JANUARY TDM

[monstertruckers]

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((OOC: Hello, and welcome to our first TDM! This month, Reserves will open on the 10th and Applications will open on the 25th! We hope you enjoy the game launch!))

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.

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.

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…

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.

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.

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.”

NAVIGATION || RESERVES || APPLICATIONS

Comments

[hexrot]

[ they loved him so much. jayce wishes he could have met them. ]

It was Years . . . [ jayce repeats, reminiscing the aftermath of it. he could still see the smug look on viktor's face when he'd told him for the first time, and how much it made him bounce his thighs on the edge of his seat. ] Heimerdinger made you the Dean's assistant to keep the Council off your back.

[ even though his voice was hoarse and weary, jayce makes for a terrible impression. maybe if heimerdinger were sleepily on steroids: "Punishing the lad for pursuing knowledge would be counterproductive for Progress."

he remembers, down to quoting viktor quoting heimerdinger. jayce rests his cheek against one of his knees, his arms beginning to coil around his legs to tighten the ball he's made of himself. ]

I'm glad he did. [ jayce was so obsessed with his studies at the time, he ended up completely isolating himself from his peers. his grades were abysmal, fucking dimitri pissing him off for existing — his hope had been the kiriman's backing until the hexcrystal explosion tore through his dorm. then, his hope had changed. ] Because then I met you.

[becomerobot]

They wanted me to stand trial before the Council, just like you had too. Argue against all manner of... drummed up charges. Theft of resources was their key indictment. I had stolen time from professors and students with my presence. Nonsense. The amount of tutelage I provided my classmates had... well beyond made up for anything of the sort.

[Now, he hadn't really gotten into this with Jayce. He'd had one drink too many of wine, sleep deprived and worked to the bone alongside his partner, and bragged about it in private. Jayce was the only person he could do that around. Heimerdinger encouraged him to keep his head down about it and Viktor had already been a master of that. He got away with it for years by being subtle. He didn't need to boast. Even with Jayce, it wasn't something he much elaborated on.

They're far away from all that now. Not just in time, but now in place.

He also tries to do the Heimerdinger voice. He is also so bad at it-]

Punish a boy just for wanting an education? Preposterous! [-Viktor laughs, then coughs, ducking his head away from Jayce to direct it towards the tile wall. It takes some time to calm, ragged and wet from exhaustion. The hexcorification did not cure his illness, only kept it at bay... and who could guess for how long? Viktor is in uncharted waters.

The soap bar and his hand return to rub Jayce's shoulder's clean, his back largely taken care of now,]

We met at the correct time, Jayce. I was so held back by my own gratitude. You showed me so much possibility, so many... potentials.

[hexrot]

[ hearing viktor talk so lively both took jayce to heaven and twisted a knife to his gut. it was— amazing, to be reminded of what was still there. that viktor was still there. that what they had as a partnership was still there, despite the bumps and cracks. what hurt the most was the budding, dreaded realization that the chances of returning to those mirthful times were impossible. slim like threads of hair.

and he wanted to go back so badly. turn back time even further. do things a bit more differently than he had.

but they'd always be doomed. even then, he'd rather they be doomed together.

jayce's head lifts at the sound of viktor's hacking, his eyes obscured by the draping of his hair all over his vision. he opens his mouth to speak. even with all this water, his throat sounded parched. ]

You showed me how to live.

[ it is more than thankful. it is earnest, sentimental. he doesn't mean to tear this attempt at levity to shreds, he is— too sensibilized. too unprocessed. too overburdened.

he hadn't thought to tell anyone about the ravine. in his timeline, he wouldn't end up telling a single soul. the only one who would see was—

him. ]

All I thought down there was to . . . Survive. To get back— [ he has to pause, force one. he feels his last word crest. ] to you.

[ he would have to pay a terrible price for it: destroy the hexcore deep within the chambers of the herald's chest. it could save him, one day — but his time to reunite with viktor afterward would not be immediate. there would be more pain. more chasms. viktor told him so, when he sent him on his way.

he doesn't know what he'd do, now. met with this viktor, mollifying his heart into an easily foldable piece . . . would he have the courage to do it? fresh out of the ravine, he was certain he would. he promised, he would. he doesn't want to. with such gentle hands on his shoulders, avid words, even laughs— even his coughs. he cannot bare to think of harming him. he wants to be with him until they both succumb to the blight of their magic. a fitting end.

after a growing, strained silence from his end, jayce makes a grab for one of viktor's suddy hands, confining them within the grip of his desperate fingers— desperate for more direct touch. more connection, despite the chiefly intimate moment they share in a bath tub, warm water and nude proximity. it was so selfish.

it might've been what jayce always wanted, but it still felt somber and unforgiving. was this a second chance or punishment? he doesn't say a word more as his shoulders begin to shiver. until they jolt in an irratic way some moments after, in choked silence. he doesn't let go. he doesn't want to. there're so many things he doesn't want to do.

his whimpers begin to bubble, stiffled, and what he could do best to soothe himself was rub his thumb into the inside of viktor's palm— just as the wave of his experiences crash into him with ugly realization, like a wild storm. he absolutely crumbles what he hadn't outside.

and he can't hold it in, judging from how much he strangles his throat shut with little success. ]

[becomerobot]

[Jayce catches Viktor's hand and Viktor squeezes his hold right back. A bracing hold, a silent I got you, which quickly grows more intense. Viktor grits his teeth at the thought of what Jayce had to go through. Just to live. Just to make it through to another day. Viktor had been there, though he had been born broken and trapped in the fissures. His crawl up was partway metaphorical and partway literal, taking Viktor a lifetime.

He sets the soap aside and then wraps his other arm fully around Jayce's shoulder, looping around his collar. A hand over his heart, flatly laid. Embracing him from Viktor's seat on the ledge of the tub, not wanting to put his weight onto the man's terribly tender back. Viktor holds close, buries his forehead to nudge the back of Jayce's wet and still oil caked hair. Viktor confides, with strength and earnestness,]

If anyone I've ever known could make it out of that alive? It's you, Jayce... [what would the Jayce he knew want to hear most? Viktor knows. He knows the man so well.]

... I have always believed in you.

[Viktor isn't letting go of him, not unless he's pushed away with force. His arms are still weak, but he holds fast and firm. Especially if Jayce begins to sob. Viktor isn't going anywhere.

He couldn't imagine a version of himself willing to abandon his partner in his grief... but if things had gone as differently as Jayce said? That is a too flattering self assessment. A naive misjudgment of Viktor's own capacity for disdain, his own capacity for anger towards betrayal.]

[hexrot]

[ a crumbling man one moment— when viktor does more than reciprocate, he is a man who falls apart. i have always believed in you breaks his heart and melts it into a pool of adoration too fractured to look anywhere near composed. he still feels like he doesn't deserve this so soon the voices he repeated in the dark, he remembers them— remembers the two times he'd lost viktor. the first when he died. the second when he saw all of jayce's atrocities against him. not ill meaning, but. broken promises were broken promises. ]

I'm sorry—

[ he sobs out, wet and violent. the blubbering of words are weaved heavy with turbulence, and the falls of his tears camoflauged by the running water. he could still see the look on viktor's face from that day. anger. betrayed resentment. a destructive disloyalty born from love; the one thing that would make someone do something unimaginable.

he holds viktor in the position he was in the way that he could, the size of his arms allowing only brief reprieve before he wanted to glue himself to the closeness of their bodies and never separate. it's so cherished. it's so wanted and always needed but not as sought as he would've liked, even from his perspective. jayce was always so tactile with viktor: rubbing his back, either on the slightly broader slab or at the small, kneading or clasping his shoulders. he could've done— so much more. instead he betrayed every one of their principles. he became someone he wasn't in his pursuit to please, and to fit into a role that was not kind to his shape.

he never asked for it, but he never said no, either. he still had fault in his choices, always feeling cornered by the possible results or pressure to play the game when there was always a choice. he was too weak to keep sturdy, too pliable to say no. like iridescent iron. he has gone cold too late.

the whines he relents is mixed with an ugly mess of fluids, but he still coils into himself like a broken spring, makes himself smaller, and allows viktor's slender arms to feel so much bigger than him. jayce holds viktor's arm, places a hand on top of his, squeezes both—

he wants to make a crevice within viktor and huddle there. he can't push him away. he's wanted this so much, and he needs it even more, now. ]

I was so selfish— I couldn't—

[ i couldn't do the right thing. i couldn't block them out. i couldn't keep my word. i betrayed you. i betrayed our work— and so much more goes unsaid, but not unknown. jayce turns his head, bows his forehead, and knocks it sideways to feel the pressure, to feel warmth of skin and bone, and not a dusty chalkboard. it makes him gasp, press in— and surrender himself completely.

he would never hurt him again, and whispers: ]

I'm so sorry— I swear it. I s-swear, on my life.

[becomerobot]

I believe you.

[He believes him, both trusts and feels for Jayce Viktor didn't have to reckon with the future Jayce lived, so it is easier than not. He cannot muster energy to be outraged and upset over a hypothetical. For himself, at least. To Jayce, it is clearly very real and lived experience. He's so broken down, in a way Jayce never was in all the time Viktor knew. In no world would Viktor believe this is mere delusion.

Or that Jayce, sobbing and desperate, was being insincere in his repeat apologies. Viktor returns each with further, quiet and comforting. (He hopes... comforting...)]

I believe you, I believe you, I do. [He wraps his other hand down around Jayce's front and fits his face to the back crook of the man's neck. Just hugging from him from behind, elevated to not dig into his scars and still bleeding flesh.]

I promise. [his eyes sting and Viktor isn't sure if he's fit to cry. Jayce is an emotional man, in far healthier ways than Viktor ever was. Viktor is expressive, but also very composed. There's some catharsis in bracing Jayce to cry his heart out. It's good for him. He should do it until the water goes cold- though Viktor hopes it doesn't. The warmth should be here for Jayce, as Viktor is, not going anywhere.]

[hexrot]

[ jayce bawls incomprehensible noises, no more words— only taking in viktor's physical and verbal replies, clinging to him throughout his crying spells, and swearing, to himself— he'll do anything and everything for him. he'll make this meeting count, accidental or otherwise. he is no herald of the arcane, he wouldn't know. but this couldn't be just some oddball coincidence.

eventually, jayce's tears go torrid. what is left behind is a stinging silence, the occasional hiccup of his breath or shoulders as he finds gradual, quiet composure. the jerks are more spaced, the snorts as well. he's rubbing his raw face clean, next, following the gentle carding through his crazy front bangs. jayce shuffles, unfurls viktor's boney arms around him only to give himself enough space to turn around once he feels that there's not much else do scrub off his back. curiously enough, he doesn't throw his arms off, or let them go carelessly.

he holds on. gentle. by the palms. settling into his squatted seat and keeping his knees bent so that there's still room for the both of them. once he's front facing, he . . . supposes he could let viktor's hands slip to wherever they wish to go now. he still had his gruesome fracture to clean, and he's a little more worried about that one than his back. it's like he could still feel the decay in them. jayce's eyes are bloodshot, the corners of them wrinkled with stress, but he breathes now, mostly steady, with that sunny-lime gaze on viktor's to inspect the features mirrored at him.

he asks, throaty and bare after his throat cracks and his lips pop: ]

. . . Can I wash you, too?

[becomerobot]

[Viktor moves along with Jayce's motions, just resting against him to sooth the man's woes. The loud sobbing turning gradually to exhausted and quiet come down seems like the best way for this to go. There's no way he would judge Jayce for needing such an outburst of emotion. Everything he went through must have taken absurd strength to not just give up to wallowing and insanity, brooding and self pity. None of that Jayce's way of things. He was a man of action, even if he could be swayed any which way given the right influence.

At the question, Viktor gives him a surprised look, a little purse of lips quirked to one side. Huh? Oh.]

Ah. Certainly. Hmm... stand by. [Viktor has to lower himself down into the basin proper for that. His one side is much heavier than the other now, and he worries if he dropped too hard on the biomechanical knee he'll break through the porcelain. Up to Jayce where he best fits, Viktor will opt to fit himself between the man's legs and facing away from him, so his back could be cleaned... he could also get to Jayce's injured leg that way. Viktor wants to inspect that and presumes he'll be going out to the medbay for supplies after they're tidied up.

His exhaustion can always wait, when there is work to be done. He wouldn't be able to sleep anyways, if the thought that Jayce needs medicine or bandages was nagging at his conscious.]

[hexrot]

[ to better accommodate where viktor now sits, jayce decides to spread his legs and carefully stretch them out on either side of him. it is a poor sight to behold, far worse than his back. there are spindly holes in his left, the infection nearly not as bad as it used to be, but the smell of the iridescent, translucent ooze that dribbles out of it when squeezed too tight seems . . . a little more foul than pleasant, but then again all of him had been foul. the bruises and boils from where his genius brace rubbed were minor, compared to the molded fracture. it is actually quite facinating.

the arcane is rooted in it.

as viktor likely pays mind to jayce, jayce spends his mind on viktor's back. he rubs the shared soap bar into his hands, before gently starting at his shoulders, mindful of any runic cuts. he won't rub too hard on them, but empty spaces of skin will get more caring kneads. ]

Do they hurt, still?

[becomerobot]

[Viktor is glad he's faced away from Jayce, that the man wouldn't be angled to see him wince and sneer when touched. It isn't because of pain nor disgust, though Viktor knows that is what it would read as. It is because he likes that touch and his mind rebels in self loathing guilt. He is not the one who should be indulged such comforts...

Yet, it is what Jayce asked to do and he is not about to deny him it. Viktor does long for the touch and closeness, he's never actually been adverse to it. Always, he allowed Jayce to reach and lay his hands on him. His shoulders, behind his neck, his lower back. Okay... not always, there was a rare exception. Always, except if Jayce was being an asshole.

He was usually just like this. Kind and bracing, not treating Viktor as too fragile nor ever weak. Viktor's thoughts are so turbulent and rushing that he barely hears what Jayce asks right behind him,]

What-? Uhm, no. No, they didn't hurt even when I made them. [he couldn't even recall the pain, not in comparison to the burning injection of Shimmer, like absolute lava through his veins. Then there was the magical shock of the Hexcore fusion, rearranging his insides and outsides to a biomechanical form, like getting electrocuted without the pleasure of passing out midway through. Cuts... cuts were nothing. Not a blip spared in his memory.

Stretching out around him cannot be comfortable for Jayce. Viktor crosses his ankles, legs pressing together in front of him, then arms wrapping forward around those. Small as he can be, giving Jayce more room to relax his outstretched legs. The injured one looks... just horrific. It is a wonder that it's healed even that much. Magic seems to have infected it as much as healed it. Self replicating and self destructive. Just fascinating... morbidly so,

Viktor sighs, reminded he should help distract the man when he can, to ease him with easier conversation between them and task that Jayce is sure to eagerly carry out,]

The spinal anchors could use some of your more firm attention. I have a difficult time keeping them all polished up... without loosening the bolts on accident, that is.

[hexrot]

[ the last of jayce's sniffles expire with his breaths like evaporated air. viktor may not see his nod in full, but it could be felt in the sway of his body, the way his head dips slowly inbetween the touch that may as well like gentle caressing as he swipes with suds and rinses with a single, broad hand cupping water. the mole on his neck, and the ones on his back . . . he connects them with his eyes. ]

I can check the torque after, too. [ once they're dried off, he could clean the wrench he's brought along and help make sure they're all a fit for his posture— as he's always done. jayce brings his utmost attention to viktor's spine, placidly moderate in the weight of his shabby touch. he's always been amiable when he's worked his hands on viktor, never exactly being overly doting and more genuinly open to affection, as jayce talis was with those he'd deem close (viktor? mel? his mother? that's it). he takes his time in sliding a finger or two in between the base of each implant and scarred tissue anchored around it, care and tender affection in every cleaning rub. perhaps too much of it, if one were to analyze, but it's not as if that bothered jayce. he's far beyond that frightening point of confusion. all he wanted now . . . was this. time with the partner he loved, and he was going to devote every inch of himself in making that apparent without a single lick of shame in it. ] . . . And your leg?

[ he never asked, now that it was hexcorized. ]

How does it feel?

[becomerobot]

We'll go to the medbay after this. See if there is anything to help us both.

[Us both, together, not just one helping the other. Viktor's always resisted needing to be taken care of. If he allowed that, then who would he take care of?

He bites the inside of his cheek at the questioning. His leg? What about Jayce's!? He withholds because his emotions are simply not... so snappy. The warmth, the closeness, the touch. All ease his hackles down and take the fight out of him. Jayce is the last person he wants to fight with about now. It would be pathetic of them.]

Depends on the day. Some days, it is worse than before. Heavier and even harder to move. [Viktor touches his hexcorified hand along the bolts of that leg. Golden remnants of the brace he wore and dug further runes into. A pillar conduit, same theory as the Hexgates. Now, forever fused with him. His hand... messier, a transformation incomplete and interrupted-

He lowers his head forward, tipped to one side so he can still be heard. His temple lays across the metal knuckles on that hand, tone trying to be optimistic. Trying. He has to try at it, for both their sake.]

Some days I can run on it. I couldn't even run as a child. Eeh, that hurts my lungs, though.

[hexrot]

[ us both . . . together. that makes jayce undeniably soft. if he still had tears in him, perhaps his eyes would sting some. with them all dried up, jayce's body language settles with his nipped brows, half-lidded eyes and pressed lips, partially curved. soft like whipped butter. he follows viktor's dipping head with a recline of his own, to catch the side of his features, dark lashes— the curves of his mouth falters at times, but not jayce's empathy. just as he finishes up the last of his spinal bolts (rubbing in between them, the skin around them, the thin muscle adjacent), jayce rises up the other's back with kneading, soothing pressure.

viktor had lost so much weight. he'd always noticed, and at times tried not to see it— it hurt too much. now, it is a simple reminder of the time he should be cherishing. ]

You ran?

[ there is a gasp to that question. ]

[becomerobot]

[The clear tension in Viktor's posture gradually loosens up into Jayce's touch. He's fully relaxes as the man finishes up the cleaning of those bolts. Knowing they're well attended to immediately sets him at ease, disliking falling into... disrepair. He had to stay so vigilant against that with his illness, the constant upkeep of himself just to get by...

The help is appreciated. He just doesn't like asking or relying on it.

He smirks at the gasp from Jayce. His normal hand, the one he's not resting on, makes a little gesture like running with his fingers. Zipping away!]

All the way down the docks. The whole thing. Screaming. [he chuckles weakly,] That might have been what hurt my lungs...

[hexrot]

[ oh, that helps his back, doesn't it? lets all that tension dissolve. with viktor's back thoroughly washed and massaged, jayce rinses the suds with still lukewarm cups of water with his palm, letting trikling streams steal away soap bubbles.]

It must've been . . . Incredible, [ he hushes, imagining viktor, viktor, running down the docks. ] I wish I'd been there to see it.

[ maybe if he'd been, the rest . . . wouldn't have happened the way it did. what was he doing, at the time? raiding drug empires, killing children. making a big ass hammer. but jayce was a little exhausted of going down that looping rabbit hole of grief. there is something that twinges his heartstrings, though. something this viktor hadn't heard from him, from anyone.

would this reach him?

jayce keeps it at the tip of his tongue, in case his partner was too distracted, and once viktor's back was clean—

he simply, quietly, leans his forehead against the top of viktor's spine and lingers there. ]

[becomerobot]

[Viktor does feel like a slumped pillar of melted wax about not. Still too rigid to offer much comfort, but a flickering light is worth something when placed up against so much darkness. He mutters, understanding Jayce's grief over how everything went. How they tried to do great and didn't even manage good. It would weigh on them both as long as they both had left to live. As it should. Absolving themselves of their illdoings would not save them.

Nor would lingering too long on past regrets and what-ifs...

Yet, Viktor humors that one for just a moment. It's a pleasing thought, they can indulge it only passingly,]

I wish the same, Jayce.

[some things just cannot be. Some events can't be rewritten. Viktor is leaned against and he sighs again. Tired and yet glad Jayce is with him. The hand he gestures with reaches back and pets the back of the other man's long hair. He's welcome to the touch. They're in this together, as always... as partners.]

[hexrot]

[ jayce leans into long fingers in his sloppy hair, some tips sticking to his partner's boney shoulder blades from the wetness of it. this was— nice. just a recess from too many things happening at once. jayce takes a break from scrubbing anywhere to turn his face, so that skin is pressed to cheek. his chest expands, following a slow, lagging exhale to fully give in to the warmth of the water and the body close to his, a hand's length away from being pelvis to pelvis.

jayce isn't uncomfortable, or flustered. it's too soon to say, too chaotic outside to be certain, but jayce finds himself thinking, anyway: if this would be how they'd be with each other, jayce would still be absolutely elated about it.

he gets to stay with viktor and that's all that matters anymore. but, jayce distracts the thought by refocusing on his hex-tainted arm. not numb, but still feeling a bit— clenched. beyond that, the blurr of viktor's spine clears into view. he follows each spine down with a featherlight brush of a line adjacent to his back until just before the start of his lumbar. more than that felt too much right now, even for him.

it's the spot of dark color contrasting sharply against pale skin. jayce lifts his head abruptly, tilts it downwards to look between them— ]

What's— [ his thumbs press at the middle of viktor's back, as if to push the skin up. with furrowed brows and a half-curious, half-incredulous sort of puff, he asks, almost sounding an arm's length away from possessiveness: ] When did you get this?

[ look, if he sounds even remotely possessive, it's because he didn't think viktor had gotten a tattoo during their time in the lab? he'd. he'd notice.

on multiple occasions. ]

[becomerobot]

[Well, all the lost tension returns pretty swiftly once Jayce is thumbing the bottom of his spine. His back arches forward, his tailbone sharply protruded and marked with ink he's yet unaware of. A mask shape with folded back, insect-like wings. He slumps his newly raised up shoulders again to look over them, brows furrowing at Jayce's questioning shift in tone.

Viktor asks with his usual crass tone,]

The crack of my ass? Eeeh, sometime last week. [haha a funny joke, but seriously-]

The anchors aren't that far down. What are you talking about?

[some other change? Further hexcorization Viktor hadn't yet realizes? Is it spreading up his spinal column now? Worrisome and marvelous if so. Perhaps he hadn't wasted his chance at saving his own life, if it would eventually overtake his weak body entirely. Or perhaps he'd become no longer himself, subsumed by the hexcore and make its vessel.

This is what untested and desperate science gets him, isn't it?]

[hexrot]

[ jayce puffs out a breath in a half laugh— damn it, he'd missed this incredible amount of sass, but— focus, jayce! this is serious! ]

Very funny, [ he tries to retort, and just ends up sounding like a smitten teen with the way you can hear his lips pulling up to expose his gums and teeth. jayce is still trying to adjust his seating, leaning back and bending his neck down to see this better without needing to move his soapy legs. it's— there's a symbol. ] Viktor, there's a tattoo here.

[ said factually, with a tone that says "ok, jokes over, now tell me—" ]

[becomerobot]

A tattoo? Of what-? [Viktor sounds as surprised to hear this about himself as Jayce is to see it! He knows that his fellows in the Undercity do so lover their inkwork. It was never his style. A waste of time, really, Viktor didn't see the point. Peacocking, that's all.]

It might have been left by the hexcore? Though, I checked myself over in a mirror to make notes. I had nothing at my back before the council meeting.

[which is the last thing he remembered of home]

A new development, I would suppose.

[hexrot]

[ not even after, jayce completes to himself. it doesn't . . . make sense for it to be. to have just appeared. jayce lowers his head halfway down viktor's back to see his best, gently pressing his fingers against his partner's shoulders to ease the view, to provide an answer for them.

the initial observation has jayce— flinching, glitching, rather, sucking in a yelp as he physically recoils from the mental blow. psychic damage x10..... that looked like Something he'd been shown. his gut keeps telling him he can't let it go further than that.

he's going to try and pretend it didn't happen, though. in a few seconds, even through uneven breaths, jayce is hovering behind viktor's back again and, somehow with even more gentleness, places his hands where they were before the access the tattoo. ]

It's . . . A symbol.

[ gears turn in jayce's head and work maddening laps for an answer. there are some details that . . . he's seen before? not the obvious. it's the other, runic-like details.

where—? ]

A symbol—

[becomerobot]

Jayce-?

[Viktor swivels as best he can without moving his hips, catching that glimpse of Jayce recoiling. The man looks very distressed. A trauma reaction? A reminder of something awful-? Viktor can't know, only suppose. When the man doesn't really recover and his inquiry seems to fall deafly-

Viktor fully tilts himself onto one hip, burling his legs so he can turn around more, twisting the symbol out of Jayce's full view, though his hand may remain at the small of Viktor's back. The man is reaching for Jayce in turn, trying to shake him back into this moment with a hand to cup his jaw, cushioned by his beard-]

Jayce. [a firm, grounding repetition. Come back to him, don't get thrown.]

[hexrot]

[ no, wait— he tries to gesture— he'd bantered to himself and clawed at the walls of a cave with notes and theories and wild, haunting scribbling with only a stone in hand so he wouldn't go insane but somehow still felt like he did anyway— ]

I've seen this, before, I—

[ what halts him is both touch and the moment their eyes connect, what was beginning to sound like shaken babbling the quieter he murmured. viktor's palm through the bush of his neglected facial hair grounds him with the start of a swallow and tight, self-controlled (or trying) lips. jayce's eyes keep shaking even when his gaze is fixed, straight into viktor.

he steadies his breathing, secures a hand over the other's boney wrist, cupping entirely around it, and— only nods, quietly. repeatedly, all attention on him like a lifeline, causeing his pupils to have nearly eclipsed the golden color around it.

[becomerobot]

[Viktor levels his gaze with Jayce's, sturdy and supportive. Don't spin out on him. Or maybe do, if another outburst of sobbing, overwrought emotion is what is needed. Viktor doesn't believe it is that, though, it's something... else. Something Jayce shouldn't be embracing with a meltdown.

His thumb pets through the course hairs of that beard a moment longer, before parting to give a light slap-slap to the fluff of it. Get it together.]

Leave it be for now. Can't do anything about a tattoo. [if it's inked onto him, that's that, Viktor isn't about to do anything gruesome to be rid of it.]

I need to clean up your leg. You think you can handle that without kicking me? [he doesn't think Jayce will kick him, it's just something to say to make Jayce huff and roll his eyes]

[hexrot]

[ jayce being so focused on staring at viktor, the little touches he could feel sifting through his beard makes the jolt he gives after being gently slapped kind of hilarious— in a startled animal kind of way. he recovers, although he has to visibly object with how his lips press and his cheeks puff.

that seems to pass the more his lower lip juts out a bit in a gradually understanding pout that maybe it was . . . all in his head. his gut tells him no. viktorhas him postponing his prodding, and only then snaps his attention back up. kick him? indeed, he huffs! he nearly deflates! the pout is still there! ]

I'm not some horse, [ jayce retorts, to which he'll probably regret a month from now. jayce rotates his leg only to slot his hand under the inside of his knee— and nodding, but it's more to psych himself up. ] I'll keep still.