There is an element of personal risk And personal nonexistence Meaning no offense but I will not die again for any of you So how long would you need me to do it ?
Is it the pain you're afraid of? Nobody dies here permanently. You'll just respawn. But you can take whatever risks you want or don't want to take if you're willing to scout.
That's sweet of you, but I don't mind temporarily expiring if it gets the job done.
[ Root experienced extreme torture for the sake of her mission within a week of accepting it; she's not going to flinch from something she knows is functionally without consequence apart from the pain she herself experiences. ]
That is your prerogative But if it is avoidable Please do not commit too much self-sacrifice
[The two schools of thought he's been presented with so far are this ("you come right back so why not") and "you just hang around a little and then move on when you die," and he doesn't really like either of them. Dying is terrifying and being moved on is worse, surely someone out there will agree with him.
Good question. I assumed, perhaps naively, that a terminal would look like a terminal. It has to allow direct access into the code that operates our environment, so it will be an input method even if it takes an unusual form.
I just didn't realize alchemy was so chemistry-adjacent. I'm pretty good with explosives already. But always open to learning more from a qualified expert.
Perhaps it will make some kind of noise A signal to communicate with the others Possibly not a noise after all
Oh Yes Rather symbiotic almost But again yes I am much better at the mechanics as my alchemical research is highly specialized And I have not made anything fun in a while
Absolutely. If I can come up with the method and send you some plans, think you could build at least five real fast? I'm only decent with physical engineering.
I was liberated Technically I was stolen There was a heist and I made myself part of the bounty in exchange for my assistance with the security system as it was one of mine Terribly out of date
[It takes him a moment to realize how she's come across that particular tidbit, not that he's made any efforts to hide it; but he did tell Charles he didn't suspect anyone would bother to read his network conversations, so:]
I stand corrected However Yes for the vessel and the alchemy
So do you. If you want help making a body, I'm in. I'm free any time, trust me.
[ Once Root decides she likes someone, she isn't shy in the least about sharing it. She hadn't realized at first that Octavian isn't comfortable in his status as a ghost, but she sure has been stalking network conversations and has since learned his displeasure with it. Which means she'll support his plans to fix it. ]
[The "so do you" gives him pause, in a way that he logically knows it probably shouldn't. It isn't as if he lacks the self-esteem to consider himself worthy of better, quite the opposite, he's owed quite a few things— But he has been owed them in solitude for so long, it surprises him every time she or anyone else takes a vested interest. In thirty years it's happened only once, before coming to this place.
He'll adjust. Probably.]
The road is long Allegedly the journey is just as valuable as the destination Which is to say Thank you I will send you a list of supplies I am missing If you would be so kind
[ She doesn't take it for granted, at least -- finding an ally, a possible friend. It's the rarest thing in the world for Root. For all she can fake any social interaction to a tee, the number of people who want to spend time with her willingly, as she is, is vanishingly rare in her life. She values it tremendously.
And she's the type of ally, and friend, who doesn't need to agree with someone else's plans to support them. Doesn't need to know all the details. That type of unconditional faith comes naturally to her. ]
Doesn't seem like we have much else to do stuck here in simulation purgatory. I don't mind a goal, even if it's a personal one.
[How quaint! But he sends along a location ping to an out of the way house. Whenever she does inevitably arrive, it's a bit dilapidated and dusty and vine-covered, but he likes it for the out of the way aspect.]
[ Christmas counts as archaic to the alchemist ghost? Root has so many questions, but mostly she pencils in her intent to troll him with Christmas gifts.
She doesn't have a single criticism about his hideout, not when it's practical, not when he's already dead. Root enters with a spring in her step and a bag slung over her shoulder like she's a particularly merciless version of Santa. She's wearing fake glasses and a lab coat over bland professional clothes and sensible boots. ]
Is this a real haunted house or what? [ she calls out by way of greeting. ] I heard there was a ghost here.
[ 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. ]
[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.]
[ 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. ]
[Luckily, Octavian's little home doesn't contain a single mirror outside of the magnifying kind, for his lab equipment; what would he need one for? He doesn't change. They are free from trauma reels for the time being.
With some effort he shuts the door before drifting over towards Viktor; he doesn't sit, but makes the pretense of leaning his arm on the back of one of the other chairs out of habit.]
I have been looking into spaces where I am able.
[Again, sometimes making doors obey him is too much trouble, and he has a completely rational fear of having to phase through anything like his ghostly form might suggest he can with ease. That's not relevant to the search for real estate, though, so,]
We should begin with your nonnegotiable requirements. I would hate to waste our time.
Have you? [ genuine confusion enters his tone for a moment; friendly gestures still throw him for a loop, especially ones offered with no caveat. but perhaps that is his failing. ]
I mean — thank you. [ he has the urge to cough, except if he starts he might not stop, so he swallows that down and digs out his notes. ]
It needs to be within a walking distance. [ obviously. ] I believe two rooms will suffice — an office and a workshop. I... well, if the office is large enough for a bed, that would be preferrable. [ he knows his penchant for sleeping in the lab, might as well plan for that in advance. ]
[Octavian shrugs, expression faintly amused. He can't lie, he would probably react the same way if someone decided to do something for him without being asked. Still,]
It is... mutually advantageous.
[They're not in need of the same accommodations by any means, but there's a nonzero chance that a more accessible building will suit them both better than the alternative. If Viktor happens to hate a given option, Octavian can consider it...]
Reasonably spacious. [He nods; he gets it, not that he needs a bed in the office himself, but he's slept in weird places historically. Totally normal.] And what of the appliances. Refrigeration is a must for me.
[ viktor hums in response — well, that is better, then... he thinks, anyway. easier to accept, regardless.
and it is a nice change, really, that octavian accepts his wish for a bed in his workshop so easily... most would have given him a lecture about sleeping in the lab. thank you for being of sound mind, octavian. ]
Hmm, yes, I suppose it could be useful. Not a must — I do not dabble in alchemy. Tell me, how familiar are you with techmaturgy?
[Yes, much easier to accept kindness when there's a dollop of self-interest in it, he would agree—]
Techmaturgy... I have not heard the word before.
[But he knows how language works, so it's not hard to figure out what it probably means. He raises an eyebrow curiously, drifting around to perch on the arm of the chair he's haunting; putting a pin in real estate to talk about things-with-"tech"-in-them—]
Magical technology, is that correct. In life I was an inventor first. Before alchemy. And I have dabbled in the magical arts.
[He can't actually show much more interest without sort of dissolving around the edges, but maybe his unblinking stare and the way he tilts forward a bit can stand in for that. Tell him all the details.]
Yes, [ comes his answer, ] It is an intersectional field of chemistry, engineering and physics. It is wielded to serve what we call Hextech.
[ it is alright that octavian can't show his interest in more obvious ways — it is enough for viktor that he very clearly has the spectre's undivided attention, enough so that he is perching on the chair, leaning towards him slightly.
in turn, viktor leans forward, too, gripping his crutch for support. ]
So you were an inventor? Fascinating. You must tell me of your inventions some time. [ as soon as possible, in fact, but he recognises that he needs to explain this first. ] Where I come from, magic was thought to be something only the mages could use, innate, inherent. But Hextech... proved that wrong. [ his voice is animated in a way it hasn't been until now. ]
I cannot continue Hextech here, I lack some necessary materials, but... I wish to see what there is that I could do. So, yes, I require space for machinery.
[Hextech, is it; he'll remember that. It's easily the most interesting thing he's heard of when it comes to other people's local sciences, and if that's because he himself is only a stone's throw away from "magical inventor," well! That doesn't lessen his interest, certainly!
He nods - yes, he would love to talk about inventions one of these days, of course - but doesn't interrupt. There's this idea again that magic is somehow a circumstance of one's birth rather than a thing to be taught, he's heard that from people here already; strange, to be sure.]
A larger facility. Spacious. Of course. [He nods, glancing to the side, recalling a few buildings he's seen... hmm. And,] That drive towards innovation is admirable.
[To bring magic to the people, that is, so he figures he should add,] Magic is not innate where I am from. It is taught and learned like any skill. An instrument.
[And if it isn't like that where Viktor is from, but one could do it with a physical object, there must be a physical medium for magic? Fascinating. He will have to ask about this later, too.]
[ admirable, octavian says, and viktor's expression crumbles as he looks down and away — with a shake of his head, ] Perhaps. I fear my contributions to the world shall remain... less, than I should have liked.
[ there is more to say here, and maybe one day viktor will say it all; but as it is, he falls silent, listens to octavian speak of how magic is simply a skill in his home, something to be learned like anything else. ]
... I see. How different that must be. And did you learn it, too?
[ genuine curiosity enters his voice, once more, as he lifts his head and looks at octavian. ] You said you were an inventor. Is alchemy only a necessity? [ given his, hm, unfortunate state of being. ]
[Oh, is this a sensitive subject? Octavian notes that, and notes especially that Viktor considers his contributions less; as a literal dead person, he has plenty to project onto that... if he wanted to bring the mood severely down, that is. Maybe another time, he will ask.
Magic, instead, is fun and uplifting, at least in his experience.]
My parents were magicians. Quite famous. Their notoriety came with expectations for my brother and I.
[So he learned, and it was nice, and it might have been mostly a family bonding thing, but at least some of it helped him out with his... predicament. He lifts a hand to wave it this way and that, for Viktor's next question; yes, maybe, sort of?]
Alchemy was a hobby at first. A personal project. Like all alchemists I was interested in defeating death itself. [A beat, and a pointed glance down at, well, himself. Ha ha,] One of these days.
[ indeed it is — rather much so, though it doesn't require all that much to actually push him into the spiral he'd already been in back home, the way his guilt is eating him up, the way he still feels like he should have liked to do more, to achieve more... the way he wants to be remembered, as selfish as that is. the way that only makes him feel more guilty, because shouldn't sky's death have removed all traces of that by now?
the distraction of octavian's parentage is much welcome, and viktor focuses on that fully... even when he speaks of alchemy and defeating death, because that again strikes a little too close to home, with the potential he now believes the hexcore to possess, if only the price of it all wasn't far too much to bear. ]
You are dead, but not gone. That is ingenuity already. [ partial, though, and viktor's tone is — well, from someone else this might come across as placating, condescending even, a but you're doing so well already; from viktor, it's just a fact, nothing more. octavian is very obviously a smart man, and it'd be stupid to pretend otherwise... and equally stupid to treat it like it's somehow a victory in and of itself. ] But I suppose it is much like working with the arcane — a lot of trial and error.
[ anyway, let him go back to, ] So you learned magic from your parents? You and your brother?
[Octavian hums, acknowledging but not quite thanking Viktor for that almost-compliment; that would be condescending from anyone else, it's true, he would hate it. At least Viktor is a fellow man of science, and not one trying to treat him like an experiment—not any more than he himself is doing, anyway. So, almost-thanks.]
Trial and error. Indeed. It was fortunate circumstance that prevented my oblivion in the first place.
[Because if he hadn't been following that age-old alchemist's dream to defeat death, would he have had the groundwork available to pull himself back from the void at all? Doubtful, he knows; he can acknowledge the success he's reached like this, despite the impossibility of the odds, and still be frustrated about the stalled-out nature of progress. Thirty years wasted! Ridiculous.
But at least he's out of that goddamn room.]
You speak as if learning magic is uncommon. We were taught together. Yes.
[He says this like, of course they were, they're siblings, why wouldn't they have been brought up the same. Oh and also there was magic and it was ordinary, yeah, true.]
Some are more adept at it than others. But anyone can learn the theory of magic. At the very least.
Many things that change the course of a life, or many lives, often are. [ subject to circumstances, that is — if only one thing had been different, had gone differently, if only a word had or hadn't been spoken... an infinite number of possibilities, yet only one version of the reality they are living in.
but back to magic, ]
A skill like any other. How is magic viewed, then? Something as commonplace as any aspect of science? Feared or respected? [ a pause. ] You said your parents were magicians, no? What did they... do with it?
You are not incorrect, [he concedes, because it simply is what it is. Something about the innate unpredictable nature of the universe and so on, circumstance, etc. He doesn't disagree.
Anyway, many questions... His parents are the most interesting part in his opinion, so he'll start with them,]
My parents dealt in enchantments. Mostly. A fireplace that would burn indefinitely. A door locked without a key. And so on. They could manipulate the elements to an extent. When I was a boy they enchanted my glasses to never break.
[Not this present pair of glasses, obviously, even besides how they're not exactly "real" anymore anyway. But it remains a fond memory, so it's worth mentioning.
Now, less warm and fuzzy and more lecture-like, although it's not much of a difference,]
Magic is among the sciences. The materials are changed. But many of the concepts overlap. [....,] Well. I am behind the times these days. I can only assume.
Enchantments, [ he repeats, almost contemplative — how interesting. and completely different from the mages of runeterra, of course; magic had been a destructive force if anything, believed by many to be unable to be anything else... until hextech, in any case. ]
Curious, how different the same concept may be, when one changes the surroundings in which it appears.
[ and then, after a slight pause, ] They sound remarkable people. [ his parents, obviously. it's something he needs to add, his focus always first on the information and second on the emotion, but that doesn't mean it's not sincerely meant. ]
... And you? Are you capable of these enchantments, as well? Since they taught you, you must have been, at a point in time. [ but whether his ghostly nature has changed that, well. he'd like to know. ]
Most of the people here think alchemy is only for stories and ignorant people of old.
[Which is only funny the first handful of times, because as much as Root tries to ascribe him the mantle of wise old professor, he really does not have that much patience for explaining himself for ultimately no reward. Could people whose changed surroundings end in "pfft alchemy is fake and magic isn't real" just move on and not ask him anything, for god's sake...
Anyway. He agrees on that point, in any case. About the concepts. The aside about his parents earns a brief and small smile, an effort both herculean and automatic, then,]
I was never a master enchanter. But the ideas. Yes. I do remember my formulas. Most of me is enchantment at the moment.
It is not so different from chemistry, [ viktor says with a flat tone, like it isn't all that surprising that people are writing it off so quickly; it is very much what people do, in general, ] And as I have understood that magic exists in quite many worlds, that someone would combine it with the sciences should not be such a surprising matter.
[ but then, people also have limited understanding of even basic concepts. that is why, even though he wants to help people as a broad concept, he isn't, well. a people-person, by any stretch of imagination. ]
... I see. That makes sense, [ both that he would remember and that his current form is mostly an enchantment, now. carefully, ] Do you believe it could be taught, still? [ and because he's not the type to circle around a point, ] I do not have any hextech crystals here, right now, which means I cannot use the runes I know. But I wonder if I might learn to use yours, to a similar effect.
The synchronicity is an obvious conclusion, [yes, agreed, Viktor is so smart, unlike - um, teenagers who ask him questions he considers foolish. Never mind that detail.] Why should a discipline not borrow from another.
[He waves a hand, dismissing entirely everyone who has ever questioned him about alchemy and thinks magic and science are mutually exclusive. These people... would not be welcomed at his alma mater, he supposes.
But, enchantments, yes.]
I would show you. [And the "would" there is important, because he could show anyone, but the list of people he would show is countable on one hand. Congratulations.] If you will show me yours in turn. Inert or otherwise.
True discoveries are born out of the mixing of disciplines, yes? Chemistry, physics, mathematics, engineering... it all comes together.
[ and alchemy is no different, of course — he may not be adept at it, but far it be from him to dismiss it entirely.
he considers the offer — and nods. ]
Yes, of course. [ he would hardly expect not to return the favour; besides, he has a feeling octavian will understand the workings of hextech, of how the arcane speaks through the runes. it is not an easy feat to get it all to work, but he thinks octavian may just be such a man who could actually work on hextech, too. ]
I can show you the principle, the runes, all of it... and if I ever get a hextech crystal, more than the principle.
Of course. [Of course, of course, if only everyone who ever lived could understand the basic understanding of disciplines as separated by only a thin mesh, and not, like, steel walls. Interdisciplinary works are the strongest kind...!
Like this, for example, mixing together whatever this "hextech" thing really is with his own understanding of alchemy and runes. If he were capable of looking more delighted, he would, but the ghostly dullness of his gaze does sparkle a little more. Yes, show him the crystals... somehow.]
That would be excellent. We will need space to compare runes. [A lot of chalkboards? Or perhaps just a lot of floor space, considering what he's done to his working half of this room. Which brings him back around to,] Shall we browse the local real estate now.
[ once he has found the appropriate space to work in, of course... and maybe manages to either obtain a hexgem of his own, somehow, or persuade jinx to part with hers.
but yes, time to get back to business — ]
Yes, let's. [ And Then They Browsed Real Estate! ]
blood donation........ this is a great idea surely
[ 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 ... ]
[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.
[ 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. ]
[Vash... Octavian shuts the door after him and then just watches him look around for a moment before following him over to the chairs. He does not sit, but drifts over to the equipment to prepare the necessary materials.
And oh, they're doing smalltalk, alright. Give him a moment. Um.
Well, it isn't nice, don't lie, anyway,]
I do. It is adequate for the time being. I will be upgrading when I am able.
[Not that he has any money, so he'll figure that out, but.]
[ vash is full of idle small talk and innocent white lies, so really this conversation is going very well already ...
and the good thing is that he can chatter along and run his mouth off regardless of what octavian is doing with all the equipment for the ... procedure. the blood taking. whatever. it's all fine!!!!! totally!!! ]
You mean like a proper clinic? Or is it a laboratory, actually? That'd be cool!
What else will you study apart from this? I mean, when you get a body, of course!
[This is a question, technically, while he pauses over his supplies. Why would-- oh, ha, because he's taking blood. Very logical, unfortunately he's just a weirdo.]
I am not a doctor. But I have drawn blood before.
[So don't... worry?? Hmm. He turns back to Vash with a cotton swab, already dampened with sterile alcohol.]
I will study whatever I feel like. Roll up your sleeve.
[......,] When I was alive I was an inventor. Perhaps one day I will be again.
somehow, even with this being pretty much the only reason he'd been invited, vash has completely forgotten about that in order for blood to be drawn, octavian probably needs direct access to skin.
there's only a moment of hesitation, only a second of a break interrupting the flowing chatter that streams from his mouth, before vash takes in a quick inhale of breath, gives octavian a half-nervous, half-self conscious smile, and obligingly rolls up the sleeve of his right arm, bunching the black fabric up past his elbow. ]
.... Sorry.
[ he's probably apologising more for the fact that there doesn't seem to be an inch of skin that isn't covered in some kind of scars or burns or metal plates for him to stick the needle into. ]
[Octavian hums and takes hold of Vash's wrist, seemingly unconcerned with the appearance of his arm. He has a not-entirely-there touch, like being handled by something thin and hollow, cool in the places where the contact is strongest. He's dead and out of practice, but he can find a vein somewhere in all this, just watch him.
After a moment,] My skull was crushed. I was left there to bleed to death. If I felt shame for my past ills I would get nothing done today.
[So, like........ chill. This is the best he can do at empathy, unfortunately.]
[ the touch feels .... well, is it weird if he says ghostly? probably, but there's no other apt way to put the almost intangible pressure of the fingers. it's odd, but not weird.
even if vash says he isn't human (or in as roundabout way as he can admit it, as earlier), octavian will find that he still has fairly human-like vein structure if he does look to find one. at least, he bleeds the same? ]
Oh, [ it sounds a little like surprise, a little shocked, at such a blunt admission - and vash doesn't quite know how to set his expression; concerned? commiserating? it's hard to do when the other man is so matter of fact about it. ]
[Love to bleed the same, very convenient. Octavian pauses over a vein, though, glancing up with slightly raised eyebrows. He just kind of looks at Vash like this for a moment, then looks down again.]
Do not be. You see. This is what I mean. I make no progress under the bombardment of your concern either. Specifically all of you.
[He doesn't need the sympathy and he doesn't particularly care to tiptoe around the sensitivities of other people about what's happened to him or what he is, actually. It's tedious, but then again, he's been dead for a lot longer than some people here have even been alive, so...
Well, still. Sensitive living people problems. He presses down on the vein.]
You avoid the point. Sympathy in smaller doses. And you apologize too much for everything else.
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 aldripequivalent lego kits!
enjoy!!!! ]
Edited (omg so many edits bc html errors im gomen) 2024-12-20 11:13 (UTC)
[ 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.
[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:]
[Oh? Something dangerous and mysterious, you say? Octavian actually fully turns to his tablet for this, not that Viktor can see. He's Interested. And of course he's willing to hold on to something dangerous and mysterious as a favor.]
Well you are in luck as I have acquired a workspace perfectly suited to keeping a secret Which you should come and see at your leisure besides What does your matrix do Is this the thing that must not be touched ?
[ it's indeed both of these things, yes. thank you for your attention — ]
Have you, now? I wonder if the simulation has adapted to our needs, then, since it turns out I too have a proper lab space, finally. However, it is not only mine, which is why it won't do.
[ as a safe space to keep the hexcore, that is. ]
Are you busy right now? The sooner it is out of here, the better. There are too many people from home here... and many have a propensity to show up unannounced.
I will answer your questions once I am there. The less record there is of its capabilities, encrypted or no... the better.
I like to think of it as a pleasant coincidence Would not want to give our captors too much credit
And I did meet someone from your world The professor
[Dropping that mostly so Viktor can decide and let him know if this professor in particular is someone who shouldn't be allowed to know about this item— not that Octavian is going to run his mouth about any secrets, or honestly, even announce that his personal workshop is here to most people, but still gauge this for him.]
I have time The new building is behind the old building
The lab is a pleasant coincindence, yes... the hexcore, not so much.
Professor Heimerdinger? I see. Please do not let him know of any of this. There are others, too: Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Miss Medarda, Silco, Ekko... tell none of them, either. I believe most, if not all of them would know of the existence of the hexcore, and they should remain ignorant of its presence here.
The only other who knows of that is my partner. But until we figure out a way to destroy it, I am keeping its location from him, too.
[ because CLEARLY SOMEONE CANNOT BE TRUSTED WITH IT, anyway — ]
I will be there shortly.
[ and he will, in so little time that it's obvious he's literally thrown the hexcore into a relatively secure box, the box in a bag, thrown on his coat and left. ]
[And now he can honestly say Viktor has mentioned them, if any of them happen to cross his path one of these days. But oh, Silco too—meh—and the Medarda woman, she seemed intelligent...
That's so many people. He can't even name that many people from home he'd want to see here. Scary concept, to have so many people around who cannot know about the mysterious danger object.
No matter: he doesn't send another message, simply waiting for Viktor to arrive. The new building is behind his house, as promised, a modest one-story affair made of brick and painted black. There's a space over the double doors for a sign, but it's gone now, and the doors are unlocked; it's a business, after all. The front room is an office with a small area to sit around a table and conduct said business near the front window, a desk in the back, some display cases around sparsely populated with small machines of perhaps not so obvious purposes.
Octavian sticks his head out of one of the two doors in the back of the room when he hears Viktor arrive, gesturing for him to come this way. Please come see his steampunk workshop, cramped and cluttered and with just as many notes scribbled on non-paper surfaces as the living room in his house. It's definitely a workshop for tinkering and building more than an alchemy lab, but then, this is his actual job, so...]
[ that is good — he hates to put this on octavian, and yet measures have to be taken. he can't risk, hm, many things, in fact.
he does arrive, a bag slung over his shoulder (and it's a bag resembling a large ikea bag in size, except with a zipper holding it closed), and it's clear he's managed the trip mostly through sheer willpower and abject panic... which is, admittedly, receding somewhat now that he's here and the hexcore hasn't done anything terrible during the trip. so he can actually focus on taking a look at the new building; it's the small machines that instantly catch his interest, and then the workshop proper even more so.
he sets the bag on the floor carefully, and then moves around the space. ]
This is your workshop, from your home? [ yes, small though it is, he likes it quite a lot. ] Small, but very nice.
[Octavian glances down at the bag, curious; but they'll get to that, he's sure, so first he gets to show off the workshop.]
It is. Cold storage is in the back. The other room, [the second door from the back of the office,] was intended to be a break room of sorts.
[It changed into a workshop of its own fairly quickly, though, just even smaller. There's still a fridge in it, anyway, so that's break room ish.]
These days it is bigger. But this is the workshop I remember. [How nostalgically pleasant, although he lets it hang for a beat, because it's also incredibly suspect.] So our captors' methods of creating these places delves directly into the psyche. Hmm. Would you care for a refreshment?
[ a wry look crosses his face at that intended to, mostly because he can relate to the lack of taking any breaks, ever, unless forced to.
the fact that it is — what, created out of octavian's memory? is something both incredibly interesting and faintly horrifying in its implications, and viktor's brows knit together as he says, ] That makes a shocking amount of sense. It is an approximation of our consciousness, real or created, which resides here — so it is from that they are creating these... additions.
[ also, ] Perhaps later. [ right now, he feels still vaguely ill over the hexcore, and though it had receded it is back with a vengeance now as he thinks about it in this context, having been not brought here but replicated from his memories —
oh yes, he definitely doesn't want to even attempt to drink anything right now. ]
Likely so. That would adequately explain their contribution to my work. [His convenient vessel, that is; why would the thing in control of this place actually do something for him if it could just copy it out of his psyche and make it a bit more convenient? That tracks more with the thing's lack of care for any of them, he thinks.
Speaking of care, though - this object on the floor and how much it unsettles Viktor. Hmm. He gestures down at it.]
I feel cold storage might be an inappropriate hiding place. There is a safe in the other room, instead.
It is always easier to create something from an existing model than to make the model from scratch.
[ it is simply a fact, as much as he prefers to, in fact, create things from scratch himself — but for the simulation, is it certainly more expedient to drag things out of their memories, thoughts, plans, than to have to code into existence something that does not exist even as a part of their consciousness.
but, right, back to the hexcore in the room, ]
Is it large enough? [ the safe, that is. viktor leans down to open the bag, revealing a metallic container large enough to take up nearly the entire bag (one that he'd created, some weeks ago, as a just in case measure) — the box is tightly held together by latches, all of which have a panel on them.
he presses the fingertip of his un-gloved index finger against the panel, and it flashes green; as it clicks open, a seam opens just slightly to let out an intense glow of purple. ]
It cannot be opened without me, [ he says, which ostensibly makes it safe enough... but clearly he doesn't think so, being here and all. slowly, he opens another latch, something that makes it possible to open a side of the box just a little; and then he backs off immediately as the glow of purple almost seems to reach for him through the opening. ]
This is the adaptive rune matrix I told you of... I call it the hexcore. [ please look at it now if you want to, until it will be packed up again and stuffed in the safe, ]
True enough. That suggests a number of unfortunate possibilities about our own existences that could complicate things. A means of escape, for one.
[If they, too, are just copies in a computer somewhere, specifically; after all, wouldn't it be easier to copy an entire psyche and then go from there, than to continuously pull things out of it? But he says it like it isn't that important, because to him, it isn't - just something that would reframe how to go forward.
And as he comes over to crouch down and peek at the hexcore, like, immediately, with a shrug,] I can remove the shelves in the safe.
[Then it should be big enough! It's not like there's going to be much else in there in the realm of money or paperwork, because he doesn't intend to open this place up for public business, so if it exists only to house this container, then at least it'll get some use.
Ooh, purple. He's careful not to lean too close, recalling the prior warning about how this thing could destroy a person, keeping his hands folded on his bent knees to resist the urge. Purple magic... do not touch... Interesting just to peer at the glow, but more than that,]
[ he has considered this, too — has heard different theories about their existence here, so even before this, he'd thought about it; that they might just be copies of themselves, forever removed from their original selves. it is just one more complication on an endless road of complications, however, and the hexcore is the most immediate one on that very road.
from the opening on the side of the box, octavian can see something move inside it — the purple glow, yes, but also pointed ends, circular holes, looking almost natural, shifting and turning as if alive.
viktor stares at the floor. ]
Yes, it does. It is linked to me, and I to it.
[ slowly, he reaches for his hand; removes the glove that has been ever-present on their every meeting thus far. beneath it, his hand is undeniably purple, almost metallic-looking. ]
[Yeah, they're basically doomed, but on the off chance that they aren't it's worth collecting all possibilities, and so on. Octavian hums and hunches lower to really get a good look into the box at this distance, chin resting on his hands. It moves like a thing alive, if not a thing particularly sentient; if anything he might compare it to a bacteria or a virus in shape if nothing else, moving for the sake of movement... seeking, perhaps.
But then, if Viktor hadn't told him about it before, he wouldn't think it seeking for anything, and would definitely have tried to touch it by now, so perhaps that's a bias. He looks away from it finally to Viktor—and down to his hand, speaking of touching it.]
I see. [The warnings, the haunted way Viktor speaks of it and looks at it, hm, this was not an intentional... purpling. Galvanizing. Whichever.] But locked in my safe it will not link with anyone else.
[For the best, yes, he's seeing that. He reaches out one lone index finger not towards the hexcore, but towards Viktor's newly exposed hand. Danger does not erase curiosity unfortunately, and it does seem like Viktor's unfortunate hand isn't going to literally eat him, so,] May I?
[ but he's been wrong before about this particular topic, of course. and yet, that one sentence betrays a myriad of others — why he is here, now, why he is seeking to hide the hexcore away; not entirely for fear others would seek to misuse it, no. but that he himself would, that there might come a moment when he is so tired, so angry, so something that he would turn to it once again, or let it into his mind like a whisper and a hook, let it reel him in until he's out of strength to fight it.
he's afraid of it, yes, but even more he is afraid of himself.
the question gives him a pause, though only a short one; one that he follows with a nod. he trusts octavian more than he trusts himself — and perhaps he's puzzled out as much, by now. his mind is blade-sharp, after all. so why would he say no to this? ]
My leg is the same, [ he says as he holds out his hand, knowing the cold metallic feel of it will be very different from his flesh-and-blood body. ] That was intentional. This was not.
[Hm, he'll buy an extra padlock. Curious as he is about the hexcore, he is far less curious about being eaten by it or whatever it might do to him; he has no particularly permanent limbs to turn purple, after all, and his temporary body can hardly be... hardy enough to withstand whatever it is precisely the hexcore does.
The safe will do, then; anything remaining curiosities can go on a list and he'll ask Viktor about them whenever the mood strikes him. Like now, with the purple hand.]
Did it help, [he asks quietly, about the leg. Could this thing be harnessed, with enough study, for a fuller restoration of mobility, or something else? Speaking of curiosities.
There's still a hand held out for him to touch though, and he turns away from the hexcore to reach out with both hands, one to catch Viktor's lightly underneath and the other to run his fingers over Viktor's fingers and drag towards his wrist. Oh, yes, that's very different from the expected fleshy experience, and the engineer part of Octavian can't help marveling at the smoothness of it, as an apparently metallic object. Where are the hinges, the creases, the corners? It must be some fusion of the organic flesh and something more synthetic...
Well, as synthetic as the hexcore-which-is-debatably-alive can make a thing. He presses his thumb into the center of Viktor's palm, not hard, but there.]
[ there's a breath, and the sound he lets out is not quite an exhale, not quite a scoff, not quite a laugh — a mix of all of those, heavy with guilt. ]
Yes. Yes, it did. [ and isn't that the worst thing? for a time, it did help. but the cost of it was far too high. ] I tried to use it to cure myself. There is no medicine in Runeterra that could do it. But the Hexcore, it can interact with organic matter — mutate it, with the right runic commands, and with the organic matter... braced for the change.
[ he does chuckle then, humourless and dry. ] I was dying. I thought I didn't have anything to lose. It tried to drag me to it, for what, I do not know... but my assistant intervened. It killed her for it.
[ he gives this account quietly, the guilt never once leaving his voice, even as octavian runs his fingers over his hand; it's a nice distraction, and easier to speak while the other is focused on something else, not looking directly at him.
as for the question, ] Yes, I do. It is not the same kind of feeling as before, but... it is a feeling.
[Oh, fascinating, he can feel it, that means Octavian absolutely must continue to run his fingers all over Viktor's palm and the inside of his wrist, while he listens. He'll award himself a little mental point for guessing at the organic matter being altered by something, but that's not the point.]
I see. So that is what you meant.
[Accidents happen in the lab, that isn't anything new. Oversight sometimes falls to the wayside, but neither of those are what this is about. Octavian has no experience with something like this, of course not, but he can imagine the depth of regret for such an accident; if Sterling had been hurt any point by his myopic work habits, if Emory is hurt one day by his willingness to help their gang...]
We can be blinded by things larger than ourselves. Progress. Emotions. Desperation.
[Speaking as a thing that should not be, in his opinion, he gets it. This is not an absolution, but he could see himself on the other side of this easily enough.]
[ octavian's fingers continue to trace his palm, and viktor lets out a shuddering breath, closes his eyes for a moment — it is not absolution he seeks, because no one can give that to him, but the quiet understanding in octavian's voice is enough. he'd told singed that jayce would understand, but it had been a hope more than him truly believing his own words; and that he's found someone who evidently does, in fact, understand...
he opens his eyes, thinks about the mirrors, the first time the two of them met. ] You've seen it, [ he says, quiet, the words fighting through the sandpaper of his throat. ] The mirrors. The woman in them. She had such dreams.
[ he turns his hand, then, grips octavian's suddenly, not particularly hard even as he does it for support. and he could not speak of this, could lie — but he doesn't want to. best scatter it all on the floor in front of them, all the pieces of the truth, so octavian can look at the entire sorry picture and decide what he wants to do with it. ]
The worst thing is that I believe it can do it. Cure me, that is. Your quest for defeating death — I believe the Hexcore can do that. [ lifting his head, he looks actively miserable as he looks directly at octavian, ] Does it make me a coward if I would rather give up and die than use it?
[ but he has allowed so much, bent his principles when he never should have, when he should have left, should have gone back to zaun and helped those who don't matter to the upper echelons of piltover; he tried and he tried to extend his own life, believing that the good sense he trod on would be counterbalanced by all the good he could still do... and yet, this is the one principle he will not cross. he will not use something that has no regard for human life, something so chaotic and unpredictable, something that will only continue to bring more chaos if it keeps existing — he wants to live, yes, but not like this. not as whatever he would be, after.
(and he knows there's going to be an after — knows he lives, knows how, knows and doesn't want to — ) ]
[Ah, and the abrupt movement of Viktor's hand makes Octavian look up at his face in turn. The intensity of the moment doesn't grow so much as shift, and for a few seconds Octavian is unaware of what he should do, staring at the misery in Viktor's face and under the looming height of am I a coward?
He's sure many would think so, even after the things Viktor has seen the core do. Even after it ate a woman, many might consider him a coward, or at the very least, selfish— or both of those things in the first place, for trying to experiment with it at all. Octavian shakes his head and looks back down at their hands, using his free hand now to trace lines down the back of Viktor's hand, from knuckles to wrist.]
No. Cowardice is subjective. [First of all, there's that,] Therefore so is this. But no.
We are each of us a bulwark against the undiscovered, [he goes on, and we and us are not just people but the things they themselves are, specifically: innovators, inventors, scientists.] It would be worse if we were to cast off ethics and oversight... and fear.
[He glances over at the case, still vaguely pulsing from inside, waiting for one of them to get close enough. Viktor says the thing could cure his ills, could finish Octavian's work, but the human cost... No, there are some unknowns that cannot be leapt into purely for progress, or interest, or just to see what happens.]
You have seen the thing I truly am. Facsimile. Abomination. Even this- [his body, that will reject his soul in a few hours because it must certainly know better,] I would not wish on another. I would fail before I ensnare another in my terrible fate.
[So no; there are lines that must not be crossed, wherever they land for any one of them. And that was a lot of talking at once, for him, so he huffs and shifts to sit cross-legged and slouch, squeezing Viktor's hand as he does. Exhausting...]
[ the touch is an anchor against the deep waters of the ocean made of his own guilt, one he fights not to drown in just as often as he fights the blood in his lungs; but the more octavian speaks, the more the tide turns, the easier he can breathe. once again, octavian offers him understanding where he never thought to find it, ever — for a moment, he simply looks at him, quiet and grateful.
and when he sits in a slouch, the squeeze signaling the end of his words, viktor nods, feeling equally exhausted for a different reason. ]
There are things a soul should not endure.
[ octavian's, specifically, to be made to exist in that kind of in-between state, constantly fighting to remain; he understands the necessity, but it doesn't make it any less wrong for his soul, his state, his existence.
but speaking of fates; he sighs, then, shoulders sagging as he speaks out the final piece: ] It is my fate, if not my choice. To be cured by it. From what state, I don't know — but if I am ever sent back like so many of those from my world have been, I don't know who I will be when I come back. [ with a wry, sad quirk of his lips, ] Perhaps we shall match.
[ abominations, both of them in their own ways. still, ] As long as I have the choice, this is a line I will not cross.
[ he falls silent, then, squeezes octavian's hand in an echo. ] ... Thank you. For all of this. [ for taking the hexcore, for listening, for understanding. it all means more to him than he can properly express. ]
[That's right; there are things a soul should not endure. He's right, and Octavian acknowledges as much with a tired sort of smile and a tilt of his head. Yes, completely, it's awful.
And he has no point of comparison for this other thing, the horror- he has to assume- of knowing in advance one's fate is not what they wanted. Petty consequence of Aldrip's apparent disinterest in anyone else from his home, unlike Viktor's, so very... represented here. It must be dreadful.
He pats Viktor's hand sympathetically, at least.]
You know what they say about misery, [ha ha, if they are indeed to match—but choice, choice is everything, so,] Still. To be what I am is not... so miserable. I hope it is not how I will be forever. But...
[But, how does he word this, hm, he pauses for a moment and looks to the side, thinking. He's got more words, here goes.]
But I must gaze back in the mirror at the choices I have made. And these are mine. That matters.
[Even if they're terrible choices, he got to make them, and that counts for something.
Then, with another small smile, though not as tired,] If I had made other choices I would not have met you.
[ the pat earns him another wry half-smile, and yes, misery does indeed love company — but he is glad that octavian's existence isn't all bad. and truly, it all comes down to choices, doesn't it — bad or not, however they ended or began, at least he has had the chance to make them.
and perhaps that is what chafes him, in turn; that he had chosen, had decided that he would see death rather than let the hexcore affect him, and then jayce had neatly ripped that choice from his hands. and those from home, they're not subtle; jinx with her taunts and strange concern over his mind, vi and caitlyn both checking up on him, making sure he was still himself, even the professor, looking at him with something like sympathy — they all know a version of him different from who he is today, a version he becomes not at all because he wants to. choice is everything, yes, and he's not had a choice over so many things in so, so long.
and the choices he has made? terrible, horrible things, and when octavian smiles and says if i had made other choices i would not have met you, viktor's mind whirs to a stop, halts abruptly like a machine paused, his eyes wide and mouth half-open.
because here he is, with his worst invention in a box on the floor, the whole tragic tale spilled out between them, every single puzzle piece held in octavian's smooth hands, and still —
still, he thinks... this?
for a long moment, he remains still, silent — his chest both hurts and feels terribly light, and it's only been some tens of seconds, and yet something's shifted in between them.
finally, he manages, with a small, soft smile, ] Actually, I think it is because of the simulation that you met me. Not through any choice on either of our parts, since we were hardly given a choice to be here.
[ his words may say all of that, but his tone says thank you, and the warmth in his eyes says i am glad our choices combined brought us here in the end. ]
[There's something endearing about the way Viktor seems shocked by his words— endearing and sad, but there are enough heavy emotions hanging in the air already. So, he'll be endeared—he can't say he's rendered anyone speechless before, and it's not a bad feeling.
And please,] Semantics. You cannot change my mind by being difficult.
[Ha. As far as Aldrip is concerned, his crime is refusing to stay dead, so if that is indeed the case— then to have chosen differently would have changed this, QED, and so on. It doesn't matter; Viktor can say anything here and Octavian will understand. Does, now, like this. Their choices are the things that matter, and if his choices have led him here, he can go forward with the satisfaction of understanding another person on this level.
And the satisfaction of putting that look on Viktor's face. He smooths his thumb over the back of Viktor's hand idly for a bit longer, maybe a minute, maybe less. Eventually he looks away, back at the case.]
[ he huffs out a breath at that, quietly amused despite himself — and it is like the atmosphere lightens, then, lightens every second that passes that they simply sit there in silence, octavian's thumb moving over his hand slowly and gently. ]
Yes, [ he says, because of course they need to do it — best be rid of the thing as soon as they can. the work on the safe isn't difficult, fortunately; removing the shelves is an easy thing to do, and then the safe is ready for the entire metallic box to be shoved inside it, with viktor locking the box itself up tightly first.
he doesn't really breathe properly until the safe door clicks shut.
when it does, though, he can finally think of something else — and the something else is in his pocket, where he reaches into and pulls out a perfectly spherical gem that glows lightly blue. ]
I almost forgot, [ he says as he holds it out for octavian to take, ] This is a hextech gemstone. It appeared when the hexcore did. I promised I'd show you one. And now we can use it however we want. I thought perhaps, if we can combine your magical engineering with hextech... we could make something more than a machine operated by humans. Something that could move and act on its own.
[ there is a life to his words, like the misery from earlier had also sapped him of the kind of animated energy that he shows, now; his lips tilt into a smile, then, eyebrows raising slightly, ] Your spectral form makes some things difficult, no? Perhaps whatever we create could help you around here. I would like to use the crystal to help you, if I can.
[Putting the thing into the safe is the easy part, and Octavian considers whether or not he should tell Viktor its combination—eventually, maybe, when he isn't so raw over the contents. For now this will be his secret to bear, and he will keep it securely hidden for as long as necessary.
So the sudden appearance of the gemstone is a surprise, if only for its innocent beauty after staring into the shifting eye of its pseudo-living cousin. Pretty and blue and finely formed, and Octavian accepts it and holds it up in the center of his palm to look at it more closely. Very nice, indeed...]
For me? [Oh, that's interesting, he didn't know this body was equipped with a warmth to bloom in his chest until just now, hm!] A... custodian of sorts.
[Both in the sweeping sense and the looking after him sense, really, because he is quite awful to behold in the last moments of his physical body. He may one day need looking after.]
I would like that. And I would like to work with you. [Ah, after all these years, to work with someone again—] Come and see my proper workshop. There may be tools I am missing that I will need help in identifying.
[ for me, octavian asks, and viktor nods almost absently, like it's an of course rather than anything else — and it is, to him. it was the first thing he thought of, when he saw the crystal. ]
Yes, exactly. And making a functional robot of sorts should prove interesting.
[ his smile is no wider than the usual light tilt of his lips, but there is a brightness to him now, a direct contrast to how wan and sorrowful he seemed there with the hexcore; and that alone is perhaps enough on its own to show that yes, he would very much like this, too. working on it, together.
though, wryly, ]
I will warn you, you may have to kick me out. I tend to keep working when I can. And I am unused to working with anyone but Jayce, but... [ a tilt of his head, a half-smile, to say but i think we will be fine. he has a feeling. ]
Yes, do show me. [ the workshop, but also the (possible lack of) tools, ]
[The shift in Viktor brings out the same in Octavian, who turns to lead them to the actual, official workshop with more pep than he'd taken in Viktor's story. A robot! For him! It's delightfully good fun to have a project again besides staring at the same formulas he's stared at for years and years; he intends to enjoy it very much.
But first the workshop, and as he pushes open the door,]
You need not worry about that. I will inevitably excuse myself to, hm, [he gestures at himself rather than finish the thought, as if to say you know; when this body runs out of time he would prefer to dissolve out of it in private. Other than that,] But I also enjoy the rush of productivity.
[So that's all well and good. The workshop is cluttered,l and only somewhat organized by discipline; beakers and mixers clustered on one desk and set of shelves, while the tools meant for moving metal and putting things together are more or less on the other side of the room, in their own area. What is there is high quality, of course, but he definitely lacks in many useful tools for working with crystal or other stone. They just weren't that type of workshop, back in the day.
Many of the flat surfaces do feature his handwriting scrawled around where it was convenient; that isn't a habit he got into only after death.
(There isn't a cot, because the cot is back in the other room, with the safe. Ahem.)
Just walking into the room makes him an iota more animated, gesturing at it all with pride.]
[ he makes a noise that is not quite a hum at that, but yes, he does know — they don't need to dwell on that more than necessary. better to focus on the workshop itself, and he does so with great interest; now that the hexcore isn't an invisible weight on his shoulders, it is easier to look at everything with his full attention. and so he walks around slowly, picking up a tool here and there, humming at the craftsmanship and the quality.
absently, he runs his fingers over a patch of his handwriting, tracing the scrawl with a slight smile before he turns back to octavian. ]
Excellent, [ he says and not as a compliment, not really, but because he means it; it is excellent, perfect for the purpose, with a stronger character to it than the white laboratory space he is used to inhabiting. ]
I will make a list of what is missing. I'm sure it will be easy to procure what is still needed... it is not much. [ read: the space is well-equipped, he approves. ]
[Ah... it's been decades since Octavian has worked in this lab with someone, and even as they've been talking about it, it's only when he stands back to watch Viktor roam around the space that it really sinks in. He can't help the wave of nostalgia that gives him, although he can actively stomp that thought down and replace it with the warm satisfaction he gets from seeing Viktor look around and touch this or that.
Viktor knowing what he's doing as he looks around is also nice to see; he already had faith in Viktor's knowledge, so the insight is valuable.]
You think so? Let me know if I can assist in finding anything.
[Read: he'll ask Root to find him something, which still counts.]
Yes, [ he answers a little distractedly, already compiling a list while still looking around and thinking of what else they might need for the robot, his mind can multitask — and then, with a mutter, ] I have some tools I can bring over from the lab.
[ and probably have jayce question where they've gone, but that's a problem for future viktor. with a glance at the crystal there in octavian's hand, ]
Hextech, with the right runes, provides a sort of... hm, one might call it a zero-gravity function. We do not have to worry about the heaviness of the alloy that we use, the gemstone will counter that. A combination of steel and carbon has proved to be quite durable.
I have, however, never tried to create something that moves and is capable of performing tasks on its own. [ so hopefully octavian has some ideas for how to go about that... ]
Oh, [he says, eyebrows going up in clear interest in this zero gravity element. That's fascinating and definitely worth exploring, but also,] Lucky. I assume it can be utilized during construction as well? If the supplies are heavy.
[They are but two twiggy guys, after all, and Octavian would hate to have to ask for additional help from locals who can lift big sheets of metal. They were bad enough to make small talk with when he had to move furniture in his house.]
As for the automation... I can draft a few formulas. It will not think for itself. Perfroming tasks is very doable, however.
As long as the runes are in place, yes. [ a little wryly, ] You know, I've never actually tried. [ mostly because originally the crystals were too volatile to move anywhere, and they worked on stationary things to build around them; and then with the atlas gauntlets, well, jayce had been plenty strong to lift them on his own.
but he hopes it will work... and if not, perhaps he can wheedle vi into carrying things for them. she might just agree. ]
No, we are not about the create yet another artificial intelligence here. [ the one that exists is already doing badly enough without a baby artificial intelligence inside another artificial intelligence, dear gods. ] That it perform tasks is plenty.
[Embrace creative solutions for lifting things instead of talking to people, Viktor, it's great— They'll see, anyway.
He waves a hand like no, no, no more AIs.] I would not know how to craft a whole intelligence regardless. Outside of my various disciplines. And someone would undoubtedly try to kill it like they did to the previous intelligence here.
[Imagine, if someone came for his son... terrible.]
and then he is busy making a face of complete affront, at the idea of someone harming this as-of-yet hypothetical robot (their son, excuse —) ]
No one will touch it. [ a thoughtful pause. ] I wonder if we should equip it with a self-defense protocol, just in case. [ the hextech crystal will, after all, act like a small nuke under the right circumstances and with the right runes... or a rocket launcher. and while he is adamant about not creating weapons, well, the robot isn't going to be one; and should it come across one of the monsters or something else here, for it to be able to protect itself sounds reasonable. ]
[Their son-!! The face he makes gets a smile out of Octavian, then he looks toward the tinkering part of the workshop like there's already a work in progress robot over there. Hmm, their son, but with a gun on it or something...? Interesting idea, potentially.]
I doubt it will have much reason to leave this building. Still. Just in case. Perhaps.
[Probably the best course of action is making it cute, then no one will bother it— They'll get there. Octavian smiles again.]
Either way. Let us get to work soon. I am looking forward to it.
[ not a gun, but perhaps a pulsing shockwave, enough to knock out an intruder — well. he will think about it. ]
Only if you need it to.
[ it will be designed to stay here, in any case. echoing that smile, viktor looks at him and nods; it is... a nice feeling, to think of working together, to simply look forward to it without feeling any trace of lingering frustration, something that has accompanied him in the lab back home for too long now. ]
Whenever you want. If you do not want to kick me out, we could get started on the plans now.
[Aw, remembered his brother's name, what a good other nephew—]
I am the same man who forgot to mention Mars you will recall In any case I did not know about him until recently He was born after I died His name is Emory and he is a sweet boy Too sweet to admit I make him nervous
[ of course he did — he's in the habit of remembering things that matter to people he cares about... and he is a detective. remembering stuff is pretty key, there. ]
right, so from now on any time you mention anything i will have to ask if there's ten other relevant things you've forgotten, got it
recently? so after you got out of that room, i'm guessing
[ he... isn't going to ask about the nervous part, because that's a bit sad, actually. ]
That my only nephew found his way inevitably to the home of the man who killed me and made a fortune off my tragic disappearance No I do not think so
[And he really, profoundly objects to being a Special Ghost, but since Charles is just trying to be a nice boy as always, he's just going to ignore that.]
right. yeah, reckon that's true. was he looking into what happened to you?
[ truthfully, he mostly meant special in terms of being smart enough to do something no one else had managed — but he's ever attuned to the way people respond to things, and octavian ignoring that doesn't go unnoticed; right, so he's going to avoid saying that in the future, then. ]
Not until he found me Our Hiram is a collector of valuable things From what I have been told my nephew and his cohorts intended to retrieve an old project my brother and I had worked on Gathering dust in its stupid little case
[ 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. ]
[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.]
[ 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. ]
[That gets him another fond squeeze, before he lets go to take the gem and move to Viktor's side, so he can place it in the proper place. There's a moment of hesitation solely for dramatic effect, because he's fairly confident they really have done it this time—
And when he slots the gem into place and the robot doesn't immediately start zipping around the room, that's a good sign. It whirs to life and spins its whole head around to look at them, and it's very adorable about it.]
An auspicious start. [He bumps his shoulder into Viktor's.] You must issue the first command.
[ it has been, oh, three seconds, and viktor is already very fond of this little robot, the way it looks at them as if it knows exactly where they are, like there is some intelligence there in those blue-glowy eyes — it is natural to assign human qualities to inhuman things, of course, but the fact remains that this little robot is indeed very cute.
he smiles at octavian and nods. ]
Yes, it is. [ though, ] Shouldn't that be you? It is intended to be your help, no? Go on.
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. ]
[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.]
[ 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.
[Octavian moves as Viktor does, leaning into him with a contentment he hasn't felt in days. Soon he will have questions, of course, there's so much about Viktor that's different now - but reassuringly none of those changes appear to be his feelings for Octavian, for this, so with that relief, the questions can wait.
Octavian hums quietly, lifting his other hand to cup Viktor's face with both, tender but firm. If he lets go of Viktor Aldrip may take him away again, so for the moment, this is good. This is perfect.]
You would not leave intentionally. Still I will always wait.
[Maybe they should burn down the city, actually, just not because any local pyschopaths wanted to—]
[ it had crossed his mind, of course — walking between his quiet, dust-filled laboratory (his, here, and yet he is now leaving it behind just as he had in piltover) and octavian's little house, that he could have woken here and felt absolutely nothing. that among all the changes, all the clarity that he had woken with, one thing lost along with much of what had made him human might have been this — the way his soul reaches for octavian's whether they are together or apart.
he exhales, then, closes his eyes for a moment, focuses on the feeling of octavian's hands against the uneven metal of his cheeks. he lifts his other hand, cards his fingers through octavian's hair, lets them rest at the nape of his neck. clearly he's in no hurry to let go, either. ]
You're right, I would not. And yet I've caused you pain not once but twice, now.
[ there is the passing thought that even this, something as beautiful as the regard they have for each other, can become a source of pain — but he disregards the thought, to respond, soft and gentle, ]
And I you. Even if I didn't know it.
[ there is a memory, knocking inside of his mind, of a time he'd said something very much like this — and an impulse, a wave of warmth, one he wishes he could spend a moment more to analyse but it urges him to move, to pull octavian forward just a little, to press their lips together once, twice.
as he pulls back, he says, quiet and soft still, ]
I will never forgive them for making me forget you.
[The change in Viktor is fascinating, here with his hands; he will hear all the details about it later, he presumes, enough to fill a dozen pages of notes at least. Even outside of the scientific, the tug of intrigue is still there, to know with eyes and lips and fingertips the many ways Viktor has become... different.
Not entirely; he still crouches here and kisses Octavian and feels the same for him, through two deaths now, is it? It makes Octavian's mock heart flood with warmth at the same time it pierces— tragedy keeps befalling Viktor in one way or another, and if he could stop it...
Well, luckily blowing up buildings has already proven useless, or he'd think about it. He leans further into Viktor, hands sliding down to rest against his neck, and he allows himself the selfish relief that Viktor has returned to him at all, a second time, miraculously. He has never been so lucky before.]
Then next time you will not. [Patterns and more patterns; there will always be a next time.] There must be something that controls the flow of memories here. I will be at its gates when they are forced to open.
[He loves a new project - something to think about.
Leaning back just slightly to consider Viktor, and then without ceremony reaching up to tug the hood down, hm,] Aha. Your hair is longer. It looks nice.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I need your help with something.
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What do you need
?
And
Are you well
?
[Cool Manners! (tm)]
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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?
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You are compelling
You will make friends soon
Why do you need ghosts
for scouts
?
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Seems expedient. Can't you zip through physical barriers and laugh in the face of danger?
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And
Technically yes that is doable
However
I hate doing it
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What do you hate about it? The world's kind of falling apart right now, we might need you to anyway.
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And personal nonexistence
Meaning no offense but I will not die again for any of you
So
how long would you need me to do it
?
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Is it the pain you're afraid of? Nobody dies here permanently. You'll just respawn. But you can take whatever risks you want or don't want to take if you're willing to scout.
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I will look around for you
If you could provide me with certain materials
barriers will not be an issue regardless
["get me stuff to make a pipe bomb"]
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Tell me what you need and I'll get it for you.
[ She means this unequivocally. ]
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It was unpleasant to die
I would spare you the experience if possible
One moment
[Well, like ten minutes, and he'll pop over Attachment: List.txt]
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[ Root experienced extreme torture for the sake of her mission within a week of accepting it; she's not going to flinch from something she knows is functionally without consequence apart from the pain she herself experiences. ]
Consider it done. What's all this for?
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But if it is avoidable
Please do not commit too much self-sacrifice
[The two schools of thought he's been presented with so far are this ("you come right back so why not") and "you just hang around a little and then move on when you die," and he doesn't really like either of them. Dying is terrifying and being moved on is worse, surely someone out there will agree with him.
But until then.]
Explosives
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[ Root isn't not afraid of it, she's just a fully committed zealot who won't back down an inch for her cause. ]
Why, you didn't tell me alchemy has a fun side, Octavian.
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Also
What exactly are you looking for
regarding the entity
?
How would one identify a terminal that is
Many chemistry and -adjacent disciplines are fun
You could learn
I am historically an engineer before an alchemist
so you may trust my products
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I just didn't realize alchemy was so chemistry-adjacent. I'm pretty good with explosives already. But always open to learning more from a qualified expert.
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A signal to communicate with the others
Possibly not a noise after all
Oh
Yes
Rather symbiotic almost
But again yes I am much better at the mechanics as my alchemical research is highly specialized
And
I have not made anything fun in a while
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Aw, you've got to live a little sometimes! Maybe especially when you're dead. After this is over, you and me, all the fun mechanics, please.
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Let me know if I can help assembling such a device
Yes alright we will have fun
Whatever happens with this entity
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I'll hold you to that, Octavian ❤
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Well
How fast is real fast
?
But most likely yes I have plenty of free time and I do not sleep
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That sounds lovely. I wish I didn't need to sleep.
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I will be expedient
It can be very boring very often but mostly it is convenient yes
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https://expiationnet.dreamwidth.org/61949.html?thread=9166589#cmt9166589
Remind me to show you how to set up audiobooks on your device for those long boring nights.
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Helpful
[Not pictured: whiny dread about having to work with more people, uuuggghhhh, he'll endure--]
Thank you though
That would be nice
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There's science books so you can brush up if fiction isn't your style.
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I do not mind teamwork
Or fiction
One has to wonder what kind of story is popular in a place like this
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Personally, I'm still trying to get used to it.
I'll load up some favorites for you and you can tell me what you think! There's all kinds of stuff in the library database.
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I have never been on a very large team personally until recently back home
But
Well
Here we are
I will give you my most honest reviews
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Thank you 💕
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Technically I was stolen
There was a heist and I made myself part of the bounty in exchange for my assistance with the security system
as it was one of mine
Terribly out of date
Oh yes that being said the thieves took me in
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What are they like? Are they good thieves?
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A fellow practitioner of the myriad sciences and magics et al
I would say they are quite good as they did steal a whole spectre
Their bookkeeper in particular is a marvel
Together they are quite
hmm
Adept
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Aw, even after death you can make friends!
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Possibly fewer
How steady is your drawing hand
?
I would not go so far as friends yet but perhaps someday
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That's still exciting. Better than being alone.
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Only one however
And yes that much is true
I do enjoy them
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The singular scoff is only a bit of fun
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Why would I want to add additional characters when the requisite bunch are hassling enough
And also
[......normal person manners: don't say "why do I care about being clear for other people," maybe.]
never mind it is only tedious
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Spare yourself the effort
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Wear a helmet
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You still looking for a blood donor?
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Yes and always
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[ Someone did, in fact, read his thread with Charles. ]
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I stand corrected
However
Yes for the vessel and the alchemy
Are you alright
?
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As it happens I do know how she must feel
Did you speak with her
before
?
I imagine she is waiting patiently
That said whenever you are free we can meet
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So do you. If you want help making a body, I'm in. I'm free any time, trust me.
[ Once Root decides she likes someone, she isn't shy in the least about sharing it. She hadn't realized at first that Octavian isn't comfortable in his status as a ghost, but she sure has been stalking network conversations and has since learned his displeasure with it. Which means she'll support his plans to fix it. ]
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He'll adjust. Probably.]
The road is long
Allegedly the journey is just as valuable as the destination
Which is to say
Thank you
I will send you a list of supplies I am missing
If you would be so kind
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And she's the type of ally, and friend, who doesn't need to agree with someone else's plans to support them. Doesn't need to know all the details. That type of unconditional faith comes naturally to her. ]
Doesn't seem like we have much else to do stuck here in simulation purgatory. I don't mind a goal, even if it's a personal one.
I'm sure I can manage supplies.
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How much ammonia can you acquire
And saltpeter
?
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Alright
3.2 liters of ammonia
625 grams of saltpeter
Would not say no to extra of course
move to action??
I'll need a few days to do it cleanly. Let me know where you want the delivery and we can get started.
thumbs up emoji
Very archaic
[How quaint! But he sends along a location ping to an out of the way house. Whenever she does inevitably arrive, it's a bit dilapidated and dusty and vine-covered, but he likes it for the out of the way aspect.]
I will see you soon
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She doesn't have a single criticism about his hideout, not when it's practical, not when he's already dead. Root enters with a spring in her step and a bag slung over her shoulder like she's a particularly merciless version of Santa. She's wearing fake glasses and a lab coat over bland professional clothes and sensible boots. ]
Is this a real haunted house or what? [ she calls out by way of greeting. ] I heard there was a ghost here.
the great workshop search
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
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.
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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. ]
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With some effort he shuts the door before drifting over towards Viktor; he doesn't sit, but makes the pretense of leaning his arm on the back of one of the other chairs out of habit.]
I have been looking into spaces where I am able.
[Again, sometimes making doors obey him is too much trouble, and he has a completely rational fear of having to phase through anything like his ghostly form might suggest he can with ease. That's not relevant to the search for real estate, though, so,]
We should begin with your nonnegotiable requirements. I would hate to waste our time.
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I mean — thank you. [ he has the urge to cough, except if he starts he might not stop, so he swallows that down and digs out his notes. ]
It needs to be within a walking distance. [ obviously. ] I believe two rooms will suffice — an office and a workshop. I... well, if the office is large enough for a bed, that would be preferrable. [ he knows his penchant for sleeping in the lab, might as well plan for that in advance. ]
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It is... mutually advantageous.
[They're not in need of the same accommodations by any means, but there's a nonzero chance that a more accessible building will suit them both better than the alternative. If Viktor happens to hate a given option, Octavian can consider it...]
Reasonably spacious. [He nods; he gets it, not that he needs a bed in the office himself, but he's slept in weird places historically. Totally normal.] And what of the appliances. Refrigeration is a must for me.
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and it is a nice change, really, that octavian accepts his wish for a bed in his workshop so easily... most would have given him a lecture about sleeping in the lab. thank you for being of sound mind, octavian. ]
Hmm, yes, I suppose it could be useful. Not a must — I do not dabble in alchemy. Tell me, how familiar are you with techmaturgy?
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Techmaturgy... I have not heard the word before.
[But he knows how language works, so it's not hard to figure out what it probably means. He raises an eyebrow curiously, drifting around to perch on the arm of the chair he's haunting; putting a pin in real estate to talk about things-with-"tech"-in-them—]
Magical technology, is that correct. In life I was an inventor first. Before alchemy. And I have dabbled in the magical arts.
[He can't actually show much more interest without sort of dissolving around the edges, but maybe his unblinking stare and the way he tilts forward a bit can stand in for that. Tell him all the details.]
Then you require space for machinery.
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[ it is alright that octavian can't show his interest in more obvious ways — it is enough for viktor that he very clearly has the spectre's undivided attention, enough so that he is perching on the chair, leaning towards him slightly.
in turn, viktor leans forward, too, gripping his crutch for support. ]
So you were an inventor? Fascinating. You must tell me of your inventions some time. [ as soon as possible, in fact, but he recognises that he needs to explain this first. ] Where I come from, magic was thought to be something only the mages could use, innate, inherent. But Hextech... proved that wrong. [ his voice is animated in a way it hasn't been until now. ]
I cannot continue Hextech here, I lack some necessary materials, but... I wish to see what there is that I could do. So, yes, I require space for machinery.
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He nods - yes, he would love to talk about inventions one of these days, of course - but doesn't interrupt. There's this idea again that magic is somehow a circumstance of one's birth rather than a thing to be taught, he's heard that from people here already; strange, to be sure.]
A larger facility. Spacious. Of course. [He nods, glancing to the side, recalling a few buildings he's seen... hmm. And,] That drive towards innovation is admirable.
[To bring magic to the people, that is, so he figures he should add,] Magic is not innate where I am from. It is taught and learned like any skill. An instrument.
[And if it isn't like that where Viktor is from, but one could do it with a physical object, there must be a physical medium for magic? Fascinating. He will have to ask about this later, too.]
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[ there is more to say here, and maybe one day viktor will say it all; but as it is, he falls silent, listens to octavian speak of how magic is simply a skill in his home, something to be learned like anything else. ]
... I see. How different that must be. And did you learn it, too?
[ genuine curiosity enters his voice, once more, as he lifts his head and looks at octavian. ] You said you were an inventor. Is alchemy only a necessity? [ given his, hm, unfortunate state of being. ]
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Magic, instead, is fun and uplifting, at least in his experience.]
My parents were magicians. Quite famous. Their notoriety came with expectations for my brother and I.
[So he learned, and it was nice, and it might have been mostly a family bonding thing, but at least some of it helped him out with his... predicament. He lifts a hand to wave it this way and that, for Viktor's next question; yes, maybe, sort of?]
Alchemy was a hobby at first. A personal project. Like all alchemists I was interested in defeating death itself. [A beat, and a pointed glance down at, well, himself. Ha ha,] One of these days.
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the distraction of octavian's parentage is much welcome, and viktor focuses on that fully... even when he speaks of alchemy and defeating death, because that again strikes a little too close to home, with the potential he now believes the hexcore to possess, if only the price of it all wasn't far too much to bear. ]
You are dead, but not gone. That is ingenuity already. [ partial, though, and viktor's tone is — well, from someone else this might come across as placating, condescending even, a but you're doing so well already; from viktor, it's just a fact, nothing more. octavian is very obviously a smart man, and it'd be stupid to pretend otherwise... and equally stupid to treat it like it's somehow a victory in and of itself. ] But I suppose it is much like working with the arcane — a lot of trial and error.
[ anyway, let him go back to, ] So you learned magic from your parents? You and your brother?
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Trial and error. Indeed. It was fortunate circumstance that prevented my oblivion in the first place.
[Because if he hadn't been following that age-old alchemist's dream to defeat death, would he have had the groundwork available to pull himself back from the void at all? Doubtful, he knows; he can acknowledge the success he's reached like this, despite the impossibility of the odds, and still be frustrated about the stalled-out nature of progress. Thirty years wasted! Ridiculous.
But at least he's out of that goddamn room.]
You speak as if learning magic is uncommon. We were taught together. Yes.
[He says this like, of course they were, they're siblings, why wouldn't they have been brought up the same. Oh and also there was magic and it was ordinary, yeah, true.]
Some are more adept at it than others. But anyone can learn the theory of magic. At the very least.
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but back to magic, ]
A skill like any other. How is magic viewed, then? Something as commonplace as any aspect of science? Feared or respected? [ a pause. ] You said your parents were magicians, no? What did they... do with it?
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Anyway, many questions... His parents are the most interesting part in his opinion, so he'll start with them,]
My parents dealt in enchantments. Mostly. A fireplace that would burn indefinitely. A door locked without a key. And so on. They could manipulate the elements to an extent. When I was a boy they enchanted my glasses to never break.
[Not this present pair of glasses, obviously, even besides how they're not exactly "real" anymore anyway. But it remains a fond memory, so it's worth mentioning.
Now, less warm and fuzzy and more lecture-like, although it's not much of a difference,]
Magic is among the sciences. The materials are changed. But many of the concepts overlap. [....,] Well. I am behind the times these days. I can only assume.
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Curious, how different the same concept may be, when one changes the surroundings in which it appears.
[ and then, after a slight pause, ] They sound remarkable people. [ his parents, obviously. it's something he needs to add, his focus always first on the information and second on the emotion, but that doesn't mean it's not sincerely meant. ]
... And you? Are you capable of these enchantments, as well? Since they taught you, you must have been, at a point in time. [ but whether his ghostly nature has changed that, well. he'd like to know. ]
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[Which is only funny the first handful of times, because as much as Root tries to ascribe him the mantle of wise old professor, he really does not have that much patience for explaining himself for ultimately no reward. Could people whose changed surroundings end in "pfft alchemy is fake and magic isn't real" just move on and not ask him anything, for god's sake...
Anyway. He agrees on that point, in any case. About the concepts. The aside about his parents earns a brief and small smile, an effort both herculean and automatic, then,]
I was never a master enchanter. But the ideas. Yes. I do remember my formulas. Most of me is enchantment at the moment.
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[ but then, people also have limited understanding of even basic concepts. that is why, even though he wants to help people as a broad concept, he isn't, well. a people-person, by any stretch of imagination. ]
... I see. That makes sense, [ both that he would remember and that his current form is mostly an enchantment, now. carefully, ] Do you believe it could be taught, still? [ and because he's not the type to circle around a point, ] I do not have any hextech crystals here, right now, which means I cannot use the runes I know. But I wonder if I might learn to use yours, to a similar effect.
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[He waves a hand, dismissing entirely everyone who has ever questioned him about alchemy and thinks magic and science are mutually exclusive. These people... would not be welcomed at his alma mater, he supposes.
But, enchantments, yes.]
I would show you. [And the "would" there is important, because he could show anyone, but the list of people he would show is countable on one hand. Congratulations.] If you will show me yours in turn. Inert or otherwise.
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[ and alchemy is no different, of course — he may not be adept at it, but far it be from him to dismiss it entirely.
he considers the offer — and nods. ]
Yes, of course. [ he would hardly expect not to return the favour; besides, he has a feeling octavian will understand the workings of hextech, of how the arcane speaks through the runes. it is not an easy feat to get it all to work, but he thinks octavian may just be such a man who could actually work on hextech, too. ]
I can show you the principle, the runes, all of it... and if I ever get a hextech crystal, more than the principle.
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Like this, for example, mixing together whatever this "hextech" thing really is with his own understanding of alchemy and runes. If he were capable of looking more delighted, he would, but the ghostly dullness of his gaze does sparkle a little more. Yes, show him the crystals... somehow.]
That would be excellent. We will need space to compare runes. [A lot of chalkboards? Or perhaps just a lot of floor space, considering what he's done to his working half of this room. Which brings him back around to,] Shall we browse the local real estate now.
🎀
[ once he has found the appropriate space to work in, of course... and maybe manages to either obtain a hexgem of his own, somehow, or persuade jinx to part with hers.
but yes, time to get back to business — ]
Yes, let's. [ And Then They Browsed Real Estate! ]
blood donation........ this is a great idea surely
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
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.]
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[ 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. ]
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[Vash... Octavian shuts the door after him and then just watches him look around for a moment before following him over to the chairs. He does not sit, but drifts over to the equipment to prepare the necessary materials.
And oh, they're doing smalltalk, alright. Give him a moment. Um.
Well, it isn't nice, don't lie, anyway,]
I do. It is adequate for the time being. I will be upgrading when I am able.
[Not that he has any money, so he'll figure that out, but.]
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and the good thing is that he can chatter along and run his mouth off regardless of what octavian is doing with all the equipment for the ... procedure. the blood taking. whatever. it's all fine!!!!! totally!!! ]
You mean like a proper clinic? Or is it a laboratory, actually? That'd be cool!
What else will you study apart from this? I mean, when you get a body, of course!
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[This is a question, technically, while he pauses over his supplies. Why would-- oh, ha, because he's taking blood. Very logical, unfortunately he's just a weirdo.]
I am not a doctor. But I have drawn blood before.
[So don't... worry?? Hmm. He turns back to Vash with a cotton swab, already dampened with sterile alcohol.]
I will study whatever I feel like. Roll up your sleeve.
[......,] When I was alive I was an inventor. Perhaps one day I will be again.
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somehow, even with this being pretty much the only reason he'd been invited, vash has completely forgotten about that in order for blood to be drawn, octavian probably needs direct access to skin.
there's only a moment of hesitation, only a second of a break interrupting the flowing chatter that streams from his mouth, before vash takes in a quick inhale of breath, gives octavian a half-nervous, half-self conscious smile, and obligingly rolls up the sleeve of his right arm, bunching the black fabric up past his elbow. ]
.... Sorry.
[ he's probably apologising more for the fact that there doesn't seem to be an inch of skin that isn't covered in some kind of scars or burns or metal plates for him to stick the needle into. ]
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After a moment,] My skull was crushed. I was left there to bleed to death. If I felt shame for my past ills I would get nothing done today.
[So, like........ chill. This is the best he can do at empathy, unfortunately.]
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even if vash says he isn't human (or in as roundabout way as he can admit it, as earlier), octavian will find that he still has fairly human-like vein structure if he does look to find one. at least, he bleeds the same? ]
Oh, [ it sounds a little like surprise, a little shocked, at such a blunt admission - and vash doesn't quite know how to set his expression; concerned? commiserating? it's hard to do when the other man is so matter of fact about it. ]
... Sorry, um, that it happened.
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Do not be. You see. This is what I mean. I make no progress under the bombardment of your concern either. Specifically all of you.
[He doesn't need the sympathy and he doesn't particularly care to tiptoe around the sensitivities of other people about what's happened to him or what he is, actually. It's tedious, but then again, he's been dead for a lot longer than some people here have even been alive, so...
Well, still. Sensitive living people problems. He presses down on the vein.]
You avoid the point. Sympathy in smaller doses. And you apologize too much for everything else.
HOLIDAY GIFT
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.]
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
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.
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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
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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. ]
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Well you are in luck as I have acquired a workspace perfectly suited to keeping a secret
Which you should come and see at your leisure besides
What does your matrix do
Is this the thing that must not be touched
?
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Have you, now? I wonder if the simulation has adapted to our needs, then, since it turns out I too have a proper lab space, finally. However, it is not only mine, which is why it won't do.
[ as a safe space to keep the hexcore, that is. ]
Are you busy right now? The sooner it is out of here, the better. There are too many people from home here... and many have a propensity to show up unannounced.
I will answer your questions once I am there. The less record there is of its capabilities, encrypted or no... the better.
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Would not want to give our captors too much credit
And I did meet someone from your world
The professor
[Dropping that mostly so Viktor can decide and let him know if this professor in particular is someone who shouldn't be allowed to know about this item— not that Octavian is going to run his mouth about any secrets, or honestly, even announce that his personal workshop is here to most people, but still gauge this for him.]
I have time
The new building is behind the old building
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Professor Heimerdinger? I see. Please do not let him know of any of this. There are others, too: Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Miss Medarda, Silco, Ekko... tell none of them, either. I believe most, if not all of them would know of the existence of the hexcore, and they should remain ignorant of its presence here.
The only other who knows of that is my partner. But until we figure out a way to destroy it, I am keeping its location from him, too.
[ because CLEARLY SOMEONE CANNOT BE TRUSTED WITH IT, anyway — ]
I will be there shortly.
[ and he will, in so little time that it's obvious he's literally thrown the hexcore into a relatively secure box, the box in a bag, thrown on his coat and left. ]
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[And now he can honestly say Viktor has mentioned them, if any of them happen to cross his path one of these days. But oh, Silco too—meh—and the Medarda woman, she seemed intelligent...
That's so many people. He can't even name that many people from home he'd want to see here. Scary concept, to have so many people around who cannot know about the mysterious danger object.
No matter: he doesn't send another message, simply waiting for Viktor to arrive. The new building is behind his house, as promised, a modest one-story affair made of brick and painted black. There's a space over the double doors for a sign, but it's gone now, and the doors are unlocked; it's a business, after all. The front room is an office with a small area to sit around a table and conduct said business near the front window, a desk in the back, some display cases around sparsely populated with small machines of perhaps not so obvious purposes.
Octavian sticks his head out of one of the two doors in the back of the room when he hears Viktor arrive, gesturing for him to come this way. Please come see his steampunk workshop, cramped and cluttered and with just as many notes scribbled on non-paper surfaces as the living room in his house. It's definitely a workshop for tinkering and building more than an alchemy lab, but then, this is his actual job, so...]
Hello. What do you think?
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he does arrive, a bag slung over his shoulder (and it's a bag resembling a large ikea bag in size, except with a zipper holding it closed), and it's clear he's managed the trip mostly through sheer willpower and abject panic... which is, admittedly, receding somewhat now that he's here and the hexcore hasn't done anything terrible during the trip. so he can actually focus on taking a look at the new building; it's the small machines that instantly catch his interest, and then the workshop proper even more so.
he sets the bag on the floor carefully, and then moves around the space. ]
This is your workshop, from your home? [ yes, small though it is, he likes it quite a lot. ] Small, but very nice.
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It is. Cold storage is in the back. The other room, [the second door from the back of the office,] was intended to be a break room of sorts.
[It changed into a workshop of its own fairly quickly, though, just even smaller. There's still a fridge in it, anyway, so that's break room ish.]
These days it is bigger. But this is the workshop I remember. [How nostalgically pleasant, although he lets it hang for a beat, because it's also incredibly suspect.] So our captors' methods of creating these places delves directly into the psyche. Hmm. Would you care for a refreshment?
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the fact that it is — what, created out of octavian's memory? is something both incredibly interesting and faintly horrifying in its implications, and viktor's brows knit together as he says, ] That makes a shocking amount of sense. It is an approximation of our consciousness, real or created, which resides here — so it is from that they are creating these... additions.
[ also, ] Perhaps later. [ right now, he feels still vaguely ill over the hexcore, and though it had receded it is back with a vengeance now as he thinks about it in this context, having been not brought here but replicated from his memories —
oh yes, he definitely doesn't want to even attempt to drink anything right now. ]
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Speaking of care, though - this object on the floor and how much it unsettles Viktor. Hmm. He gestures down at it.]
I feel cold storage might be an inappropriate hiding place. There is a safe in the other room, instead.
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[ it is simply a fact, as much as he prefers to, in fact, create things from scratch himself — but for the simulation, is it certainly more expedient to drag things out of their memories, thoughts, plans, than to have to code into existence something that does not exist even as a part of their consciousness.
but, right, back to the hexcore in the room, ]
Is it large enough? [ the safe, that is. viktor leans down to open the bag, revealing a metallic container large enough to take up nearly the entire bag (one that he'd created, some weeks ago, as a just in case measure) — the box is tightly held together by latches, all of which have a panel on them.
he presses the fingertip of his un-gloved index finger against the panel, and it flashes green; as it clicks open, a seam opens just slightly to let out an intense glow of purple. ]
It cannot be opened without me, [ he says, which ostensibly makes it safe enough... but clearly he doesn't think so, being here and all. slowly, he opens another latch, something that makes it possible to open a side of the box just a little; and then he backs off immediately as the glow of purple almost seems to reach for him through the opening. ]
This is the adaptive rune matrix I told you of... I call it the hexcore. [ please look at it now if you want to, until it will be packed up again and stuffed in the safe, ]
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[If they, too, are just copies in a computer somewhere, specifically; after all, wouldn't it be easier to copy an entire psyche and then go from there, than to continuously pull things out of it? But he says it like it isn't that important, because to him, it isn't - just something that would reframe how to go forward.
And as he comes over to crouch down and peek at the hexcore, like, immediately, with a shrug,] I can remove the shelves in the safe.
[Then it should be big enough! It's not like there's going to be much else in there in the realm of money or paperwork, because he doesn't intend to open this place up for public business, so if it exists only to house this container, then at least it'll get some use.
Ooh, purple. He's careful not to lean too close, recalling the prior warning about how this thing could destroy a person, keeping his hands folded on his bent knees to resist the urge. Purple magic... do not touch... Interesting just to peer at the glow, but more than that,]
It knows you.
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[ he has considered this, too — has heard different theories about their existence here, so even before this, he'd thought about it; that they might just be copies of themselves, forever removed from their original selves. it is just one more complication on an endless road of complications, however, and the hexcore is the most immediate one on that very road.
from the opening on the side of the box, octavian can see something move inside it — the purple glow, yes, but also pointed ends, circular holes, looking almost natural, shifting and turning as if alive.
viktor stares at the floor. ]
Yes, it does. It is linked to me, and I to it.
[ slowly, he reaches for his hand; removes the glove that has been ever-present on their every meeting thus far. beneath it, his hand is undeniably purple, almost metallic-looking. ]
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But then, if Viktor hadn't told him about it before, he wouldn't think it seeking for anything, and would definitely have tried to touch it by now, so perhaps that's a bias. He looks away from it finally to Viktor—and down to his hand, speaking of touching it.]
I see. [The warnings, the haunted way Viktor speaks of it and looks at it, hm, this was not an intentional... purpling. Galvanizing. Whichever.] But locked in my safe it will not link with anyone else.
[For the best, yes, he's seeing that. He reaches out one lone index finger not towards the hexcore, but towards Viktor's newly exposed hand. Danger does not erase curiosity unfortunately, and it does seem like Viktor's unfortunate hand isn't going to literally eat him, so,] May I?
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[ but he's been wrong before about this particular topic, of course. and yet, that one sentence betrays a myriad of others — why he is here, now, why he is seeking to hide the hexcore away; not entirely for fear others would seek to misuse it, no. but that he himself would, that there might come a moment when he is so tired, so angry, so something that he would turn to it once again, or let it into his mind like a whisper and a hook, let it reel him in until he's out of strength to fight it.
he's afraid of it, yes, but even more he is afraid of himself.
the question gives him a pause, though only a short one; one that he follows with a nod. he trusts octavian more than he trusts himself — and perhaps he's puzzled out as much, by now. his mind is blade-sharp, after all. so why would he say no to this? ]
My leg is the same, [ he says as he holds out his hand, knowing the cold metallic feel of it will be very different from his flesh-and-blood body. ] That was intentional. This was not.
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The safe will do, then; anything remaining curiosities can go on a list and he'll ask Viktor about them whenever the mood strikes him. Like now, with the purple hand.]
Did it help, [he asks quietly, about the leg. Could this thing be harnessed, with enough study, for a fuller restoration of mobility, or something else? Speaking of curiosities.
There's still a hand held out for him to touch though, and he turns away from the hexcore to reach out with both hands, one to catch Viktor's lightly underneath and the other to run his fingers over Viktor's fingers and drag towards his wrist. Oh, yes, that's very different from the expected fleshy experience, and the engineer part of Octavian can't help marveling at the smoothness of it, as an apparently metallic object. Where are the hinges, the creases, the corners? It must be some fusion of the organic flesh and something more synthetic...
Well, as synthetic as the hexcore-which-is-debatably-alive can make a thing. He presses his thumb into the center of Viktor's palm, not hard, but there.]
Do you feel it?
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Yes. Yes, it did. [ and isn't that the worst thing? for a time, it did help. but the cost of it was far too high. ] I tried to use it to cure myself. There is no medicine in Runeterra that could do it. But the Hexcore, it can interact with organic matter — mutate it, with the right runic commands, and with the organic matter... braced for the change.
[ he does chuckle then, humourless and dry. ] I was dying. I thought I didn't have anything to lose. It tried to drag me to it, for what, I do not know... but my assistant intervened. It killed her for it.
[ he gives this account quietly, the guilt never once leaving his voice, even as octavian runs his fingers over his hand; it's a nice distraction, and easier to speak while the other is focused on something else, not looking directly at him.
as for the question, ] Yes, I do. It is not the same kind of feeling as before, but... it is a feeling.
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I see. So that is what you meant.
[Accidents happen in the lab, that isn't anything new. Oversight sometimes falls to the wayside, but neither of those are what this is about. Octavian has no experience with something like this, of course not, but he can imagine the depth of regret for such an accident; if Sterling had been hurt any point by his myopic work habits, if Emory is hurt one day by his willingness to help their gang...]
We can be blinded by things larger than ourselves. Progress. Emotions. Desperation.
[Speaking as a thing that should not be, in his opinion, he gets it. This is not an absolution, but he could see himself on the other side of this easily enough.]
I am sorry about your assistant.
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he opens his eyes, thinks about the mirrors, the first time the two of them met. ] You've seen it, [ he says, quiet, the words fighting through the sandpaper of his throat. ] The mirrors. The woman in them. She had such dreams.
[ he turns his hand, then, grips octavian's suddenly, not particularly hard even as he does it for support. and he could not speak of this, could lie — but he doesn't want to. best scatter it all on the floor in front of them, all the pieces of the truth, so octavian can look at the entire sorry picture and decide what he wants to do with it. ]
The worst thing is that I believe it can do it. Cure me, that is. Your quest for defeating death — I believe the Hexcore can do that. [ lifting his head, he looks actively miserable as he looks directly at octavian, ] Does it make me a coward if I would rather give up and die than use it?
[ but he has allowed so much, bent his principles when he never should have, when he should have left, should have gone back to zaun and helped those who don't matter to the upper echelons of piltover; he tried and he tried to extend his own life, believing that the good sense he trod on would be counterbalanced by all the good he could still do... and yet, this is the one principle he will not cross. he will not use something that has no regard for human life, something so chaotic and unpredictable, something that will only continue to bring more chaos if it keeps existing — he wants to live, yes, but not like this. not as whatever he would be, after.
(and he knows there's going to be an after — knows he lives, knows how, knows and doesn't want to — ) ]
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He's sure many would think so, even after the things Viktor has seen the core do. Even after it ate a woman, many might consider him a coward, or at the very least, selfish— or both of those things in the first place, for trying to experiment with it at all. Octavian shakes his head and looks back down at their hands, using his free hand now to trace lines down the back of Viktor's hand, from knuckles to wrist.]
No. Cowardice is subjective. [First of all, there's that,] Therefore so is this. But no.
We are each of us a bulwark against the undiscovered, [he goes on, and we and us are not just people but the things they themselves are, specifically: innovators, inventors, scientists.] It would be worse if we were to cast off ethics and oversight... and fear.
[He glances over at the case, still vaguely pulsing from inside, waiting for one of them to get close enough. Viktor says the thing could cure his ills, could finish Octavian's work, but the human cost... No, there are some unknowns that cannot be leapt into purely for progress, or interest, or just to see what happens.]
You have seen the thing I truly am. Facsimile. Abomination. Even this- [his body, that will reject his soul in a few hours because it must certainly know better,] I would not wish on another. I would fail before I ensnare another in my terrible fate.
[So no; there are lines that must not be crossed, wherever they land for any one of them. And that was a lot of talking at once, for him, so he huffs and shifts to sit cross-legged and slouch, squeezing Viktor's hand as he does. Exhausting...]
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and when he sits in a slouch, the squeeze signaling the end of his words, viktor nods, feeling equally exhausted for a different reason. ]
There are things a soul should not endure.
[ octavian's, specifically, to be made to exist in that kind of in-between state, constantly fighting to remain; he understands the necessity, but it doesn't make it any less wrong for his soul, his state, his existence.
but speaking of fates; he sighs, then, shoulders sagging as he speaks out the final piece: ] It is my fate, if not my choice. To be cured by it. From what state, I don't know — but if I am ever sent back like so many of those from my world have been, I don't know who I will be when I come back. [ with a wry, sad quirk of his lips, ] Perhaps we shall match.
[ abominations, both of them in their own ways. still, ] As long as I have the choice, this is a line I will not cross.
[ he falls silent, then, squeezes octavian's hand in an echo. ] ... Thank you. For all of this. [ for taking the hexcore, for listening, for understanding. it all means more to him than he can properly express. ]
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And he has no point of comparison for this other thing, the horror- he has to assume- of knowing in advance one's fate is not what they wanted. Petty consequence of Aldrip's apparent disinterest in anyone else from his home, unlike Viktor's, so very... represented here. It must be dreadful.
He pats Viktor's hand sympathetically, at least.]
You know what they say about misery, [ha ha, if they are indeed to match—but choice, choice is everything, so,] Still. To be what I am is not... so miserable. I hope it is not how I will be forever. But...
[But, how does he word this, hm, he pauses for a moment and looks to the side, thinking. He's got more words, here goes.]
But I must gaze back in the mirror at the choices I have made. And these are mine. That matters.
[Even if they're terrible choices, he got to make them, and that counts for something.
Then, with another small smile, though not as tired,] If I had made other choices I would not have met you.
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and perhaps that is what chafes him, in turn; that he had chosen, had decided that he would see death rather than let the hexcore affect him, and then jayce had neatly ripped that choice from his hands. and those from home, they're not subtle; jinx with her taunts and strange concern over his mind, vi and caitlyn both checking up on him, making sure he was still himself, even the professor, looking at him with something like sympathy — they all know a version of him different from who he is today, a version he becomes not at all because he wants to. choice is everything, yes, and he's not had a choice over so many things in so, so long.
and the choices he has made? terrible, horrible things, and when octavian smiles and says if i had made other choices i would not have met you, viktor's mind whirs to a stop, halts abruptly like a machine paused, his eyes wide and mouth half-open.
because here he is, with his worst invention in a box on the floor, the whole tragic tale spilled out between them, every single puzzle piece held in octavian's smooth hands, and still —
still, he thinks... this?
for a long moment, he remains still, silent — his chest both hurts and feels terribly light, and it's only been some tens of seconds, and yet something's shifted in between them.
finally, he manages, with a small, soft smile, ] Actually, I think it is because of the simulation that you met me. Not through any choice on either of our parts, since we were hardly given a choice to be here.
[ his words may say all of that, but his tone says thank you, and the warmth in his eyes says i am glad our choices combined brought us here in the end. ]
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And please,] Semantics. You cannot change my mind by being difficult.
[Ha. As far as Aldrip is concerned, his crime is refusing to stay dead, so if that is indeed the case— then to have chosen differently would have changed this, QED, and so on. It doesn't matter; Viktor can say anything here and Octavian will understand. Does, now, like this. Their choices are the things that matter, and if his choices have led him here, he can go forward with the satisfaction of understanding another person on this level.
And the satisfaction of putting that look on Viktor's face. He smooths his thumb over the back of Viktor's hand idly for a bit longer, maybe a minute, maybe less. Eventually he looks away, back at the case.]
Shall we prepare the safe?
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Yes, [ he says, because of course they need to do it — best be rid of the thing as soon as they can. the work on the safe isn't difficult, fortunately; removing the shelves is an easy thing to do, and then the safe is ready for the entire metallic box to be shoved inside it, with viktor locking the box itself up tightly first.
he doesn't really breathe properly until the safe door clicks shut.
when it does, though, he can finally think of something else — and the something else is in his pocket, where he reaches into and pulls out a perfectly spherical gem that glows lightly blue. ]
I almost forgot, [ he says as he holds it out for octavian to take, ] This is a hextech gemstone. It appeared when the hexcore did. I promised I'd show you one. And now we can use it however we want. I thought perhaps, if we can combine your magical engineering with hextech... we could make something more than a machine operated by humans. Something that could move and act on its own.
[ there is a life to his words, like the misery from earlier had also sapped him of the kind of animated energy that he shows, now; his lips tilt into a smile, then, eyebrows raising slightly, ] Your spectral form makes some things difficult, no? Perhaps whatever we create could help you around here. I would like to use the crystal to help you, if I can.
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So the sudden appearance of the gemstone is a surprise, if only for its innocent beauty after staring into the shifting eye of its pseudo-living cousin. Pretty and blue and finely formed, and Octavian accepts it and holds it up in the center of his palm to look at it more closely. Very nice, indeed...]
For me? [Oh, that's interesting, he didn't know this body was equipped with a warmth to bloom in his chest until just now, hm!] A... custodian of sorts.
[Both in the sweeping sense and the looking after him sense, really, because he is quite awful to behold in the last moments of his physical body. He may one day need looking after.]
I would like that. And I would like to work with you. [Ah, after all these years, to work with someone again—] Come and see my proper workshop. There may be tools I am missing that I will need help in identifying.
[Also he wants to show it off, come and see.]
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Yes, exactly. And making a functional robot of sorts should prove interesting.
[ his smile is no wider than the usual light tilt of his lips, but there is a brightness to him now, a direct contrast to how wan and sorrowful he seemed there with the hexcore; and that alone is perhaps enough on its own to show that yes, he would very much like this, too. working on it, together.
though, wryly, ]
I will warn you, you may have to kick me out. I tend to keep working when I can. And I am unused to working with anyone but Jayce, but... [ a tilt of his head, a half-smile, to say but i think we will be fine. he has a feeling. ]
Yes, do show me. [ the workshop, but also the (possible lack of) tools, ]
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But first the workshop, and as he pushes open the door,]
You need not worry about that. I will inevitably excuse myself to, hm, [he gestures at himself rather than finish the thought, as if to say you know; when this body runs out of time he would prefer to dissolve out of it in private. Other than that,] But I also enjoy the rush of productivity.
[So that's all well and good. The workshop is cluttered,l and only somewhat organized by discipline; beakers and mixers clustered on one desk and set of shelves, while the tools meant for moving metal and putting things together are more or less on the other side of the room, in their own area. What is there is high quality, of course, but he definitely lacks in many useful tools for working with crystal or other stone. They just weren't that type of workshop, back in the day.
Many of the flat surfaces do feature his handwriting scrawled around where it was convenient; that isn't a habit he got into only after death.
(There isn't a cot, because the cot is back in the other room, with the safe. Ahem.)
Just walking into the room makes him an iota more animated, gesturing at it all with pride.]
What do you think?
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absently, he runs his fingers over a patch of his handwriting, tracing the scrawl with a slight smile before he turns back to octavian. ]
Excellent, [ he says and not as a compliment, not really, but because he means it; it is excellent, perfect for the purpose, with a stronger character to it than the white laboratory space he is used to inhabiting. ]
I will make a list of what is missing. I'm sure it will be easy to procure what is still needed... it is not much. [ read: the space is well-equipped, he approves. ]
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Viktor knowing what he's doing as he looks around is also nice to see; he already had faith in Viktor's knowledge, so the insight is valuable.]
You think so? Let me know if I can assist in finding anything.
[Read: he'll ask Root to find him something, which still counts.]
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[ and probably have jayce question where they've gone, but that's a problem for future viktor. with a glance at the crystal there in octavian's hand, ]
Hextech, with the right runes, provides a sort of... hm, one might call it a zero-gravity function. We do not have to worry about the heaviness of the alloy that we use, the gemstone will counter that. A combination of steel and carbon has proved to be quite durable.
I have, however, never tried to create something that moves and is capable of performing tasks on its own. [ so hopefully octavian has some ideas for how to go about that... ]
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[They are but two twiggy guys, after all, and Octavian would hate to have to ask for additional help from locals who can lift big sheets of metal. They were bad enough to make small talk with when he had to move furniture in his house.]
As for the automation... I can draft a few formulas. It will not think for itself. Perfroming tasks is very doable, however.
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but he hopes it will work... and if not, perhaps he can wheedle vi into carrying things for them. she might just agree. ]
No, we are not about the create yet another artificial intelligence here. [ the one that exists is already doing badly enough without a baby artificial intelligence inside another artificial intelligence, dear gods. ] That it perform tasks is plenty.
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[Embrace creative solutions for lifting things instead of talking to people, Viktor, it's great— They'll see, anyway.
He waves a hand like no, no, no more AIs.] I would not know how to craft a whole intelligence regardless. Outside of my various disciplines. And someone would undoubtedly try to kill it like they did to the previous intelligence here.
[Imagine, if someone came for his son... terrible.]
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[ in practice — well, yes. they will see.
and then he is busy making a face of complete affront, at the idea of someone harming this as-of-yet hypothetical robot (their son, excuse —) ]
No one will touch it. [ a thoughtful pause. ] I wonder if we should equip it with a self-defense protocol, just in case. [ the hextech crystal will, after all, act like a small nuke under the right circumstances and with the right runes... or a rocket launcher. and while he is adamant about not creating weapons, well, the robot isn't going to be one; and should it come across one of the monsters or something else here, for it to be able to protect itself sounds reasonable. ]
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I doubt it will have much reason to leave this building. Still. Just in case. Perhaps.
[Probably the best course of action is making it cute, then no one will bother it— They'll get there. Octavian smiles again.]
Either way. Let us get to work soon. I am looking forward to it.
🎀 puts a lil gay bow on this
Only if you need it to.
[ it will be designed to stay here, in any case. echoing that smile, viktor looks at him and nods; it is... a nice feeling, to think of working together, to simply look forward to it without feeling any trace of lingering frustration, something that has accompanied him in the lab back home for too long now. ]
Whenever you want. If you do not want to kick me out, we could get started on the plans now.
[ And Then They Did Just That. ]
backdated to root's dec 20 network post;
or is root pulling my leg
oh charles
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
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?
the conspiracy board of uncle lore
I designed the security system you see
Recently I have aided their explosives expert in his work
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you know, you're pretty cool
[ or he's easily impressed, could be both ]
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I did not know I was being judged
Did she say any other questionable things about me
?
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i'd think you're cool no matter what
that just makes you coolER
oh uh hold on let me check
she called you a professor
and martian
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One of those is correct
I was never actually a tenured professor
But I did give guest lectures a number of times
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but huh. did i know that you're from mars? i'm pretty sure i knew you're not from earth
did you like giving lectures?
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I do not remember
The response to that one is always the same
"Oh goodness Mars really"
Yes and it is very red just like in the photographs
I enjoyed the lectures on an academic level
That is about it
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well, seeing how there's people from all different types of places here, mars isn't too weird. sorry about the lack of scenery, though
hah, that sounds like you, too. can't really see you being too excited to deal with students
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I will be cool
I did not hate Mars
Then again I did not leave the planet at any point
Still it was nice enough
And yes I would hate to be a permanent faculty member in any capacity
Ew
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would you like to? i mean, when you figure out how to revive yourself? or are you gonna stick around after
[ when, of course it's when. he has no doubts octavian can manage it eventually.
also, not pictured: charles bursting out laughing so hard he falls right through a chair at that "ew", ]
damn, that's the most savage "ew" i've ever read
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It would not be impossible once I have finished my business
However I doubt my nephew is interested in travel
[oh,]
Also I have a nephew
You have clearly not met enough university students
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sterling's son? how did you not say anything before about having living family still
forget about the university students, i wanna know about your nephew. what's he called? what's he like? so he knows about you?
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I am the same man who forgot to mention Mars you will recall
In any case I did not know about him until recently
He was born after I died
His name is Emory and he is a sweet boy
Too sweet to admit I make him nervous
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right, so from now on any time you mention anything i will have to ask if there's ten other relevant things you've forgotten, got it
recently? so after you got out of that room, i'm guessing
[ he... isn't going to ask about the nervous part, because that's a bit sad, actually. ]
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I would rather not guess what other people are interested in knowing
[Imagine wasting his time like that, hmm.]
He was there actually
With the other miscreants
I was a surprise to all of them of course
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damn, that's one hell of a coincidence
and right, because ghosts aren't really a thing there, yeah? i remember
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You are remembering correctly though yes
If there are spirits they are less than sentient
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well, just makes you special, don't it
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No I do not think so
[And he really, profoundly objects to being a Special Ghost, but since Charles is just trying to be a nice boy as always, he's just going to ignore that.]
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[ truthfully, he mostly meant special in terms of being smart enough to do something no one else had managed — but he's ever attuned to the way people respond to things, and octavian ignoring that doesn't go unnoticed; right, so he's going to avoid saying that in the future, then. ]
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Our Hiram is a collector of valuable things
From what I have been told my nephew and his cohorts intended to retrieve an old project my brother and I had worked on
Gathering dust in its stupid little case
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they broke in to steal that, and stumbled across you. well, good luck that, then, yeah?
are you, uh, enjoying your career change?
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I have been here longer than I have been with my nephew and his cohorts by now
It was different though
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so... they're good people, then? those who got you out. i mean, your nephew is obviously, but the rest, too
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Rambunctious
Talkative as well
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well, for what it's worth, i'm glad you've found good people to be with
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And thank you
Perhaps one day I will see them again
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yeah, maybe. do you... want to go back home? i mean, i'm guessing most people do
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And I have not decided
I am not in any rush really
Besides I am dead either way
I recall that being a popular argument in favor of staying
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so you've got time
and yeah, i guess. for people who've got nothing to go back to, i get it
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Why do you ask
Have you been thinking about returning home
?
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uh, no, not really. i mean, i'm fine here
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[Which means he is also fine, but god forbid he say it like a normal person.]
Although I doubt it will happen after this long
If my nephew arrives I will introduce you
Cannot discount the possibility
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[ #moralsupport ]
wait, really? i mean
that'd be aces, too. i'd love to meet him
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You are an important person to me
So naturally
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[ no stop he's going to cry — ]
you're important to me too, you know that right?
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You make it very obvious
This is part of your charm to be certain
[But also, no one is ever going to miss Charles' signals.]
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do i? well, that's good then, innit? i wouldn't want you to not know it
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You are a good person to know
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for what it's worth, i think those i know from home would like you too
also a 🎀
Perhaps he would enjoy that chewy boba nonsense more than I do
And you will have to let me know if they arrive
For now though I am glad you and I are both here
here for wobbles--
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
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?
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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. ]
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And when he slots the gem into place and the robot doesn't immediately start zipping around the room, that's a good sign. It whirs to life and spins its whole head around to look at them, and it's very adorable about it.]
An auspicious start. [He bumps his shoulder into Viktor's.] You must issue the first command.
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he smiles at octavian and nods. ]
Yes, it is. [ though, ] Shouldn't that be you? It is intended to be your help, no? Go on.
after the canon updateing,
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. ]
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(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.
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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.
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Octavian hums quietly, lifting his other hand to cup Viktor's face with both, tender but firm. If he lets go of Viktor Aldrip may take him away again, so for the moment, this is good. This is perfect.]
You would not leave intentionally. Still I will always wait.
[Maybe they should burn down the city, actually, just not because any local pyschopaths wanted to—]
I missed you.
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he exhales, then, closes his eyes for a moment, focuses on the feeling of octavian's hands against the uneven metal of his cheeks. he lifts his other hand, cards his fingers through octavian's hair, lets them rest at the nape of his neck. clearly he's in no hurry to let go, either. ]
You're right, I would not. And yet I've caused you pain not once but twice, now.
[ there is the passing thought that even this, something as beautiful as the regard they have for each other, can become a source of pain — but he disregards the thought, to respond, soft and gentle, ]
And I you. Even if I didn't know it.
[ there is a memory, knocking inside of his mind, of a time he'd said something very much like this — and an impulse, a wave of warmth, one he wishes he could spend a moment more to analyse but it urges him to move, to pull octavian forward just a little, to press their lips together once, twice.
as he pulls back, he says, quiet and soft still, ]
I will never forgive them for making me forget you.
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Not entirely; he still crouches here and kisses Octavian and feels the same for him, through two deaths now, is it? It makes Octavian's mock heart flood with warmth at the same time it pierces— tragedy keeps befalling Viktor in one way or another, and if he could stop it...
Well, luckily blowing up buildings has already proven useless, or he'd think about it. He leans further into Viktor, hands sliding down to rest against his neck, and he allows himself the selfish relief that Viktor has returned to him at all, a second time, miraculously. He has never been so lucky before.]
Then next time you will not. [Patterns and more patterns; there will always be a next time.] There must be something that controls the flow of memories here. I will be at its gates when they are forced to open.
[He loves a new project - something to think about.
Leaning back just slightly to consider Viktor, and then without ceremony reaching up to tug the hood down, hm,] Aha. Your hair is longer. It looks nice.