[ It really is coming together. The voice sounds almost identical to back then in its tone and pitch, the delivery candid and pointed. Still, at the edges there's weariness.
My god, did you cement they're just two rats holding paws in this golden wheat field? A haven for outcasts, misfits, strays, and likely rodents? He doesn't retract his hand, instead finding the confidence to hold onto it.
It's warm, comforting, and reminds him of short times of understanding. It's something he loathes to relinquish, but... That wasn't his choice. It's not a choice.
This dream is meant to be his last, but why is he holding on? Is it because this is the last he's holding on? The shadows make more of the silhouette, but features still blurry. ]
[ARE THEY NOT JUST TWO RATS HOLDING PAWS? They have always just been two rats holding paws.]
Yes, thank you for that.
[For what it's worth, he's amused. He did say he appreciated Jacopo's unfaltering ability to be the most blunt bitch in the entire room. How can a man who spent so long pretending to be who he wasn't have such an uncanny talent for saying it like it is without thoughtful filter?
For a moment or two, he stands and holds Jacopo's hand in his own, mostly to give Jacopo the opportunity to pull away if wanted. His hold is pretty relentlessly solid, but he would not struggle to keep the hand if Jacopo decided against it.
Then, gently, he tugs on it to try coaxing the shadowy but clothed figure off the rock, to stand with him.]
It's time to be you again, Jacopo. I want to show you something.
[Don't think you can just abandon your existence and sit here forever on this rock in the sweetest place of a memory and pout and brood.]
[ So right... Jacopo is incredibly funny where he can be abrasive in a bitchy and wordy way, but also an overthinking roundabout man. Sometimes, he says what he thinks and other times he has to mask his intentions with excuses. Being direct with tender emotions isn't his strong suit.
They stand and it seems like he doesn't pull way. He decides it's fine to indulge. This is... A dream. The tug has him stand up and the shadows weave his silhouette. While still not clear, he is a solid outline. A void of a person.
Better than the start though. Viktor can easily tell when he turns his head, or when he looks at him, even though there are no features to read. ]
What is it? [ Some faint and slow curiosity, relearning what that felt like. ] You're not going to spring up an abrupt vow on me again, are you?
[ A dry tone. Wow... he is soooo bothered. But his tomb is beautiful, isn't it? It's peaceful, safe, and palatable for the final throes of a soul, but... Perhaps he was waiting for someone. For many people, maybe. For what, he isn't sure, but he isn't in the mind to dwell. Hasn't been since he had lived in this dream after his release.
So he's focused on Viktor, tilting his shadowy head as he's told to come to him beyond. ]
I can't just show up as I am. I have no physical form.
[ It isn't a no. He does want to see it... It must have changed from the descriptions Viktor painted for him before.
A detour would be nice? He's no longer shackled. ]
I know. I have come several times to this place for visits, wondering when I would finally find you here in the wheat.
[But every time he paid a visit to the dream of a memory, he found it peacefully solitude, and he never knew whether to be happy Jacopo was not here - it meant Jacopo was alive? - or disappointed at not knowing how Jacopo was faring.]
I'm sure we can figure out something between the two of us.
[Hmmm.]
Perhaps we can borrow Jayce's body for a while and put you inside of it?
[They could do that, and it would be funny to see and hear Jayce and Jacopo argue endlessly in the same hulking form.]
Some memories echo through this illusionary world, reflecting off of the gold sea. It's the industrial age in a faraway country from his homeland, where he tries to maintain his hold on his family's syndicate while being a large investor in the transcontinental railroad. It's a tale of betrayal between friends, twisted by a curse put on him after his first death... A tale of miscommunication between lovers, twisted by the curse that exacerbated and magnified his shortcomings.
It's somehow two sides of a coin that he had done well for himself. He kept a hold of the mafia and held onto the title of capo, then died of old age. His personal life was full of failures, in comparison.
Similar fate in essence as his life in the Middle Ages.
He had anticipated another round of suffering, resigned and accepting, but he's left to be wayward. Waiting... But now he's given direction.
Except! This direction!! Sounds insane!!! Viktor can't see his expression, but maybe he can sense how dubious he is. He'll At least hear it. ]
... You mean to put me... Inside your partner's body? [ ??? ] I have to share a space with that guy?
[ Jacopo you barely know that dude why are you expressing dislike and judgment already ]
[He does want to hear what all happened to Jacopo. They can chat about timelines and reincarnation and everything in between.
Once they figure out the stupidity of putting Jacopo inside of Jayce's body.
JACOPO IS SO VALID IN THIS ASSESSMENT.]
Jayce is not so bad... not now.
[Not before. But there had been a time, a shard of it, where Jayce seemed unwell. (They are all fucking unwell.)
He is at least not so unwell he can't understand what this burden means to Jacopo, to a man who never even wanted to be in the same vicinity as others if he could help it. Look. It was the first thing he thought of, okay!]
Do you have another way? Do you want... to be inside me?
[ This realm was PEACEFUL and TRANQUIL, but Jacopo can feel a familiar rise in delirium as Viktor starts posing solutions. There's an aneurysm ready to happen, though muted and distant.
He can watch Jacopo pinch his own nose bridge with his shadow-y silhouette. ]
Why does it have to be inside someone?! Can't we do something else? And not put me inside some person?
[ He knows Viktor is trying to help, but Christ. CHRIST. There's a sigh. ]
Let's just go. We can figure it out when we're there.
[ At least confident that Viktor will be able to sense his presence and he'll be around... Only because he once had an eldritch maid. ]
[Jacopo is still just as hilarious to rile up as before. He can find more amusement in it now having been removed from the overbearing servitude of the Hexcore. Good luck Jacopo.
He twists his hand around gently, getting Jacopo's rat paw in a leading fashion.]
Hopefully you don't disappear into the aether...
[Teasing.
He leads Jacopo away from the vigilant rock and tree, out toward the sea of wheat.]
So, tell me, what all happened since we last spoke, Jacopo?
[ Very soon he will come to learn the benefits of Viktor being fused with the hexcore... While unsettling, probably a lot less annoying. He follows his lead. ]
Then make sure to tether me and focus.
[ Sassy.
The golden ocean welcomes them, almost bending a path even though who knows how you get out of here. Maybe you just... Decide you want to leave, then you can. In a realm of emotions and memories, anything can happen, right? Jacopo goes a bit quiet as they talk about Morgana, heart still weighing heavy. ]
With Gabriel's help, I was able to find Morgana, but... She was in a similar state to how she died. She couldn't see anything past her delusions—the trauma left a deep wound down to her soul. I don't think my apology got through to her, but I did what I sought to do.
[Physically tethered by the hand and emotionally tethered by friendship. That's how this works.
He leads Jacopo amiably through the wheat while listening, not in a hurry, not searching for any intent. The core bobbing in the nodule carapace of the staff begins glowing gently, but Viktor's attention stays on Jacopo.
His brows furrow at the news. A woman truly deserves everlasting scorn and feminine rage (me, I think that).]
It's good you still offered it. Some wounds are difficult to heal, and the pain is hard to let go. It feels like a betrayal to yourself.
Jacopo stays quiet because... Seeing her like that hurt him. It did every single day when he went up the observation tower to draw her blood—and all for what? For power? For progress? To be... Worth something? The voices no longer haunt him, but the guilt is still there. This mirage full of golden wheat is created by regrets.
He has no right to wish he could save her then and even now... Closing his eyes, he focuses on the question. ]
... They are now. [ Skipping the parts that weren't all right, the results is what maters. There's a small smile, bittersweet but still ever so glad. ] An angel freed her.
[ And like the rest of them, but he doesn't really think about it like that. ]
[Hmm. Well, Viktor is stupid, but he also isn't a fool. There are things Jacopo isn't telling him, though he doesn't hold it against Jacopo for not being forthcoming.
They haven't seen each other in a while. Also, Jacopo is like That.
ALSO, JACOPO WAS OUT HERE IN MEMORY DREAM AFTERLIFE LAND AS A SHAPELESS AND SHADOWY VOID. You dumb Italian fuck!!!!!!!]
An angel?
[Jacopo probably doesn't have time to answer. That familiar, chilly energy churns up Jacopo's arm and over him; the core in the staff flashes blindingly white, consuming everything.
The safety of the wheat ocean is replaced by glimpses of a space of violet and halogen organic webs, of the endless dark ink of the universe peppered with gasses and stars. The very nature of Jacopo's soul shifts, is compressed, is expanded, pulled through the energy of a colander, wrought like spaghetti and put together again into the semblance of a shape.
Zaun has spilled over onto the lowest parts of Piltover, near the aqueducts and the docks. It isn't diseased, or filled with dirty violence. It is a charmingly antiquated aesthetic, not the middle ages for Jacopo, but maybe the turn of the 20th century, the early 20s, 30s. It's the beginnings of the Zaun which Ekko and Heimerdinger saw, the better timeline, clawing through.
People are coming and going, mingling at the connection between both places, and Viktor, still holding onto Jacopo's hand, anchors what's left of him to the plane.]
[ Rather than being reticent or avoidant, Jacopo simply doesn't think his suffering cycle is interesting or important to regale. It doesn't occur to his sick mind so desperate for atonement that he could receive comfort.
They're also going on a trip, so maybe later they can better catch up. ]
An angel.
[ Said in a more skeptical tone... Which simply implies it's a person rather than the divine, but there is something mystical about someone who breaks an internal curse.
Somehow, some way, his soul takes this world seamlessly even though it goes through the wringer between the dotted stars in the blotted void. It pulls from what it can and reconstructs him where the shape that feels like a hand becomes solid and undeniably tangible. Warm, with a pulse.
The shadows are gone, unveiling a familiar man though dressed for the occasion. Do not ask me why they are/were both brunettes with a red tie and a button up vest. ]
This is Zaun?
[ Distracted instead by what he sees than how he incarnated. His eyes glaze along the architecture, at most familiar with the 1860s which was a time of such an amalgamation of architecture. Greek revival, Gothic revival, Italianate, and specks of Victorian.
Zaun... Is quaint, he thinks. It's different from how he pictured, but that must be due to the carved path Viktor created. ]
[Two brunettes with red ties in a vest... They are the same person.
Viktor gives Jacopo time to become the form and settle in the form. He smiles slightly, amused at the way a soul remembers itself maybe.]
The start of it, yes.
[All sorts of people are coming and going in a place which has the energy of a market. Humans, a lot of them, but also animalistic humanoids, too. Large, small. Like cats, like birds, like sharks even. Robotics. Women, men, and children, too.
It's easy to see why they did not get along before, but it is also amazing to see them get along now.
For the time being, he does not move them from their little alcove or lead Jacopo anywhere else. He is rather famous, as much as he dislikes the recognition, and he knows people will interrupt them with greetings.]
You are looking more like yourself. Do you feel okay?
[ He won't be going on ahead without Viktor's guidance, so they have their peace in this little space. ]
A bit, yes.
[ There's still lingering resignation sewn in him, but it's alleviated bit by bit. It seems he incarnated in this world without a skip in rhythm. No one seems to notice how he suddenly appeared, fully-formed and all, but it may be because of the bustle.
He has gotten used to seeing different people thanks to the Metaphors, so he stays calm... There's something as comforting about a crowd, too. A thriving community, in a way a celebration of life.
It puts a smile on his face when he turns back to Viktor. ]
He glances out toward the crowd, expression somewhat fond. This is his own dream he never thought he would see, not ever, but especially not in his lifetime. Everything is so different than the way it had been before.]
Yes. It's the bridge between Piltover and Zaun.
[His fingers loosen; he lets Jacopo's hand go, but instead links their arms together at the elbow. Jacopo would be fine even getting lost in the crowd; however, Viktor doesn't want that to happen.]
Come. There is a lot more to see.
[He pulls Jacopo along with him out of the alcove and into the throng. Try not to de-particle on him.]
[ Sometimes you love seeing people thrive and living instead of surviving. Progress is beautiful thing... Even if it sometimes takes sacrifice. He doesn't naively think there aren't still problems, but what he sees around him is a promising start.
When he mentions Piltover, he does look over to the topside with some curiosity. His thoughts disperse when his attention is drawn back by unexpected touch.
They can hook arms though that catches him by surprise. Affection week isn't here to cushion his awkwardness yet he isn't so inclined to peel away. It'd be too easy to get lost to this sea, though he's sure he can manage.
... But it has also been so long since he had physical contact with anyone. ]
Excited to show me some of your work? [ Teasing. ] You should take me your favorite spots.
[ Though Jacopo is one for important landmarks. Tourism... History... Culture... ]
[Being arm in arm keeps the two of them from being accosted, hilariously. People do recognize Viktor, but they merely nod, or offer him a greeting rather than stop him for a chat.]
I can, if you don't think you will be asleep.
[Maybe Jacopo won't be interested in the silly little science man's magically robotic projects.]
I know exactly the first place. I can take you to Piltover after.
[Going down into Zaun would have been questionable before. The pollution was far-reaching, though not as atrocious near the Lanes and the surface. It's even better now. Subterranean lights embedded in the earth guide their way. The sun leaves them, and the cool, dim world embraces the two of them.
Pipes run along beside them. The way thrums with magical energy, and it can be felt in the depths of their chest like drums. Bioluminescent plants sprout all around, a lot of them hiding away from the artificial lights.
The journey spills them out at the Lanes, of course. A suddenly populated collection of businesses where a bar sits almost at the center.]
[ arm hooking has gay? Jacopo watches as people recognize Viktor... Popular man. ]
You'd be doing a poor job as a guide if I find myself dozing off.
[ While a difficult man to impress, it shouldn't be hard when you come from a world where science meets magic. Innovation always gives a thrill.
It's good that Zaun has cleaned up or else Jacopo may complain about the air quality, even if it would be acceptable and better than the past. He takes solid steps without any hesitation, matching Viktor's rather confidently and sure. It's probably practiced, but his eyes are taking in the view in discreet sweeps. There is a small pause in footfalls when the magic resonates and reverbs.
... He shouldn't find it mystical after being in a murdergame and also remembering his own world's soul plane, but he does. Somehow, the sight of this district offers a sense similar to magic, too. ]
[Yeah, there goes those two big gays, walking along arm in arm.
Down in the Lanes, the vision of Hextech modifcation has dug in its roots. Rather than be healed and put together by an archaic unification, magic and technology has bee integrated into the places where the common man suffered: prosthetics, building material, ventilation and filtration.
Jacopo won't understand how different the air here has become now, how much cleaner the Undercity has been made. But that's okay.]
I grew up here.
[He gives Jacopo a wry, lopsided smile. Jacopo was in the slums, well, okay, so was Viktor! They both had shitty, stitched-together clothes! His arm pulls Jacopo away from the decision of the buildings and over to one of the stalls lining the street on the side.]
Before the dean of the academy in Piltover felt sorry enough for me to help me get accepted.
[Surprisingly - maybe not so surprisingly considering - there is a tall, broad... shark(?)-shaped... piscatorial(?)... man looming behind the stall. He has an eyepatch and also a piece of wood over one bicep which has several knives - knives? they are quite long to be knives, but he is a big guy - embedded in the surface. He greets Viktor with a guttural hoorah and a laugh.]
Your special, please.
[This is SUCH a way to introduce Jacopo to the Undercity.]
[ There should be a swell of pride that he wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Progress doesn't mean having to being to compare, but also ushering a new era where people don't need to know because they don't need to worry. ]
A fellow slum rat before you were snatched off the streets.
[ He has less reason to posture in a world not his own. They're two rodents who stumbled onto opportunity, which is different from the commonalities he found with others similar to himself. Other people were considered commonfolk, though maybe that is the lowest rung in their society.
... He can't ponder about those people he misses from Heaven, some he promised to see again, and how many years have passed. It has been centuries and he thinks about how they may have passed on so long ago without him knowing. His chest feels hollowed out, though there is a wish that they led happy and fulfilling lives. They'd be back in the afterlife, but how would he approach them after so long?
Fortunate that he's tugged away from his ready to stop existing emotions, though it's also a physical tug. He blinks a couple of times as he adjusts his vision and what is he looking at? He offers a nervous smile, not sure what to expect, while his eyes travel to see if anyone else has had something from this stall.
ANY? SIGN? TO INDICATE WHAT THIS IS? ]
Say... [ WARY ] What... Is this... Special?
[ His hooked arm kind of tries loosening. Just in case, you know? ]
[Just two rats from the streets together who got cured of their plagues. Very funny.
Viktor's arm locks its hook in, blocking Jacopo from escaping too quickly. WHERE ARE YOU SCAMPERING TO, JACOPO??
Viktor laughs quietly, reassuringly. The shark man just hehehes and turns around to throw something together which is hidden behind his bulk.]
It's alright. It's food, some of the best in Zaun. He has a specialty, and it's very good.
[RIP to Jacopo. Sidon really enjoyed this actually, but looking at the man making it and looking around, it isn't difficult to see why the Zora prince would. That's fine.]
Looks can be deceiving, no?
[With that said, the shark man turns back and drops a bowl onto the counter for them.
It is... a pile of fat, blue tentacles...? worms...? urchins...? smothered in a golden sauce.] Thank you, Jericho. [Viktor watches Jacopo, amused and expectant.]
[ Jacopo watches in anticipation and some horror because what is waiting for him? Is this a delicacy or is Viktor hoping to get a good laugh? ]
It can be, but you can't expect me to not be suspicious when you're obviously hiding—[ The bowl drops and Jacopo instantly shuts up in its presence. Holy shit. ] Your fingers... Like it isn't from lack of utensils. It's a custom?
[ As rude as he is, he isn't going to thrash about if it's a culture aspect. However, the expression on his face does show some dread.
He had pretended and lived such a dignified and pretentious life. Even when he was a peasant, he rid of himself the poor's way of speaking and leaned to being verbose instead in ambition of climbing the social ladder. Some of that front still lingers, but dwindled.
AGAIN, WHAT IF VIKTOR IS PROPPING HIM UP TO BE BULLIED. ]
It's a carpaccio of sorts? In a bowl.
[ He has not reached the age of poke bowls yet. Hovering over the bowl, he tries to get used to the contents and maybe get a whiff of any smell that isn't seafood. ]
Seafood is expensive... [ Luxuries. Slowly, slowly, he's warming up to the idea, but he can't imagine eating like this because ] Will you be releasing me from your little prison, Viktor?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ It really is coming together. The voice sounds almost identical to back then in its tone and pitch, the delivery candid and pointed. Still, at the edges there's weariness.
My god, did you cement they're just two rats holding paws in this golden wheat field? A haven for outcasts, misfits, strays, and likely rodents? He doesn't retract his hand, instead finding the confidence to hold onto it.
It's warm, comforting, and reminds him of short times of understanding. It's something he loathes to relinquish, but... That wasn't his choice. It's not a choice.
This dream is meant to be his last, but why is he holding on? Is it because this is the last he's holding on? The shadows make more of the silhouette, but features still blurry. ]
What? Did you want to go to town? We can.
no subject
Yes, thank you for that.
[For what it's worth, he's amused. He did say he appreciated Jacopo's unfaltering ability to be the most blunt bitch in the entire room. How can a man who spent so long pretending to be who he wasn't have such an uncanny talent for saying it like it is without thoughtful filter?
For a moment or two, he stands and holds Jacopo's hand in his own, mostly to give Jacopo the opportunity to pull away if wanted. His hold is pretty relentlessly solid, but he would not struggle to keep the hand if Jacopo decided against it.
Then, gently, he tugs on it to try coaxing the shadowy but clothed figure off the rock, to stand with him.]
It's time to be you again, Jacopo. I want to show you something.
[Don't think you can just abandon your existence and sit here forever on this rock in the sweetest place of a memory and pout and brood.]
no subject
They stand and it seems like he doesn't pull way. He decides it's fine to indulge. This is... A dream. The tug has him stand up and the shadows weave his silhouette. While still not clear, he is a solid outline. A void of a person.
Better than the start though. Viktor can easily tell when he turns his head, or when he looks at him, even though there are no features to read. ]
What is it? [ Some faint and slow curiosity, relearning what that felt like. ] You're not going to spring up an abrupt vow on me again, are you?
no subject
No. You are free of vows... for now.
[Once Jacopo is up, he takes a step back and pulls Jacopo forward just a little bit. Not going to let Jacopo sit on any more rocks, thank you.]
I want to show you Zaun. What it has become. But you have to be yourself in order to go.
[Not just a faceless soul sitting in a nice dream. It has already gotten better. He can see more of Jacopo now than he could before.]
Is that okay with you?
no subject
[ A dry tone. Wow... he is soooo bothered. But his tomb is beautiful, isn't it? It's peaceful, safe, and palatable for the final throes of a soul, but... Perhaps he was waiting for someone. For many people, maybe. For what, he isn't sure, but he isn't in the mind to dwell. Hasn't been since he had lived in this dream after his release.
So he's focused on Viktor, tilting his shadowy head as he's told to come to him beyond. ]
I can't just show up as I am. I have no physical form.
[ It isn't a no. He does want to see it... It must have changed from the descriptions Viktor painted for him before.
A detour would be nice? He's no longer shackled. ]
no subject
[But every time he paid a visit to the dream of a memory, he found it peacefully solitude, and he never knew whether to be happy Jacopo was not here - it meant Jacopo was alive? - or disappointed at not knowing how Jacopo was faring.]
I'm sure we can figure out something between the two of us.
[Hmmm.]
Perhaps we can borrow Jayce's body for a while and put you inside of it?
[They could do that, and it would be funny to see and hear Jayce and Jacopo argue endlessly in the same hulking form.]
no subject
[ Not begrudging, though a tinge morose.
Some memories echo through this illusionary world, reflecting off of the gold sea. It's the industrial age in a faraway country from his homeland, where he tries to maintain his hold on his family's syndicate while being a large investor in the transcontinental railroad. It's a tale of betrayal between friends, twisted by a curse put on him after his first death... A tale of miscommunication between lovers, twisted by the curse that exacerbated and magnified his shortcomings.
It's somehow two sides of a coin that he had done well for himself. He kept a hold of the mafia and held onto the title of capo, then died of old age. His personal life was full of failures, in comparison.
Similar fate in essence as his life in the Middle Ages.
He had anticipated another round of suffering, resigned and accepting, but he's left to be wayward. Waiting... But now he's given direction.
Except! This direction!! Sounds insane!!! Viktor can't see his expression, but maybe he can sense how dubious he is. He'll At least hear it. ]
... You mean to put me... Inside your partner's body? [ ??? ] I have to share a space with that guy?
[ Jacopo you barely know that dude why are you expressing dislike and judgment already ]
no subject
[He does want to hear what all happened to Jacopo. They can chat about timelines and reincarnation and everything in between.
Once they figure out the stupidity of putting Jacopo inside of Jayce's body.
JACOPO IS SO VALID IN THIS ASSESSMENT.]
Jayce is not so bad... not now.
[Not before. But there had been a time, a shard of it, where Jayce seemed unwell. (They are all fucking unwell.)
He is at least not so unwell he can't understand what this burden means to Jacopo, to a man who never even wanted to be in the same vicinity as others if he could help it. Look. It was the first thing he thought of, okay!]
Do you have another way? Do you want... to be inside me?
no subject
He can watch Jacopo pinch his own nose bridge with his shadow-y silhouette. ]
Why does it have to be inside someone?! Can't we do something else? And not put me inside some person?
[ He knows Viktor is trying to help, but Christ. CHRIST. There's a sigh. ]
Let's just go. We can figure it out when we're there.
[ At least confident that Viktor will be able to sense his presence and he'll be around... Only because he once had an eldritch maid. ]
no subject
He twists his hand around gently, getting Jacopo's rat paw in a leading fashion.]
Hopefully you don't disappear into the aether...
[Teasing.
He leads Jacopo away from the vigilant rock and tree, out toward the sea of wheat.]
So, tell me, what all happened since we last spoke, Jacopo?
no subject
Then make sure to tether me and focus.
[ Sassy.
The golden ocean welcomes them, almost bending a path even though who knows how you get out of here. Maybe you just... Decide you want to leave, then you can. In a realm of emotions and memories, anything can happen, right? Jacopo goes a bit quiet as they talk about Morgana, heart still weighing heavy. ]
With Gabriel's help, I was able to find Morgana, but... She was in a similar state to how she died. She couldn't see anything past her delusions—the trauma left a deep wound down to her soul. I don't think my apology got through to her, but I did what I sought to do.
no subject
[Physically tethered by the hand and emotionally tethered by friendship. That's how this works.
He leads Jacopo amiably through the wheat while listening, not in a hurry, not searching for any intent. The core bobbing in the nodule carapace of the staff begins glowing gently, but Viktor's attention stays on Jacopo.
His brows furrow at the news. A woman truly deserves everlasting scorn and feminine rage (me, I think that).]
It's good you still offered it. Some wounds are difficult to heal, and the pain is hard to let go. It feels like a betrayal to yourself.
Were things... alright, though?
no subject
Jacopo stays quiet because... Seeing her like that hurt him. It did every single day when he went up the observation tower to draw her blood—and all for what? For power? For progress? To be... Worth something? The voices no longer haunt him, but the guilt is still there. This mirage full of golden wheat is created by regrets.
He has no right to wish he could save her then and even now... Closing his eyes, he focuses on the question. ]
... They are now. [ Skipping the parts that weren't all right, the results is what maters. There's a small smile, bittersweet but still ever so glad. ] An angel freed her.
[ And like the rest of them, but he doesn't really think about it like that. ]
no subject
They haven't seen each other in a while. Also, Jacopo is like That.
ALSO, JACOPO WAS OUT HERE IN MEMORY DREAM AFTERLIFE LAND AS A SHAPELESS AND SHADOWY VOID. You dumb Italian fuck!!!!!!!]
An angel?
[Jacopo probably doesn't have time to answer. That familiar, chilly energy churns up Jacopo's arm and over him; the core in the staff flashes blindingly white, consuming everything.
The safety of the wheat ocean is replaced by glimpses of a space of violet and halogen organic webs, of the endless dark ink of the universe peppered with gasses and stars. The very nature of Jacopo's soul shifts, is compressed, is expanded, pulled through the energy of a colander, wrought like spaghetti and put together again into the semblance of a shape.
Zaun has spilled over onto the lowest parts of Piltover, near the aqueducts and the docks. It isn't diseased, or filled with dirty violence. It is a charmingly antiquated aesthetic, not the middle ages for Jacopo, but maybe the turn of the 20th century, the early 20s, 30s. It's the beginnings of the Zaun which Ekko and Heimerdinger saw, the better timeline, clawing through.
People are coming and going, mingling at the connection between both places, and Viktor, still holding onto Jacopo's hand, anchors what's left of him to the plane.]
no subject
They're also going on a trip, so maybe later they can better catch up. ]
An angel.
[ Said in a more skeptical tone... Which simply implies it's a person rather than the divine, but there is something mystical about someone who breaks an internal curse.
Somehow, some way, his soul takes this world seamlessly even though it goes through the wringer between the dotted stars in the blotted void. It pulls from what it can and reconstructs him where the shape that feels like a hand becomes solid and undeniably tangible. Warm, with a pulse.
The shadows are gone, unveiling a familiar man though dressed for the occasion. Do not ask me why they are/were both brunettes with a red tie and a button up vest. ]
This is Zaun?
[ Distracted instead by what he sees than how he incarnated. His eyes glaze along the architecture, at most familiar with the 1860s which was a time of such an amalgamation of architecture. Greek revival, Gothic revival, Italianate, and specks of Victorian.
Zaun... Is quaint, he thinks. It's different from how he pictured, but that must be due to the carved path Viktor created. ]
no subject
Viktor gives Jacopo time to become the form and settle in the form. He smiles slightly, amused at the way a soul remembers itself maybe.]
The start of it, yes.
[All sorts of people are coming and going in a place which has the energy of a market. Humans, a lot of them, but also animalistic humanoids, too. Large, small. Like cats, like birds, like sharks even. Robotics. Women, men, and children, too.
It's easy to see why they did not get along before, but it is also amazing to see them get along now.
For the time being, he does not move them from their little alcove or lead Jacopo anywhere else. He is rather famous, as much as he dislikes the recognition, and he knows people will interrupt them with greetings.]
You are looking more like yourself. Do you feel okay?
no subject
A bit, yes.
[ There's still lingering resignation sewn in him, but it's alleviated bit by bit. It seems he incarnated in this world without a skip in rhythm. No one seems to notice how he suddenly appeared, fully-formed and all, but it may be because of the bustle.
He has gotten used to seeing different people thanks to the Metaphors, so he stays calm... There's something as comforting about a crowd, too. A thriving community, in a way a celebration of life.
It puts a smile on his face when he turns back to Viktor. ]
It's quite a hub here already.
no subject
He glances out toward the crowd, expression somewhat fond. This is his own dream he never thought he would see, not ever, but especially not in his lifetime. Everything is so different than the way it had been before.]
Yes. It's the bridge between Piltover and Zaun.
[His fingers loosen; he lets Jacopo's hand go, but instead links their arms together at the elbow. Jacopo would be fine even getting lost in the crowd; however, Viktor doesn't want that to happen.]
Come. There is a lot more to see.
[He pulls Jacopo along with him out of the alcove and into the throng. Try not to de-particle on him.]
no subject
When he mentions Piltover, he does look over to the topside with some curiosity. His thoughts disperse when his attention is drawn back by unexpected touch.
They can hook arms though that catches him by surprise. Affection week isn't here to cushion his awkwardness yet he isn't so inclined to peel away. It'd be too easy to get lost to this sea, though he's sure he can manage.
... But it has also been so long since he had physical contact with anyone. ]
Excited to show me some of your work? [ Teasing. ] You should take me your favorite spots.
[ Though Jacopo is one for important landmarks. Tourism... History... Culture... ]
no subject
I can, if you don't think you will be asleep.
[Maybe Jacopo won't be interested in the silly little science man's magically robotic projects.]
I know exactly the first place. I can take you to Piltover after.
[Going down into Zaun would have been questionable before. The pollution was far-reaching, though not as atrocious near the Lanes and the surface. It's even better now. Subterranean lights embedded in the earth guide their way. The sun leaves them, and the cool, dim world embraces the two of them.
Pipes run along beside them. The way thrums with magical energy, and it can be felt in the depths of their chest like drums. Bioluminescent plants sprout all around, a lot of them hiding away from the artificial lights.
The journey spills them out at the Lanes, of course. A suddenly populated collection of businesses where a bar sits almost at the center.]
This is called the Lanes.
no subject
You'd be doing a poor job as a guide if I find myself dozing off.
[ While a difficult man to impress, it shouldn't be hard when you come from a world where science meets magic. Innovation always gives a thrill.
It's good that Zaun has cleaned up or else Jacopo may complain about the air quality, even if it would be acceptable and better than the past. He takes solid steps without any hesitation, matching Viktor's rather confidently and sure. It's probably practiced, but his eyes are taking in the view in discreet sweeps. There is a small pause in footfalls when the magic resonates and reverbs.
... He shouldn't find it mystical after being in a murdergame and also remembering his own world's soul plane, but he does. Somehow, the sight of this district offers a sense similar to magic, too. ]
You frequent here?
[ Gestures with a hand. Pick a place. ]
no subject
[Yeah, there goes those two big gays, walking along arm in arm.
Down in the Lanes, the vision of Hextech modifcation has dug in its roots. Rather than be healed and put together by an archaic unification, magic and technology has bee integrated into the places where the common man suffered: prosthetics, building material, ventilation and filtration.
Jacopo won't understand how different the air here has become now, how much cleaner the Undercity has been made. But that's okay.]
I grew up here.
[He gives Jacopo a wry, lopsided smile. Jacopo was in the slums, well, okay, so was Viktor! They both had shitty, stitched-together clothes! His arm pulls Jacopo away from the decision of the buildings and over to one of the stalls lining the street on the side.]
Before the dean of the academy in Piltover felt sorry enough for me to help me get accepted.
[Surprisingly - maybe not so surprisingly considering - there is a tall, broad... shark(?)-shaped... piscatorial(?)... man looming behind the stall. He has an eyepatch and also a piece of wood over one bicep which has several knives - knives? they are quite long to be knives, but he is a big guy - embedded in the surface. He greets Viktor with a guttural hoorah and a laugh.]
Your special, please.
[This is SUCH a way to introduce Jacopo to the Undercity.]
no subject
A fellow slum rat before you were snatched off the streets.
[ He has less reason to posture in a world not his own. They're two rodents who stumbled onto opportunity, which is different from the commonalities he found with others similar to himself. Other people were considered commonfolk, though maybe that is the lowest rung in their society.
... He can't ponder about those people he misses from Heaven, some he promised to see again, and how many years have passed. It has been centuries and he thinks about how they may have passed on so long ago without him knowing. His chest feels hollowed out, though there is a wish that they led happy and fulfilling lives. They'd be back in the afterlife, but how would he approach them after so long?
Fortunate that he's tugged away from his ready to stop existing emotions, though it's also a physical tug. He blinks a couple of times as he adjusts his vision and what is he looking at? He offers a nervous smile, not sure what to expect, while his eyes travel to see if anyone else has had something from this stall.
ANY? SIGN? TO INDICATE WHAT THIS IS? ]
Say... [ WARY ] What... Is this... Special?
[ His hooked arm kind of tries loosening. Just in case, you know? ]
no subject
Viktor's arm locks its hook in, blocking Jacopo from escaping too quickly. WHERE ARE YOU SCAMPERING TO, JACOPO??
Viktor laughs quietly, reassuringly. The shark man just hehehes and turns around to throw something together which is hidden behind his bulk.]
It's alright. It's food, some of the best in Zaun. He has a specialty, and it's very good.
[RIP to Jacopo. Sidon really enjoyed this actually, but looking at the man making it and looking around, it isn't difficult to see why the Zora prince would. That's fine.]
Looks can be deceiving, no?
[With that said, the shark man turns back and drops a bowl onto the counter for them.
It is... a pile of fat, blue tentacles...? worms...? urchins...? smothered in a golden sauce.] Thank you, Jericho. [Viktor watches Jacopo, amused and expectant.]
...You eat it with your fingers.
[As a helpful aside.]
no subject
It can be, but you can't expect me to not be suspicious when you're obviously hiding—[ The bowl drops and Jacopo instantly shuts up in its presence. Holy shit. ] Your fingers... Like it isn't from lack of utensils. It's a custom?
[ As rude as he is, he isn't going to thrash about if it's a culture aspect. However, the expression on his face does show some dread.
He had pretended and lived such a dignified and pretentious life. Even when he was a peasant, he rid of himself the poor's way of speaking and leaned to being verbose instead in ambition of climbing the social ladder. Some of that front still lingers, but dwindled.
AGAIN, WHAT IF VIKTOR IS PROPPING HIM UP TO BE BULLIED. ]
It's a carpaccio of sorts? In a bowl.
[ He has not reached the age of poke bowls yet. Hovering over the bowl, he tries to get used to the contents and maybe get a whiff of any smell that isn't seafood. ]
Seafood is expensive... [ Luxuries. Slowly, slowly, he's warming up to the idea, but he can't imagine eating like this because ] Will you be releasing me from your little prison, Viktor?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)