderly kissing Viktor at the corner of his lips. Lingering there for what felt like both a heart-thrumming eternity and all too swiftly departed bliss. And in the most hushed of voices, Orianna said. ❛ Happy Birthday, Vitya. ❜
*holds your hand and swings it a little bit when we walk*
@vestniik
@hasakii said ; HAPPY BIRTHDAY VIKTOR!!! his present is NOT yasuo’s brain, but in fact a little box of chocolates left on his desk. viktor’s birthday ; accepting.
small box of chocolate comes as a surprise, and if it weren’t for the fact that he knows he’s unable to be poisoned, he would hesitate to even opening it. luckily, such a concern is unnecessary, and the herald carefully opens the box, taking out a piece, and popping it in his mouth. mind goes over the small list of figures in his life that are both aware of the date and able to get in his lab so easily and undetected before settling on that familiar name: yasuo. a low hum of appreciation leaves like scrapping metal. it’s sweet -- he’ll have to ask the other where he bought such sweets. unless he made them? either way, they satiate his sweet-tooth perfectly. he really needs to improve his security, it would seem. certainly it is not a brain. perhaps that is the gift that he will just have to take for himself.
@powpowderblue said ; Slides a small package under the door. It looks... very plain. Brown paper and string. However... when its opened it explodes in a cloud of glitter and pink smoke. There's a card inside that keeps meowing after its opened that says 'HAPPY MEOWTHDAY' with a crude image of a cat under it drawn in Jinx's own hand. There is a present in there at least, a vial of shimmer, all neatly tied off with a bow of pink ribbon and new spanner set. Although they have been doodled on. viktor’s birthday ; accepting.
the machine herald turns at the noise, foreign in a world so tightly controlled, where every little ticking is from his own creation. he stands, placing wrench down against the table, and crosses to where the package lays, quietly looking at it in a moment of pause. almost is he tempted to either ignore it completely or toss it out -- yet something in him whispers ‘open it,’ and so he does. he doesn’t flinch at the glitter and smoke, instead letting out a snort of laughter; jinx -- for who else could be up to such a task? no one would dare risk a prank on the so-called boogeyman, not unless you were crazy. once the smoke dissipates, he peers into the box, quickly closing the card to shut off the annoying meowing before looking at the rest of the contents. a flood of... happiness? warmth? he’ll call it appreciation, floods him at the sight of doodled tools, something that only she could get away with. the herald crosses back over, sitting down once again in the spot where he can so often be found, placing new spanner set upon table -- and reaching for them immediately instead of the older tools when needed. a mental note to thank her upon next appearance crosses his mind... along with a way to pay her back.
it’s his birthday but instead of celebrating, he’s off hiding in the lab, trying to avoid the unnecessary attention such a “special day” tends to draw.
@permxission asked ; vita is running as fast as his little feet can carry him, which is not unusual for the young boy- but the skid marks, bloody knees and scrapes certainly are! Scampering over toppled pipes and building rubble he makes his way back home, worried face turning amused- then triumphant as he lets out a stream of giggles. The giggling continues as he makes his way into the place their family called home, wiggling his shoes off his feet as he ran past worrying parents and right to viktor's room. " TA-DAA! " He chimed through a few freshly missing teeth as he held out a box to the other kid, seeming more than proud of himself for it. " Promised you I would get you a Winter's Veil gift! Takeittakeittakeit! " He didn't give him much of a choice- climbing onto the other's bed and gently placing the simple but clean wooden box in the other's lap as he sat criss cross, rocking forward and back in barely contained excitement. For all his pestering- the box if opened would reveal- what looked to be a set of engineering tools! Clean ones too! There weren't many, just the standard three types of screwdrivers, a very small hammer and two different sized wrenches, but they appeared as if they'd never seen a day of use! " Again- Tadaaa! These ones wont break like the rusty ones! Uh,, i think ,, they shouldn't anyway!! " unprompted ; always accepting.
sitting upright in bed, covers haphazardly crossing his lap, viktor stares out at the winter scene beyond his window; snow litters the ground in heaps, deep and still falling, whiting out the zaun landscape. it’s a pretty sight, if you’re able to ignore just how deadly it can be; clean, refreshing, something beautiful in it’s own right, but his mind can’t help but stray to the thoughts of all those unfortunate enough to not have a home like he does. he wonders how he’d survive out there beyond the warm walls, alone in the cold, tomorrow not a promise but a hope... but quickly is he broken out of such morbid thinking by the sound of loud footsteps crashing through the house, knows instinctively it’s vita. he’d been wondering where the other had run off to, assumed probably to play with the other neighborhood kids in the snow -- something he himself couldn’t do, not when it was so slick out and his health already so poor (already had he been sick three times this winter, just now getting over the latest bout). no, he had spent the winter curled up inside, only able to watch from his spot at the window. a familiar feeling of alienation. smile cracks upon lips as he turns his attention to younger brother, concern flashing at the sight of new damage done. he almost wants to ignore the surprising gift and focus on getting other fixed up, but his excitement is contagious, and viktor’s own curiosity of the box has him quietly opening it. for a moment, all he can do is sit in shocked silence, eyes gazing at tools in awe. ❝vita, where did you even find these?❞ carefully he lifts a wrench, inspecting it closely before looking back at his brother. ❝...did you steal these? from the topside? why would you do something so--❞ dangerous? stupid? he doesn’t finish the sentence, isn’t able to, not when he sees just how proud brother is of himself. viktor knows he should scold the other for apparent thievery, but isn’t that how they survive? and after all, it was done with the goal of making him happy -- how could he be mad over such thoughtfulness? ❝thank you, vita. how about i make you something using these? anything you want... after we get you all cleaned up.❞
In order to understand, I destroyed myself.
Fernando Pessoa, from The Book of Disquiet (via minuty)
@rottnking asked ; " vitya -- “ there’s a lull within notation , voice soft yet confident - peaked with curiosity. he’d been paying far more attention to his partner rather than his share of work for the last hour , anyway , but only now did he finally decide to touch upon inquisition that had been weighing upon his mind. a hand reaching out , null thought to the action as he tucks a stray stand of viktor’s hair behind his ear. smile seemingly luminating the room as the sun slowly begins its descent. “ I know it may be last minute but . . . I wanted to know if you’d accompany me to the snowdown festival tonight in the city square ? “ // from jayce unprompted ; always accepting.
soft inhale at the sound of his name, like honey on tongue; vitya -- only sounds right when spoken in his voice, jayce’s voice. it’s like he comes back alive, stirring from his stillness induced by hours of work, concentration making body into a statue -- the marble cracks, breaks as his weight shifts and turns towards the other. it takes a great amount of his self-control to stop him from leaning in to that hand, from reaching up to grab wrist and press it closer. instead he smiles, enjoys that soft fluttering of fingertip against skin before it retreats. but the smile breaks, just momentarily, before he’s turning away to look out towards the window at setting sun.
❝the snowdown festival? ah, that is tonight, isn’t it?❞ voice sounds faraway as he considers the offer; he’d never been, always too busy or in too much pain to warrant joining such festivities, but he’d heard of how it was spoken of, how so many around him looked forward to the yearly event. a tradition that zaun lacked, his experience with such a thing was nonexistent. perhaps that’s why he hesitates; there’s still so much work to do, there’s always next year, jayce would most likely enjoy it far more without his presence. a glance down towards his leg, eyes trailing over to the cane propped carefully against table; he’s not hurting particularly bad, but what if? imagines having to cut their time short due to his own inability to keep up, ruining the night of fun that only comes around once a year. ruining jayce’s night. but it’s the way jayce says it that causes him to push these thoughts aside -- that genuine tone that speaks far beyond what words can say. the fact that jayce wants to spend time with him outside of the lab, away from the formulas and experiments and failures. enjoying the cold winter’s night among so many others in a moment of unquenchable joy. ❝...i think i would enjoy that very much, солнце. shall we leave now?❞
