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memestertrucks2025-01-01 12:01 am
monstertruckers) wrote in memestertrucks2025-01-01 12:01 am
Entry tags:
JANUARY TDM
After tumbling through shadow you find yourself in a shrouded, ruined garage. It’s full of shattered windows and broken mechanical equipment; watch out for shards on the floor, in between the strange symbols scrawled into the ground. Outside the daylight is fading; night is rolling in, and there’s just a few dying lights flickering on and off. It’s going to be hard to see in here and avoid bumping into things and people, if you don’t get outside soon.
Beyond the rundown garage is an overgrown gas station surrounded by thick, wetland forest. Starlight is streaming through the trees, along with light from a broken moon. The one thing that isn’t overgrown with plants is a large Convoy of vehicles, parked right underneath the station canopy.
01: START UP
The Convoy looks like a cross between a semi truck and a train; there’s no one at the front, but there’s still power humming through the entire Convoy. It’s also the most hospitable thing in sight. Why not make yourself at home a little? You just have to chase that eerie, empty feeling since there’s no one else present.
Alternately, there are the cars scattered around the Convoy; all of them in better shape than the gas station. And some of them looking and feeling almost like they might belong to you. That feeling is only increased, when you see there’s a key to the car nearby. Perhaps the key is already in the ignition, on the dashboard… It may have even been on your person, ever since you woke up in that garage. Either way, you have the keys to the vehicle now.
…But there’s a few rough edges on these vehicles. Flat tires, cracked windows and mirrors, maybe some stuck doors and locks; all of them the sort of thing that requires two pairs of hands and supplies. The garage can take care of the supplies… Now it’s just a matter of finding some extra hands.
Alternately, there are the cars scattered around the Convoy; all of them in better shape than the gas station. And some of them looking and feeling almost like they might belong to you. That feeling is only increased, when you see there’s a key to the car nearby. Perhaps the key is already in the ignition, on the dashboard… It may have even been on your person, ever since you woke up in that garage. Either way, you have the keys to the vehicle now.
…But there’s a few rough edges on these vehicles. Flat tires, cracked windows and mirrors, maybe some stuck doors and locks; all of them the sort of thing that requires two pairs of hands and supplies. The garage can take care of the supplies… Now it’s just a matter of finding some extra hands.
02: RUIN EXPLORATION
The ruined gas station and garage are the only man-made structures around, and have seen better days. The store still holds packaged food, and tepid drinks of all sorts. The garage has old mechanical equipment for working on cars, along with that strange summoning circle.
There's also a giant tree bursting through the gas station roof. And clinging to its branches, half melted into the surface, are metallic bodies. Graffiti is spray painted onto the tree, reading ‘avoid the Husks.’
Those who ignore the warning and get closer hear a faint hum coming off those bodies. It’s almost like whispers, though it’s impossible to make out any clear words. Some Husks are clutching supplies in metal fists. For a few unlucky new arrivals, those Husks might even be holding the keys to their vehicles.
Making direct contact with the Husks intensifies the hum, and the whispers begin to form into pained cries, and give the impression of something rummaging through their thoughts; trying to pry out things that hurt Drifters, and reflecting those hurtful things on the bodies of the Husks for anyone to see.
There's also a giant tree bursting through the gas station roof. And clinging to its branches, half melted into the surface, are metallic bodies. Graffiti is spray painted onto the tree, reading ‘avoid the Husks.’
Those who ignore the warning and get closer hear a faint hum coming off those bodies. It’s almost like whispers, though it’s impossible to make out any clear words. Some Husks are clutching supplies in metal fists. For a few unlucky new arrivals, those Husks might even be holding the keys to their vehicles.
Making direct contact with the Husks intensifies the hum, and the whispers begin to form into pained cries, and give the impression of something rummaging through their thoughts; trying to pry out things that hurt Drifters, and reflecting those hurtful things on the bodies of the Husks for anyone to see.
03: MONSTER ATTACK
The night grows darker, and the shadows grow deeper. And from those shadows comes the glint of something moving across the Husks, rippling over the metal… And breaking it apart in a flurry of too sharp claws and teeth. That’s when the radio chooses to come on in another mess of static.
Be careful- Keep your fear and rage in check- Calls the monsters- We need the shield up-
The warning comes too late as monsters arrive. Some human-like but with razor teeth mouths that stretch from face to groin; others resembling alligators with bloated proportions and jaws that spit lightning; and still others where the vegetation has come to life, sporting thorn covered appendages.
The Pisaca monsters act as shock troopers, wearing the Convoy down with venomous bites and debilitating howls, before the heavy and brutish alligators bull in, using their bulk and electric attacks to obliterate what’s left. The capparwires scurry in the periphery, taking cheap shots with thorny vines and sparking electricity where they can. It’s a task to keep the monsters at bay until the generator fires up. Especially when one last enemy makes an appearance…
Be careful- Keep your fear and rage in check- Calls the monsters- We need the shield up-
The warning comes too late as monsters arrive. Some human-like but with razor teeth mouths that stretch from face to groin; others resembling alligators with bloated proportions and jaws that spit lightning; and still others where the vegetation has come to life, sporting thorn covered appendages.
The Pisaca monsters act as shock troopers, wearing the Convoy down with venomous bites and debilitating howls, before the heavy and brutish alligators bull in, using their bulk and electric attacks to obliterate what’s left. The capparwires scurry in the periphery, taking cheap shots with thorny vines and sparking electricity where they can. It’s a task to keep the monsters at bay until the generator fires up. Especially when one last enemy makes an appearance…
03-A: MIRRORMIC
There's as a metallic shiver along one of the remaining Husks, and a strange ringing whisper in the ears. The next moment, the Husk breaks open in a gleaming pool of quicksilver. That quicksilver catches reflections, and molds itself into a darker copy of a Drifter.
The mirror monster whispers faults and secrets at the reflected Drifter, and anyone close by. It tries to goad Drifters into an attack. And when struck, the mirror monster plays its second trick; whatever damage it takes is reflected back onto the Drifter as a transformation. An injury to the arm transforms the Drifter's arm, and so on.
It's possible to banish this monster through direct lights shone on it from a car, flashlight, or magic… But such action needs to be swift, before the Mirrormic completely changes its Drifter.
03-B: BOMBADGY BOMBARDMENT
Before, during and even a little after the monster attack, there’s an extra presence scurrying around the vehicles, snuffling and barking when startled. A band of chunky, raccoon-esque monsters known as the bombadgy are raiding anything that looks like it could be food storage… And this includes vehicles!
The bombadgy’s claws are deft and sharp with tearing through windows and door seams. These creatures are a touch skittish and won’t attack unless provoked. They also can expel a flammable gas… And this means they can explode if sufficiently spooked or stressed. This also means that they can be treated as living bombs, and be lobbed at other threats if needed.
04: WIND DOWN
During the monster attack, there’s changes gripping the Convoy, and especially the people in it. It might feel like your control is getting worn away by the second… At least until something in the trucks starts to whirr to life. It’s a soft enough noise, little more than a hum as something blooms out of the engines. It fast turns into a shield that envelops the Convoy in a shimmering, glowing dome.
And while it might not be enough to reverse those changes, it can at least stop them from growing any worse. Give you a moment of breathing space to adjust to everything that’s happened, and give you some measure of clarity and control. There’s time to breathe and mend now. Take stock of one’s injuries and changes.
But there’s a few strange surprises still waiting, it seems. Because the corpses of the monsters begin to disintegrate, like they are bleeding out motes of sickly light. Light that you quickly absorb; it has the side effect of lessening pain, even mending wounds… Though it might make you feel a bit off. Maybe a little more excitable, maybe a little more irritable, or maybe expressing a certain odd psychological quirk. Still, that sudden surge should pass in about an hour or so; just need to keep it together until then. Perhaps with a little company.
And while it might not be enough to reverse those changes, it can at least stop them from growing any worse. Give you a moment of breathing space to adjust to everything that’s happened, and give you some measure of clarity and control. There’s time to breathe and mend now. Take stock of one’s injuries and changes.
But there’s a few strange surprises still waiting, it seems. Because the corpses of the monsters begin to disintegrate, like they are bleeding out motes of sickly light. Light that you quickly absorb; it has the side effect of lessening pain, even mending wounds… Though it might make you feel a bit off. Maybe a little more excitable, maybe a little more irritable, or maybe expressing a certain odd psychological quirk. Still, that sudden surge should pass in about an hour or so; just need to keep it together until then. Perhaps with a little company.
05: CAMP
A screen in the Convoy flickers to life. The image isn't visible through a snowfield of static. Same with the audio:
“Still… Alive? Good. Connection- Can’t hear you. Can't talk. Convoy will- take you closer to Nirvana.”
After that, the connection is dropped, leaving a collection of text:
I’m sorry. I have no answers for you. But you’re still alive. You’re not as broken as the rest of the world. When the sun rises, this Convoy and all the cars around it will start moving North towards Nirvana. If you want answers, and to stay as close to human as you can… I suggest you stay with the Convoy. Good luck.
A last alert flashes across the screen: “TESTING LOCAL NETWORK CONNECTION.” And then… Music starts to play on the speakers. Mellow guitar and brass music that’s at odds with all the weird that’s happened recently, but perhaps just the thing to relax to.
“Still… Alive? Good. Connection- Can’t hear you. Can't talk. Convoy will- take you closer to Nirvana.”
After that, the connection is dropped, leaving a collection of text:
I’m sorry. I have no answers for you. But you’re still alive. You’re not as broken as the rest of the world. When the sun rises, this Convoy and all the cars around it will start moving North towards Nirvana. If you want answers, and to stay as close to human as you can… I suggest you stay with the Convoy. Good luck.
A last alert flashes across the screen: “TESTING LOCAL NETWORK CONNECTION.” And then… Music starts to play on the speakers. Mellow guitar and brass music that’s at odds with all the weird that’s happened recently, but perhaps just the thing to relax to.
MICRO ENCOUNTERS:
PLEASE NOTE! These are small bits of set dressing for players to include in threads if they wish, rather than full fledged prompts or events. You may handwave your exploration of these areas, or thread them out.
Race Track: There’s a race track that winds around the gas station! It’s a bit threadbare in places and little more than a mossy and muddy trail. But it’s still a race track that weaves under and over trees, and seems like a good place to test new wheels.
Gone Fishing: The gas station area eventually turns into the start of a swamp; that explains where the alligators came from. It may be possible to do a little bit of fishing, though the fish are just as weird as everything else. Still edible though. Swimming in the swamp is not advised. The alligator monsters and fish tend to bite back.
Spray Paint Messages: The paint on the trees and gas station is starting to fade and wash out, but can still be legible; most of it contains messages warning about the end of the world, prayers to the heavens for mercy, and dire warnings about husks and something called “moon warps.”
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I wouldn't let you die.
[ a murmur of truth. ]
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The Hexcore... you didn't destroy it, did you? [he lifts his changed hand to look at, contemplative. It was his only chance at survival, but he wanted to rid the world of it. A failed experiment. A dangerous one.
If he didn't die, then he must have lived due to that, which... would mean Jayce broke his promise. Viktor bundles that hand into a shaky fist, angry at himself,]
It killed Sky, Jayce. In my stubborn pursuit to live, she was an unwilling sacrifice. She should have been given a second chance, not me...
cw: suicide ideation
[ i'm sorry i let you down. i'm sorry i would always let you down that way and i don't even wish i wouldn't because my life would be meaningless without you. he could say it forever, cascading with guilt, but never could he regret. regret would mean he'd allow viktor to slip from his fingers without suffering. let him go, and it was more probable that jayce would go mad in the head before accepting that fact. he doesn't push back. he knows, they've had tis conversation before. the only thing jayce would at the very least like to leave him with is full disclosure, quiet, shivering, small but at the very same time with a heart for viktor that did not fit in his chest. ]
I couldn't fathom— living a life . . . Without you in it.
[ despite his vulnerable words and their devout connotations, he doesn't expect it to be a justified excuse. just— a why. he broke his promise, he did. he broke many promises until he vowed to keep his last.
he feels awful that he'd either do it again or plunge off a ledge uninterrupted.
it feels a bit much to add anything else, for the moment. his heart feels like it was close to bursting, and because of that his eyes stay glued to the car roof. ]
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Seems that distance didn't matter. Jayce would still crumble without him. A real tragedy of a partnership. Doomed from the very start.
Rare for Viktor, given it's always Jayce who reaches out for him, but he unfurls his fist and rests it on the man's shoulder. Quiet and yet firm, he mutters,]
I'm right here, Jayce. I'm not gone yet.
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plans have changed drastically. he is not in the time nor place he should be, with the viktor he was fated to confront elsewhere. they're not even on runeterra anymore.
jayce turns over onto his side, facing viktor. they were both like-minded, able to follow each other's theorem, formulas, equations— and viktor was genius. he knows, especially from their shared experience, what his partner had thought. ]
. . . It was an accident, [ he affirms, eyes downcast and hand resting on the atrophied muscle of his now braced leg. ] I tripped— and the Mercury Hammer fell on me.
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And hearing what happened, it makes him wince at the thought. That damn hammer.]
And you... crawled up out of a ravine, after that?
[He doesn't like the alternative answer to that question- that Jayce died, that Viktor died, that this is just some freakish afterlife they both ended up in.
Or is there comfort in that, that they still got to meet up in a life beyond? Too much to digest at once.]
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jayce is beyond thankful for the grounding palm still on him— after everything. after everything he did and didn't do. with no sign of leaving his person, he holds on, fingers becoming a tight fit around them. it takes a pause longer to speak, dry lips crackling bubbles of thick saliva when he swallows and makes way for words. ]
At least I made something helpful out of that thing. [ his brace is everything he has of his hammer . . . a hammer that he shouldn't have made in the first place. ] You were right.
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[Viktor can imagine the perseverance it would take just to survive, let alone build a way back up from that. Most would go fully insane and submit to their cruel fate. Jayce is no soldier, but he's a fighter. He doesn't give up on his dreams, dogged to the end.
He feels Jayce's hand tighten over his. Viktor layers his other hand over top to further cement himself in place alongside his partner. A squeeze of Jayce's rough and broken knuckles. More assurance that he's here. He's not leaving him. Not if he can help it. Not then and not now.]
We were never meant to build weapons... but I am glad it could be repurposed. I'll- look at it. If we make it to some calm. I can re-engineer it for you. Make it better suited. [Jayce knows that Viktor knows what will be most helpful. While the crutch was a Talis forged aid gifted to him, Viktor had designed his own duel-layered leg brace to keep himself going. He wouldn't allow Jayce to have less than the best option.]
If that brace is the Mercury Hammer... what is the weapon you had with you?
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i don't deserve you, he thinks as he stares at the other's profile, almost dreaming. the question snaps him back. he doesn't know what to say because— he cannot give the details regarding viktor's eventual ascensionism. his partner is too smart. he'll catch on with the smallest hints. and that suffering, right now? is unnecessary.
he finds his way, though. a temporary path that allows that ommission. ]
Do you remember your theory on "Wild Runes"?
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Of course I do. They were so much more common within the Hexcore. More obvious. A natural and unpredictable consequence of our channeling of the arcane...
[Tampering with, really. He doesn't want to regret their work, all their knowledge seeking, their dream. Yet, what choice does he have, beyond guilt? They should have stepped away from that ledge long ago, both of them. They just keep looking further down the well. The bottom was too far down to see any reflection of their hubris.
Jayce is correct about his mind working fast, never underestimating Viktor's intelligence and cunning. He's already trying to connect the mention of Wild Runes to that hammer- The most obvious springs to his mind,]
The patterns on it- [the same as he noticed on the plants he had empowered, then killed, with the hexcore's energy,] -... it is a byproduct of some kind?
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Is the amount of exposure the same?
[ not just the hammer. jayce's arm holds the same spindling pattern of abnormality. across his cheeks is a similar pattern— albeit one would need to catch the reflection of light bouncing off it just right to see.
and so much more viktor's eyes can't reach without clothes in the way. ]
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[The hammer was also discarded outside in Jayce's panic to rush Viktor somewhere more safe.
Though, there is a noise like a shield powering on beyond the doors of the van they locked themselves in as a shelter. The battle raging outside has come to an end, though they would need to actually open the door and look out to realize as much. Viktor will note that the sounds of struggle seem to go quiet beyond the metal shell they're within... maybe the monsters have been banished?
He doesn't want to peel himself away from Jayce to check, his partner matters more than anything else right now.]
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jayce hears it too— it's hard not to, when you're attuned to the mechanisms of technology that splits the growing silence with a thrum that can't be ignored. the shuffling and stalking of any monsters outside have died down. despite thinking of looking, he doesn't pry himself away. not yet.
he heaves a placid sigh, instead, exerting pressure against the sides of his partner's hand on him. ]
I just wanted to keep us occupied.
[ there is more to that. he misses viktor's bright ramblings, his astute hypothesis and how his mind quickly pulls evidence into truth. he misses listening to him theorize.
he misses everything about him before the explosionm they had just found themselves again. reunited. together they devised a plan that would free zaun. it what the chorrupt council, mel, heimerdinger did not do in decades, jayce had managed to do in record time. with viktor. together.
they should never be apart. they ground each other. ]
Hear you— speculate again.
[ as if it were the most beilliant thing in the world, as if it were a balm for all this ache. while small and lacking strength, his lips still tug up, and the breathless laugh that intertwines with the emphasized word leaves his tongue with yearning. ]
no subject
I can do without the enrichment, Jayce. [They are definitely in an enclosure right now, but maybe don't treat him like a pet lizard.
Viktor's harsher look promptly softens at Jayce's secondary sentiment.
How long had Viktor been dead, gone, or just... changed beyond recognition to Jayce? It gives him such a heartache to see Jayce a mess over him. And to be so openly cherishing having Viktor back. What does he even do with this!?
A huff, that's really it. Viktor squeezes Jayce once more with both hands. Only the topmost one slides away, curiously moving towards to door of the van. Not quite opening it to peek out, just yet... he speaks hushed,]
We have much to discuss, but in time. It sounds like... things have calmed. I'm going to take a look, hold your breath. [no noise, if they can help it. Viktor very slowly swings the back door of van open an inch, just enough to see out of. Hm...
A shield, yes, that's what he believed he heard. Has it blocked out the monsters, or merely trapped them inside a cage with them? Judging from the lack of any screaming or explosions,]
It would seem we're safe. There is a barrier up around us.
no subject
there was . . . too much to talk about. perhaps they could theorize together after everything is explained and straightened. they still needed to figure out a way back, to their designated timelines.
jayce levels himself with his elbows, rises when viktor does and keeps at the ready, with bated breath and a skittish reaction time that would promptly pull viktor by the waist and close the door if they must. nothing happens; instead, the dull light of the shield around them makes his eyes flinch from the brief brightness. too bright.
shortly afterwards, jayce's hexcore tainted limb rests his hand against his shoulder, only to reassure him: ]
I'll go get your cane.
[ the wait here is not exactly said, but nonverbally gestured with his hand out in a steadying motion as he slips away. it's the cane first. his hammer was secondary. jayce stiffly walks out to the blast sight, quite easily ignoring the heavy rod of his weapon in search of where the cane had been thrown. under some wheels, it seems . . . his braced leg trembles every time he puts his weight on it, the earlier rush making his wobble worse. every time, he squeezes his left hand into a fist, relaxing when he rests his body mass on his good leg. kneeling and bending is a slow way down, but he could still do it.
this is not the first time he's had to dig through wreckage to retrieve viktor's cane.
once he's managed, he has to use it to help him stand; his right leg was tired of carrying extra weight and his left protested— but he's surpassed limits far greater. he could do just about anything now, with viktor in mind. the tred back is slow to preserve himself, as well as still seemingly more cautious than he was curious. the hammer's hilt is hoisted halfway back, lifted to carry. his hair clings to his temples by the time he returns, allowing the hammer's head to connect to the ground and returning viktor's cane with both hands, brute yet undeniably gentle.
he'll sit himself on the back of the caravan for a moment. the first thing he needs to do is lift his injury off the ground, and maybe consider recalibrating the scraps. ]
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So, allowing Jayce to do this task for him is something Viktor can do. Despite the struggle, despite the strain, it might put Jayce's mind at ease to perform this service. Viktor sits with his legs slung over the tailgate of the van, doors flung wide, and just... watches Jayce go fetch the cane and hammer.
When it is handed back to him, he'll pat Jayce's knuckles lightly before taking it.]
Thank you, Jayce. [simple and sincerely spoken, Viktor not one to mince words nor to flatter unnecessarily. He props the crutch alongside his legs and looks to Jayce taking a seat besides him.]
... have you gone into the center Convoy yet? It has amenities. We should go together. [Viktor doesn't think Jayce should be separated from him now, so he can repay the man with whatever anchoring his presence provides.]
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the convoy . . . the abandoned shops. ]
For food.
[ he'd been— malnourished. he didn't think to change his clothes, or wash his face, nothing he'd consider a luxury for the now. he ate as many expired sponge cakes and processed meats he could before being forced to leave, to make up for all those disgusting, festering salamanders that thinking about chips and stale bread loafs makes his mouth water— like he'd still been harboring an empty, groaning pit in his stomach, and damn, he still was. what he'd taken in his haste wasn't enough to satisfy, and now that a taste has extorted a feedback of even hungrier, finally being aware of what the cells in his body screamed for. he wants to drink more water, too. it doesn't even have to be juice. ]
. . . We should.
[ he'd gotten too used to having to wait, sometimes, that certain days may not warrant a meal. now that it's so close by, the brain fails in not being anxious to eat. it's ironic, for someone who'd bring an entire meatloaf and wine to the lab.
he's anxious to eat, and doesn't even think about a bath. ]
no subject
[Viktor says in correction. He feels entirely disgusting and he's basically a fresh meadow compared to Jayce's state. Then again, Viktor was used to putting off meals more than Jayce ever was. He'd choose hygiene and sleep over a full stomach, but his appetite was a stunted and maladjusted thing. First from the food insecurity of his childhood, then worse and worse by illness.
It was always Jayce who had to convince him to not live off of coffee alone...]
There are rooms with a bathtub and shower. We can claim one for ourselves. I'm not sure about cleaning or replacing our cloths. We can figure that out once we're not this... caked in grime.
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That, too.
[ although he doesn't seem to be keeping it as one of his highest priorities, his response a dull one as his focus drifts away to thinking about having another three bag's worth of dried beef and a huge gallon of lukewarm water.
on the way over, despite viktor's pointed arrangements, jayce makes a wobbling bee line to the abandoned convenience store to stockpile a meal. whatever his arm could carry along with the hammer he has to drag, a little too apprehensive to consider that he could just come back and get more, despite having the creeping fear that there'd be nothing left by then.
he eats like he's forgotten to eat around people. like he's famished. like he's been part of a pack of wolves for as long as his hair's grown, and he doesn't care how he looks ravaging through ding dongs and chex mix. the beef jerky tasted like a juicy steak. so much water. it takes some satiation before he reminds himself to get some baked pretzel chips and tepid tea for viktor (it would have been iced if it were cold), and whatever else he seems fond of for later.
maybe some clothes and basic hygiene products, if they're going to bathe.
the inside of the rooms are as neglected as one may think, but it's more than enough for them right now. there's a soft place to sleep and running water. there's a long moment where jayce simply stands in the room, hammer put to rest against the wall and kind of just— hugging the goods he's helped carry as he looks around in stationary limbo, and stops with his eyes on viktor. ]
no subject
He won't judge as Jayce devours what he can as they go. The man was stuck with a broken leg at the bottom of a ravine. Viktor isn't about to shame him over table manners, he's just going to try and herd him out of view so they're not making a scene.
Finding one of the larger rooms still unclaimed is a massive relief. There isn't much room around the bed, but the sheets appear clean and the bathroom isn't disgusting. There are even towels stocked. The room may be a bit scuffed, worn and musty, but it must feel like the height of luxury for Jayce. No complaints from Viktor.
Viktor will move into the bathroom and flip on the shower- cold... Hmm... he knows how Jayce would hate that,]
Let's give this a moment. Maybe we can get some hot water going. [He will just... seat himself at the edge of the bath as he waits. A sighing moment to collect himself, hang his crutch alongside the towels on the rack, then thumb at his vest to begin removing his dirtied clothing,]
no subject
he'll sit on the toilet seat, lid down, and wait with him, wrench and screwdriver in hand that he picked up from the garage. for their braces. the second he notices viktor peeling away his ruined clothes— his gaze averts, and he chooses to focus his eyes on his crude, handmade contraption. he put it together with his bare, scratched and bruised hands. using the tip of a screwdriver would facilitate removal tenfold. ]
If it's cold, I'm going straight to bed.
[ there is a very stark silence there with the gruff drawl of his words. his mostly hidden face doesn't hide the subtle lip quirk under the bush of his whiskers. ]
I'll just CW: nonsexual nudity/intimacy and self harm injuries here
[Savage, Viktor, but also he has standards.
Why he already presumed they'd share the bed is beyond his current thought process. Sharing a bed felt like a foregone conclusion. He's not overthinking it... unless Jayce won't shower off the smell of the fissures. Then the man is on his own.
He peels back his vest and shirt, groaning as fabric clings and peels away from the only scarcely scabbed over runic carvings. Viktor's suddenly very glad that Jayce is averting his eyes. He's not ashamed, not really, but there is a regret that comes with... failure. Marred forever by his own inability to save himself. If he feels at all humiliated, it's from the pathetic nature of that, rather than a prudish or modest sentiment.
Distracting himself, he reaches towards the water fall to test the warmth. No longer cold, so it's heating up a bit,]
Lukewarm, now. Get undressed and sit in the tub. I'll stay sat on the edge... we won't waste warm water if it's fleeting, that way. [yeah, also bathing together is a foregone conclusion, just practical. Not at all because Viktor would feel terribly guilty leaving Jayce alone when he's clearly so desperate for their shared proximity.]
and cw: description of injury/gore
it takes a bit, but the brace comes off, broken scraps bursting at one of the points of tension which makes jayce curse under his breath. he'd still needed this thing until they could get better materials for a new one. preservation was key.
he then also remembers, that . . . viktor no longer has his brace. it's something he was so accustomed to that, even after such a lengthy amount of time has paced— by the time he was ready to ask permission the way he used to, he finds nothing for him to work on. only the scabs of injuries, the runes they'd turn nights over studying, self inflicted. desperation.
jayce tries not to let his gaze linger. he knows viktor wouldn't like the guilty look in them, but he can't hide that any more than his own injuries. he knows what's coming, now. he keeps thinking it, the words he wants to say. ]
I should've never joined the council.
[ he admits, quietly, feeling the lump in his throat dislodge, although it doesn't get easier to swallow. his shirt comes off, still sitting. without the brace he feels a little less confident to throw is weight about. his right shoulder, his back— they hold bizarre scars. colorful, webbed and matching the anomaly's signature, the arcane has contaminated it like blight on foul flesh. less than, at least, his half-hexorized forearm. jayce's drenched socks come next, then his pants, coming off with more struggle but soon enough, left as a dirty pile on the floor that would never see the light of day again.
he's grown more hair just about everywhere to compensate the low temperatures in the ravine, but the worst is the remniscent of his fracture. the leg is not quite right in angle, if one's eye for detail was astute, having healed the way jayce could fix on his own. the hole where the bones had protruded is surrounded by a network of magical disfigurement— ugly blues, neon greens and pinks in layers, and layers, and layers. crusty caking of blood and arcanic puss circle the blooms of the chaotic blisters. he's never been able to properly wash it, and it's by a magical miracle he still has a leg at all.
jayce is guarded as he shuffles toward the tub with his hands in front of him, steps inside— and lowers himself down with a vice grip on the tub's edges, only because he'd been afraid of misstepping, slipping, and breaking all over again. ]
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[a nonresponse from Viktor at the commentary. The council... yes, no, maybe. Viktor cannot say. He had been so consumed with his research on the Hexcore that he didn't know what Jayce was getting up to on the council. Not beyond how it effected the Hexgates, how they might need to shut them down and investigate trade. Not beyond his barricades between the Undercity and Piltover, further separating the two parts. Creating a distinction without any difference, given Zaun had not yet been deemed independant and under its own leadership.
How close they got to that- that was Jayce's work, wasn't it?
That was good work. It may have amounted to nothing, but Jayce always gave his all. Viktor can't believe the same of the Hexcore. It had amounted to the senseless death of Sky. He is about to say something to Jayce's comment, but the man is moving to follow Viktor's suggestion and sit in the tub. Viktor tucks himself beneath Jayce's arm to steady him, so he's not so worried lowering himself down into the bath.
Good god, the state of Jayce's wrist, leg, and back... Viktor's runic slashes are nothing compared to that. Not that it is a competition in misery.]
Steady. [it's all he can much say, as Jayce settles into place. The water is gaining in warmth and Viktor is afraid to adjust it, in case disturbing the process will suddenly turn it icy cold. He busies his hands removing the rest of his own clothing. The leg brace... he had actually arrived with his own, but had taken it off to do some recalibrating on. It ended up left in the garage, as he'd been interrupted by the monster attack. It seemed he would no longer always need it, his hexcorified leg working with him in some bursts. He would not leave the brace behind, in case the weakness in his leg fully returned or just needed help some of the time. Later, he can go retrieve it... once he's helped put Jayce's brace back together. That can wait until after they're cleaned up and rest.
Viktor unlatches and pulls away the back brace from around his chest. The brace disengages from the permanent bolts anchored into his spine, revealing the track marks it left encircling his ribcage when he wore it too long. He had definitely worn it much too long again... It is set aside with care before he turns and pulls his legs around and places his feet down into the tub, resting behind Jayce's back provided Viktor has been left the room. Jayce can lean back against his thighs if he needs the support, though looking at his back... maybe it is too tender to press against anything.]
... would you allow me to wash your back, Jayce? It is... in a worrisome state. [Viktor has a deft touch, one adept at both the intricate and tougher tasks required for building their inventions. Not a medical professional's touch, but he studied under Singed. He had long taken care of his own illness. Viktor has skill in handling the sensitivity of flesh and not just unfeeling machine. It would be good to remind himself of that, that he has some human caring left inside to spare.]
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there's plenty of room; despite his size in height, he is not exactly a hulking piece of muscular work anymore, with what he'd previously be able to tank the width of the container with ease. his knees have tucked closer to his chest, giving him that fetal sitting as the water laps at his feet and toes, runs over his frame beneath the water's spray and already flushing away at the outermost layer of crud on him. it's . . . nice.
he manages to murmur, vulnerable and smaller than he was in the empty space between his chest and bowed legs: ]
Yes.
[ the strange, rooted scabs independant on where on the body it was may bleed tiny streams of translucent blues or greens when scrubbed or pulled away— allowing the remnants of an infection fought single-handedly to exudate and make way for steady ribbons of bright red. a good sign, really. the thick, worrying type of purulent drainage has been conquered before his arrival.
in the meantime, jayce tries to quietly busy himself. his nails could use a good cleanse, so he starts there, a slow, steady motion of cleaning the muck stuck beneath them, focusing on the sensation of warm water, and soon, viktor's hands. his back's muscles may ripple, both in anticipation as much as a reaction to actual touch, like a flinch, or a subtle startle at the reminder of how it works and feels. it is also nice. it is also viktor.
he hasn't been touched in what felt like eons. ]
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1/?? we'll see
2/??
3/5... let's say 5.
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5/5 he's done
KHFZIYFXIVHKHCC 😭😭😭😭😭
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