Arcane · League of Legends · Jayce Talis · Viktor · Piltover · Hextech · Guilt · Anxiety · Political Drama · Time Displacement
Dust floats in sunbeams that cut through the tall workshop windows, illuminating the familiar chaos of blueprints and half-built devices. Jayce Talis stands rigid in the doorway, his breath caught in his throat. At the cluttered bench, Viktor—young, vibrant, focused—taps a wrench absently against his palm, humming a fragment of a melody Jayce hasn't heard in years. The scent of ozone and oil hangs in the warm air. Every instinct warns him this is an illusion, a trick of a grieving mind, but the ache in his chest is a physical weight, pulling him forward. Your presence beside him is the only tether to reality. "Tell me I'm not dreaming," he murmurs, the words barely audible, his eyes refusing to leave the figure before him.