[ 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?
The docks are not very far if you want to go later.
[JACOPO IS SO SUSPICIOUS IT'S SO FUNNY!!! Viktor laughs quietly again and loosens his arm from around Jacopo's own. He motions to the warbled wooden stool by the counter, then he takes a seat on the adjacent one.]
It may have been from lack of utensils a long time ago, but now it's a custom. I'll join you. I have to eat now, at least.
[Amazing.
To Jericho:] Some rice and ale, please. [Jacopo is a wine kind of guy, but wine is more of a Piltover sort of beverage. They'll get to that.]
This was my favorite as a child. A treat. Back then, you could taste the zing of pollutant iron in it, but now it's fresh and fine to eat.
[ Jacopo's incredulous expression softens to something resigned and mildly interested. He enjoys... The waters... As someone who's from Sicily, now knowing he's from Sicily and actually remembering his home. Viktor is also reassuring him, though he shoots him a quick leer like "if you trick me then i will remember this" because Viktor did become sassy to him all of the sudden in turbo.
He sets himself onto the stool provided for him, now arms free to brace—support himself through these times. ]
That thing sustained you to the level where you didn't need to eat? [ In Heaven, the rest of them still did, though. Huh. ] I would like to save stomach space in case there are more eateries or stalls you want to show me, so you better eat your share.
[ Can't give up food when visiting a place, even though when he's working he will think of food as nothing more than sustenance. The dichotomy of having tastes and lacking a work-life divide. Jacopo doesn't seem to complain about the alcohol choice at all, despite being pretentious and prissy.
The mention of pollutant minerals gets a raise of his eyebrows like "do not be nostalgic for that," but nothing he isn't used to. When you're poor, you're poor, and he already picked a tentacle and ate it. ]
[WOW. Listen. He won't sully Zaun's good name, but he may bring the sass back when they're in Piltover later... Someone has to give Jacopo a little hell. He didn't think he could simply reincarnate into another world and escape being bullied, did he?]
It transmuted my body in a way to make it more perfect; it stripped it of what it thought was logically unnecessary for perfection. Like eating. Like reproductive parts. Like sleeping.
[Sorry, he was definitely a HORROR. Jacopo was right.]
We can get some sweet milk from The Last Drop when we're finished.
[He scoops up one of the tendrils of meat as the rice and drinks come. The rice has a fork! But just one; unfortunately for Jacopo, he will have to indirect kiss. He "cheers" Jacopo with the meat before he slides it into his mouth. SEE, HE WASN'T BEING MEAN.]
[ Jacopo would have back in the day because then he could just keep working, but he remembers how Viktor was... How muted he seemed. He didn't undergo such change from outside influence, but he sort of understands changing for the worse. Depression can make you feel alien in the sea of people.
He was a solitary man before, but it was even more isolating after... So. Cheers. Meat touch meat. ]
But I like you better now. You were kind of creepy before.
[ In a place where Viktor can let people in and be simply himself. At this point, he's idly eating. How long has it been since he had food? When you're just a wayward soul, you don't need that.
He doesn't mind sharing, so when the flavor coats his mouth too much he'll have a forkful of rice. ]
[Yes, but who really is still alive and also here to bully him except Viktor? Okay. Don't just write sad as hell prose about all his friends being dead and think I won't forget it.]
I had not seen the wrong in it either, [after waiting to swallow,] but now I know better.
[People would be stupid to kill for it. It hadn't been as perfect as he thought. Not eating, not sleeping, not feeling anything at all whether physically or emotionally - what point was there in living then?]
I see you really haven't lost your brutal honesty.
[Jacopo just takes pot-shots at him all the time, damn. (He isn't wrong.) Viktor smiles ever so slightly.]
It is. Many topsiders let the look scare them from trying it.
[They can be foolish if they want. More for them.]
[ I was going to say he had so few friends from turbo, but it doesn't change the fact that he had nothing when he died and now he has nothing because i wrote them dead. LISTEN HERE, IT HAS BEEN A THOUSAND YEARS. WHAT IS HE SUPPOSED TO ASSUME? ]
It would not be a very good alien overlord if you were able to discern right and wrong very easily. [ A snort as he drinks the ale, easing it in without any judgment. Even if it isn't quality liquor, he can appreciate it. It's going back to roots. ] I can't have you becoming too soft.
[ There's a sly smile, so familiar but it still lacks the same amount of shit-eating. It isn't near smarmy enough, but perhaps that takes time. At least he hasn't forgotten the shape and the motions.
Brutally honest when it doesn't matter, roundabout when it does, a little aggressive when he tries to do good, and still a bitch. Jacopo Bearzatti, you are so fucking stupid. ]
My only complaint is that I don't like it dripping off my fingers...
[ He feels like... He's going to get things dirty. ]
[It feels rude to shit-talk the magical alien orb in the staff which has been leaned between his leg and his arm and his front. Almost like it will hear them and seek revenge.
But he laughs some at how little Jacopo continues to care about saying it like it is - with other people.]
That's the best part, Jacopo. You get to suck the flavor and the sauce off your fingers.
[Here. He takes another of the pieces and eats it, then stick each finger in his mouth to rid them of the golden juices.
He at least didn't grab Jacopo's hand and do it himself just to shittily see if Jacopo would sink into the floor out of embarrassed humiliation, so be thankful.]
[ Jacopo would flip off the magical alien orb regardless of how much power it holds... Fuck you. But don't seek revenge. They are too tired to deal with an eldritch tantrum again.
Obviously, he grimaces with gritted teeth showing, not looking forward to that. It does beat having dirty fingers, though? But instead it's coated with saliva? Are there no napkins or towels? You just WANT HIM TO DIE? Oh my god why would you even pose that possibility, hE WOULD
DIE
AND CALL VIKTOR A FREAK while pulling his hand away. FUCK. VIKTOR IS ALREADY ATTACKING HIM FOR HIS FAKE STATUS. ]
Shut up.
[ Suddenly, he's stubborn and obstinate, but he keeps eating. Does he lap up the sauce from his hand and fingers yet? No. But is he requesting a napkin? No. ]
[Jacopo is so lucky he is normal now and does not have the same detachment to his emotions, or he would have done that.
He laughs, quiet but genuine. JACOPO IS A CLOWN AND SO FUNNY!!!!! From out of one of his pockets, he pulls a handkerchief with his clean hand and offers it to Jacopo.
Here, princess. It's nothing fancy. Very simply, much like Viktor (excluding the science).]
It isn't sticky, at least. We can rinse them after.
[ He would punch you, Viktor... At least ask first, dumbass....... Even if he would outright reject.
A leer is pinned onto Viktor as Jacopo continues to eat, then flickers to the handkerchief. A simple handkerchief should earn gratitude, but it doesn't. He's glowering at it, too. ]
That's one blessing.
[ Do not stare at him as he finally licks off the sauce from his dirty hand. There's a desire to turn slightly so that no one has to see him, just because of learned propriety, but there's so much defiance to be casual about it. ]
So what's this about sweet milk?
[ Tell him more now that his desire to fight you has simmered. ]
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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.]
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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? ]
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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.]
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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?
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[JACOPO IS SO SUSPICIOUS IT'S SO FUNNY!!! Viktor laughs quietly again and loosens his arm from around Jacopo's own. He motions to the warbled wooden stool by the counter, then he takes a seat on the adjacent one.]
It may have been from lack of utensils a long time ago, but now it's a custom. I'll join you. I have to eat now, at least.
[Amazing.
To Jericho:] Some rice and ale, please. [Jacopo is a wine kind of guy, but wine is more of a Piltover sort of beverage. They'll get to that.]
This was my favorite as a child. A treat. Back then, you could taste the zing of pollutant iron in it, but now it's fresh and fine to eat.
It tastes like... lobster actually, in a way.
[Just so Jacopo knows he isn't hazing him.]
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He sets himself onto the stool provided for him, now arms free to brace—support himself through these times. ]
That thing sustained you to the level where you didn't need to eat? [ In Heaven, the rest of them still did, though. Huh. ] I would like to save stomach space in case there are more eateries or stalls you want to show me, so you better eat your share.
[ Can't give up food when visiting a place, even though when he's working he will think of food as nothing more than sustenance. The dichotomy of having tastes and lacking a work-life divide. Jacopo doesn't seem to complain about the alcohol choice at all, despite being pretentious and prissy.
The mention of pollutant minerals gets a raise of his eyebrows like "do not be nostalgic for that," but nothing he isn't used to. When you're poor, you're poor, and he already picked a tentacle and ate it. ]
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It transmuted my body in a way to make it more perfect; it stripped it of what it thought was logically unnecessary for perfection. Like eating. Like reproductive parts. Like sleeping.
[Sorry, he was definitely a HORROR. Jacopo was right.]
We can get some sweet milk from The Last Drop when we're finished.
[He scoops up one of the tendrils of meat as the rice and drinks come. The rice has a fork! But just one; unfortunately for Jacopo, he will have to indirect kiss. He "cheers" Jacopo with the meat before he slides it into his mouth. SEE, HE WASN'T BEING MEAN.]
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People would kill for that.
[ Jacopo would have back in the day because then he could just keep working, but he remembers how Viktor was... How muted he seemed. He didn't undergo such change from outside influence, but he sort of understands changing for the worse. Depression can make you feel alien in the sea of people.
He was a solitary man before, but it was even more isolating after... So. Cheers. Meat touch meat. ]
But I like you better now. You were kind of creepy before.
[ In a place where Viktor can let people in and be simply himself. At this point, he's idly eating. How long has it been since he had food? When you're just a wayward soul, you don't need that.
He doesn't mind sharing, so when the flavor coats his mouth too much he'll have a forkful of rice. ]
This is quite good, actually.
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I had not seen the wrong in it either, [after waiting to swallow,] but now I know better.
[People would be stupid to kill for it. It hadn't been as perfect as he thought. Not eating, not sleeping, not feeling anything at all whether physically or emotionally - what point was there in living then?]
I see you really haven't lost your brutal honesty.
[Jacopo just takes pot-shots at him all the time, damn. (He isn't wrong.) Viktor smiles ever so slightly.]
It is. Many topsiders let the look scare them from trying it.
[They can be foolish if they want. More for them.]
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It would not be a very good alien overlord if you were able to discern right and wrong very easily. [ A snort as he drinks the ale, easing it in without any judgment. Even if it isn't quality liquor, he can appreciate it. It's going back to roots. ] I can't have you becoming too soft.
[ There's a sly smile, so familiar but it still lacks the same amount of shit-eating. It isn't near smarmy enough, but perhaps that takes time. At least he hasn't forgotten the shape and the motions.
Brutally honest when it doesn't matter, roundabout when it does, a little aggressive when he tries to do good, and still a bitch. Jacopo Bearzatti, you are so fucking stupid. ]
My only complaint is that I don't like it dripping off my fingers...
[ He feels like... He's going to get things dirty. ]
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But he laughs some at how little Jacopo continues to care about saying it like it is - with other people.]
That's the best part, Jacopo. You get to suck the flavor and the sauce off your fingers.
[Here. He takes another of the pieces and eats it, then stick each finger in his mouth to rid them of the golden juices.
He at least didn't grab Jacopo's hand and do it himself just to shittily see if Jacopo would sink into the floor out of embarrassed humiliation, so be thankful.]
Do you need a napkin, lordling?
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Obviously, he grimaces with gritted teeth showing, not looking forward to that. It does beat having dirty fingers, though? But instead it's coated with saliva? Are there no napkins or towels? You just WANT HIM TO DIE? Oh my god why would you even pose that possibility, hE WOULD
DIE
AND CALL VIKTOR A FREAK while pulling his hand away. FUCK. VIKTOR IS ALREADY ATTACKING HIM FOR HIS FAKE STATUS. ]
Shut up.
[ Suddenly, he's stubborn and obstinate, but he keeps eating. Does he lap up the sauce from his hand and fingers yet? No. But is he requesting a napkin? No. ]
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He laughs, quiet but genuine. JACOPO IS A CLOWN AND SO FUNNY!!!!! From out of one of his pockets, he pulls a handkerchief with his clean hand and offers it to Jacopo.
Here, princess. It's nothing fancy. Very simply, much like Viktor (excluding the science).]
It isn't sticky, at least. We can rinse them after.
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A leer is pinned onto Viktor as Jacopo continues to eat, then flickers to the handkerchief. A simple handkerchief should earn gratitude, but it doesn't. He's glowering at it, too. ]
That's one blessing.
[ Do not stare at him as he finally licks off the sauce from his dirty hand. There's a desire to turn slightly so that no one has to see him, just because of learned propriety, but there's so much defiance to be casual about it. ]
So what's this about sweet milk?
[ Tell him more now that his desire to fight you has simmered. ]
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