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[manifestering]

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[computation]

Hi, Octavian.

I need your help with something.

[manifestering]

Hello
What do you need
?

And
Are you well
?

[Cool Manners! (tm)]

[computation]

A little lonely, but I'm coping. Great job with the normal social protocol!

I'm going to try to help the A.I. perform its hard reset, but we need to find its terminals first. Think you'd be up for a ghostly scouting mission?

[computation]

Turns out the world didn't end.

You still looking for a blood donor?

[manifestering]

Neither a bang nor a whimper indeed

Yes and always

[computation]

For making a flesh vessel, right? I could use a distraction. And you were gonna show me some alchemy.

[ Someone did, in fact, read his thread with Charles. ]

the great workshop search

[runeing]

[ it isn't like viktor expects anything different, but still it takes him longer than he would like, to make it to the address octavian gives him. there are no carriages to call — not that he'd ever done that much in piltover, either, not when so much of his life there had revolved around the workshop and the short walk to his apartment to sleep before leaving again in the morning — or, more often than not, a long evening turning into a longer night and some few hours of sleep in the workshop.

the workshop. he isn't sure what he is aiming to find, here; certainly nothing like his and jayce's shared space back in his homeworld. he isn't even sure if wanting one is borne out of a genuine belief he can achieve something worthwhile, here, or if it's nothing more than a futile attempt to find something familiar, his mind reaching for something comforting when his surroundings are all full of strangeness.

still, whatever the reason... doesn't mean he can't try and find a space, regardless. and he is grateful he doesn't have to embark on the search alone. ]

Hello? [ he knocks on the door of the building he was directed to, calling out with a hesitant note to his voice. ]

Octavian? It is Viktor. I am here, as promised. [ it is only after speaking that he realises that his voice may not carry to inside the house, which makes him feel rather foolish. ]

i'm here

[manifestering]

[The house Octavian sends Viktor to is out on the fringes of the city, not technically in a neighborhood; it was abandoned before he'd wandered into it early in his stay, and he prefers it that way. Privacy, quiet—valuable qualities for a house to have, primarily because he doesn't like to be distracted. But it was still abandoned: the outside of it looks a bit worn down, weeds and errant vines reclaiming the edges of it, but what is he supposed to do about that? Garden? He's delicate, besides the obvious.

Still, he is expecting a visitor, and so if he's been loitering near the front door for a while, no he hasn't, that's not weird at all. It's enough that he can hear Viktor, and with some effort opens the door to peer around it at him. Hey.]

Hello. Good to see you again. With fewer mirrors. [Ha ha, remember that!! He says it like that's a funny inside joke they have, watching infinite trauma reels. It almost was.

They could just immediately head out for real estate, but they could also... make some spreadsheets about real estate, first, so he drags the door open further. The room beyond is a lot less dusty than it was, but it's still carelessly furnished, like maybe he had to ask some locals to put furniture in here and he was unspecific about where the chairs were supposed to go. The far wall with a desk and a smattering of lab supplies is both the tidiest and covered in chalk scribbles of various equations. Welcome.]

Would you sit for a moment. We can discuss.

[runeing]

[ the house looks... a little rough, yes, especially by piltover standards — but by undercity standards, it is just fine. the weeds and vines would be welcome in zaun, a sign of life, and so viktor doesn't mind them at all; not that he would, otherwise, either. a house is functional when it is standing and doesn't let in too much cold; the rest is incidental.

the door opens, and the side of viktor's mouth tilts up just slightly. ]

Yes, the lack of mirrors is an upside. [ it really is, though, he doesn't miss the trauma reels. as octavian pulls the door open enough for him to step inside, he nods, his crutch clanking against the floor as he walks in, looks around to take in the haphazardly positioned furniture, the multitude of equations. (he looks at one of these longer than the other.)

a nod, then, as he finds the chair nearest to the desk and sits down carefully. ] Thank you. For your offer to help. I was prepared to look for a space on my own, but... your insight will be valuable. [ since he suspects their interests are similar enough that octavian might know a place, or where they should start to look for one in any case, and so he doesn't have to wander around blindly. ]

blood donation........ this is a great idea surely

[skelters]

[ it's not difficult to find octavian's place, thanks to the handy map ping that he's sent vash - and not minding the general state of ... well, not quite being in A Neighbourhood, per se. he is used to it - in fact, his own cottage is also more on the outskirt side too, not smack bang in the middle of all the hustling cityside ... so!

if he is listening out for it, vash approaching the house is enough a knock on its own, all clattering footfalls as he cheerily makes his way up the pathway and up to the door, giving a smart little rapping with his knuckles while calling the other's name. if there's a doorbell, he'd have pressed it twenty times by now. i'm really sorry.

all in all, he seems much too cheery for someone who's about to donate a whole lotta (unspecified) blood ... ]

Hello, Octavian!! It's Vash! You in there??

What Could Go Wrong

[manifestering]

[Octavian's place is out of the way on purpose, and a little run down as a result of the first thing; the front of the house seems to sag just a bit, and veins of vines trail all over it except for the windows, the only place he's put in the effort to keep weeded. There is a light on inside, and Octavian answers the door not long after Vash's actual knock.

With some effort, of course. But he prefers to keep small "living" habits in his day to day, like answering the door instead of just leaving it unlocked. It's small, but he needs that. Anyway,]

Where else would I be, [he says, like, silly man, he barely leaves this tired old building. He steps back, pulling the door open wider.] Come in. You should sit.

[The room within is most of the house, a sitting room with some mismatched armchairs and a low table divided from the workspace on the other side mostly by which direction the chairs are facing. It's tired in here, too, but not as rough as the outside of the house; it was, but he's been here long enough for it to bother him, so he's made it look tidier. More livable.

The workspace contains a desk and a stool, a smattering of equally mismatched lab equipment, a... mini fridge... and much of its surfaces (desk, wall, even actual pieces of paper) are scribbled all over with notes and diagrams and runes. In chalk, which there is plenty of.

Welcome. Hi. Sit.]

[skelters]

Haha, well ... you know! Just in case you forgot!

[ vash steps in before looking around at the sitting room, being quite undisguised in his curiosity at just how octavian keeps his place; sure, it's a bit run down - could do with a really good dusting, maybe, but it's cosy and lived in - his various lab equipment laid out haphazard over the desk (and everywhere else, lets be real) in a way that makes it seem a lot nicer than his own place. ]

This is nice. Do you do all your work in here?

[ he carefully picks his way through the chalk marks towards the chairs, and sits down on one of them. ]

HOLIDAY GIFT

[skelters]

[ PRESENT AHOY!

some time this week, octavian will find a CUTELY WRAPPED BOX (the wrapping paper is ... christmas ghosties ... look it writes itself) delivered to his doorstep, along with a card written in surprisingly neat cursive.]

Dear Octavian,
I am so thankful that you are part of my life and that we get to spend this holiday season together.
I hope your Yuletide is as happy as the happiness you bring me! :-)
-Vash

[ inside the box, he will find some holiday themed aldrip equivalent lego kits!

enjoy!!!! ]

un: viktor

[runeing]

[ once again, a message without any preambles, one that he places underneath an encryption so that even if someone were to try and look into octavian's private messages, they wouldn't easily get through this one. ]

I promised to show you a hexgem, and now I can. However... before then, I do have a favour to ask. Quite a big one.

[manifestering]

[Octavian is himself preoccupied today with his own new discovery—some of which has been standing in doorways feeling old emotions he really does not care for, some of which has been hunched over an old desk fiddling with a few basic tools. If he can convince his new hands to act with more precision than they're inclined to in this rudimentary form, then...

He's in this phase of his exploration of the new building when Viktor messages him, and while he takes the time to stop and read it because it's from Viktor, he is equally inclined to get to the point, so his reply is a simple and straightforward:]

Looking forward to it

Ask

[runeing]

It wasn't only the crystal that I received, but something else, too. An adaptive rune matrix. One that should never have been created.

I need somewhere to keep it. My lab is... not safe. It needs to be away from me, away from everyone from Runeterra. Safe and secret.

I couldn't think of anyone else to ask.

[ no one else he trusts enough to do so, really. ]

backdated to root's dec 20 network post;

[incorrigibles]

why did you never tell me you became a thief???

or is root pulling my leg

oh charles

[manifestering]

Oh
No that is true
A gang of miscreants liberated me from the place I was murdered in
In exchange for my help

shh this is vitally important uncle lore

[incorrigibles]

oh

well

i mean that's right good of them and all, real chuffed you got out of there

what do they need your help with?

here for wobbles--

[runeing]

[ it feels good, to work together. also good to be elsewhere than his lab —
not a sentiment viktor would have expected to feel, even some months ago, but his blood still mars the side of the table where he collapsed, and in the small hours of the night when he should be fully focused on his work, the walls seem to fall in on themselves, suffocating him just like his lungs did —

it is better, with octavian. they find quickly that working together is just as easy as being together; they think along similar lines, their areas of expertise overlapping and yet also complimenting each other, and while viktor is prone to being somewhat more reckless with things such as lab safety, octavian balances him perfectly.

besides, this way he is here already when they eventually take breaks, sit on the couch together, hands clasped together, heads leaning against each other.

now, though, is no time to rest; now is for viktor frowning over the final set of runes (a combination of both hextech and octavian's runes) that is required for the maneuverability of the little robot. the last time he tried to change the combination, it teleported the poor little robot from one side of the room to the other — he'd hastily scrubbed away the acceleration rune entirely. ]

What do you think? Does this look... right? [ octavian has, during their time working together, absorbed enough of hextech theory for viktor to trust him to be able to speak on this just as confidently as he himself would. ]

long live wobbles

[manifestering]

[Having a project besides the usual has been a great boon for Octavian's mood, generally speaking; Viktor helps, of course, Viktor is an even greater boon for his mood, but for the first time in a long time he feels, hm, productive? Working on something that has an achievable goal in sight within a reasonable time frame— oh, it's like being young again, good gracious.

So building this little construct has been fun. As has learning about the hextech theory, and comparing it to his own knowledge of runes and what they can do. He hovers over Viktor's shoulder, watching, and leans his hands on those shoulders when it's time to peer at the runework. Viktor is within touching distance; he can't resist.

Peering—]

Hmm. I daresay you have done it.

[A little squeeze, not too celebratory, just in case they have another teleporting incident. Not that it wasn't, hm, funny, but still.]

Shall we activate?

[runeing]

[ the hands on his shoulders make him smile as he turns his head to look at octavian — and at those words, that little squeeze, he lifts his hand and places it over top of one of octavian's. ]

We have done it, [ he corrects, because even if his handiwork is the latest correction, ultimately, this belongs to both of them equally. ]

You should do the honours.

[ he moves his hand, to reach for the hextech gemstone, holding it up for octavian to take. ]

after the canon updateing,

[runeing]

[ there is no warning.

not like the time he'd succumbed to his illness — this time one moment he is there and the next he is gone. and days pass, a total of eight of them, until he finds himself back in aldrip... though changed. the memories return to him in increments: of the simulation, of the people there, of octavian most importantly of all. it is shrapnel inside him, the realisation of what he had forgotten, that he might have been gone for who knows how long, that either octavian has been left there, unknowing of his fate... or he, too, is gone, and viktor will not have even got to say goodbye.

he wouldn't hold it against you, sky says, and viktor nods. he knows; but it doesn't mean he himself wouldn't do so.

he doesn't even spare time to send octavian a message; instead, he heads over to his house immediately. once he gets there, it is wobbles who lets him in — whether the hextech in the little robot responds to him, whether it is simply a stroke of luck, he doesn't know... but he crouches down regardless, right there in the small entryway, places his hand on wobbles' head and murmurs his thanks.

he doesn't think what a strange sight he must make, a slim figure in a dark hood and a staff wrought with magic, his metallic hand on the little robot veined with gold and faintly glowing purple — but the moment he feels the air move (or hears footsteps, if octavian is inhabiting his body at the moment), he looks up. ]

... Octavian. [ yes, there is no doubt about it — there is a wave of emotions crashing over him, a myriad of them, and he focuses to pick out every single one carefully, turns them over inside his head, examines them. relief, guilt, affection. something more complex, too — something he remembers never quite speaking of, before, like it had been too heavy for words to carry. ]

[manifestering]

[In the end, Octavian can't bring himself to set another timer. When Viktor disappears with no warning it feels worse somehow than when he'd died, the unknowns of it following Octavian around like a fog. Wobbles also follows him around, whirring at him occasionally, and that's very sweet, but he hasn't the energy to pay much attention to the little robot. He's busy sulking, and occasionally telling people to get over themselves on the network, which is part coping and part genuine advice—

(If Viktor doesn't return, he wonders what he should do with that thing in the safe; let it loose on the simulation, out of spite? No, he wouldn't— but he'll fantasize about it for an afternoon or two, just because.)

He's at his little work desk in the house tinkering with odds and ends when Wobbles wanders away from him, and he doesn't think anything of it until he hears the door open. Then he gets up to go see what's going on. God, if his metal son is just letting people into the house now, that's a bug—

Oh.]

Viktor.

[Octavian is unchanged as ever, as he always will be; it could have been a week or a month or longer, here in Aldrip, for how many clues he gives off himself. Viktor has seen time, he notes, and he remembers the talks they've had about what Viktor had learned will happen to him, from those people from his home... Is this that?

More importantly, does it matter? Viktor is here, and Octavian crosses over and drops to his knees next to him and Wobbles with a dull thud- the body, today, indeed- reaching out a hand to skim over Viktor's on the little robot. Then up his arm, to his jaw, his cheek— Viktor is here and he's real, not some sort of Aldrip cruelty. Octavian smiles his small, crooked smile. Hey.]

Welcome back.

[runeing]

[ there is nothing to indicate how long it has been — octavian looks the same as ever, of course, and as his hand travels up his arm, to finally cup his cheek, viktor hopes that it has not been long. as before, he'd been entirely unable to miss him... and yet, he can't help but wonder if there hadn't been a part of him that had done so, quite without his knowledge. if his absence hadn't been right there, in the core of him, pushing him out onto the streets, to seek what he didn't even know was missing.

softly, viktor lifts his own hand and mirrors octavian, running his fingers gently up his arm, pushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear, before pressing his palm against his cheek. then, turning towards him like a plant towards light, he leans forward to press their foreheads together — octavian will not know the significance of this zaunite tradition, of course, but the deep affection and love it signifies... perhaps he will be able to feel it through the gesture. ]

I was not complete, without you.

[ he brushes his thumb over octavian's cheekbone. ]

I am sorry to have left you. Thank you for waiting for me.