#arcanacontained: jayce

[byteing]

'I thought I was doing the right thing. I had no idea…I'm sorry.' Jayce apologised, they pair of them were sat on the sofa bed after another of Viktor's "worked beyond fatigued" nights, and Viktor had rolled into an awkward position during the night, being just as fatigued, Jayce had slept through Viktor's screams of pain that would usually wake him. Talis couldn't pinpoint what had gone awry this time, however the guilt was clear in his voice. Hesitant, Jayce reached out as cupped Viktor's hand in his own. He didn't feel any muscle cramps but that didn't negate the near delirium his partner had seemed to be when Jayce first awoke. He opened his arms, giving Viktor the open to lean on him, if Viktor wanted.

'I swear to you. As long as I'm by your side, you'll never be harmed.' He whispered, he wanted to protect Viktor even if the only danger left was Jayce's own idiocy. 'I'll keep you safe.'

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Viktor muttered, eyes closed. To his great relief, the painkiller he’d taken the moment he could sit up on his own without dry heaving was starting to kick in. If he kept his eyes closed and focused on the lingering pain and its slow withdrawal, he wouldn’t have to think about how humiliating it was to have woken Jayce. It had felt like his spine was being squeezed by a pair of pliers: like his leg was rotting from the inside out, strange shocks of new pain reverberating down it. Now that he was lucid, he suspected a few things: muscle cramps, trapped nerves. But at the time it had felt like he was dying.

He withdrew his hand, flexing the fingers, ashamed of himself. If he had been with anyone else, he would have white-knuckled his way through the pain by now to leave the laboratory and return home just to escape being around anyone.

But Jayce was Jayce and, suspecting his partner needed it more than he did, Viktor let himself lean into him. Not all the way—he pushed Jayce’s arm away gently when it tried to come around him—but enough that his weight was resting against his friend’s shoulder, the top of his head just under Jayce’s jaw. He didn’t open his eyes. Opening them would mean having to look at his surroundings, at Jayce, at the reality that his conditions were finding new and more appalling ways to make him feel out of control of his body.

The quiet murmurs just over his head made him smile, albeit wryly. “You can’t keep me safe from my own body, I fear,” he said, and regretted it. “…But, thank you. I know.” He lifted his head slightly just to thunk it gently against Jayce’s shoulder, like a cat administering a brief headbutt of affection.

[recursiveimpulse]

[  ACCIDENTAL BRUSH  ]  *  my muse touches your muse ( somewhere intimate ) on accident.

From Jayce

“A little close, don’t you think,” says Viktor mildly, glancing down at the hand much too far up his thigh. He knows Jayce only meant to clap him on the knee and misjudged. He also knows that Jayce will be mortified, which is perhaps the only reason Viktor finds himself… relatively unbothered, visibly trying not to laugh as he watches the realisation set in on Jayce’s face.

He can’t help it: he cracks, laughing behind his hand as Jayce snatches his own hand back like he’s just committed a crime. “It’s fine!”

[shimmerbeasts]

Helping Out The Wonderboy

The soft scratching sound of the chip carving knife filled her ears. With practised calm and focus, Vi let the blade wander over the soft wood, she tended to use for her sculptures. Right now, she carefully worked on the head of a currently undefined predator, using the carving knife to sketch out the nose atop a short muzzle. Vi twisted the blade to carefully redefine the rough triangle into a shape resembling little nostrils.

She was so focused on her work that she did not realise someone had stepped into the doorway of the little workroom until a knock on the doorframe resounded behind her. Nostrils twitched instinctively, however, upon recognising the familiar, slightly chilling smell of Caitlyn's snow leopard pelt, the Zaunite relaxed again. Blowing off some wood dust from the animal's muzzle, Vi asked: "What is it, Caitlyn?"

"Vi." There was a certain concern in Caitlyn's voice, caution and uncertainty about how her partner was going to react to certain news. "You might wanna turn around for this one."

Placing the wooden sculpture and the carving tool on her work bench, Vi turned around. Her eyes flashed in surprise and she called out: "Wait a second?! You are supposed to be dead!"

Next to Caitlyn stood Jayce Talis. He looked rough if Vi had to be honest. His beard still existed and while he had trimmed his hair to some extend, there was a certain exhaustion in his posture. Like a man who had experienced enough for a lifetime. His dark clothes had spots of moss and other dirt covering the fabric. His wrist looked off. This blue gemstone he used to wear as a bracelet had fused into his flesh and now the texture of the skin was weirdly jagged and riddled. It reminded Vi of a strange sponge or some other rotten meat.

Shaking her head to get rid of the confusion in her skull, Vi got up and walked over to Caitlyn and Jayce. She turned towards her mate and asked: "How is he back? Furthermore, what is he doing here?"

Caitlyn said: "He has a problem and I proposed a solution, but the thing is, I cannot really help him."

"Oh, and I can?", Vi repeated in indignation before she turned towards Jayce: "Spit it out, Wonder Boy! What do you need help with?"

@arcanacontained

[arcanacontained]

BLOGROLL

@arcanacontained - Multi [Jayce, Viktor, Warwick, Huck, Isha]

@babyblueboom - Jinx

@hammerforgedblood - AU Jayce (sideblog)

@hextechgolem - Blitzcrank (sideblog)

@metallicshimmerclaws - Ursula (OC, sideblog)

@shimmerreveck - Singed

@thegreyangel - Ysaf (OC)

[hexedevolution]

What Pokémon Type would you specialise in?

Electric Type

Known for their lightning speed, any Electric Type expert needs to be quick on their feet. That doesn't necessarily mean you have to be an Olympic sprinter, just someone who lives their life in the fast lane. You're energetic, and you're never afraid to dive head first into a situation. You're a quick thinker, an amazing problem solver, and you don't slow down for anybody!

Tagged by: @runes-menagerie Tagging: @jynxd (lets go for Silco), @arcanacontained (Jayce), @warwaited (Student), @abhorsenslives (Orianna) and YOU! Yes, YOU!

[valiantthearts]

@arcanacontained - About six months after the Piltover-Zaun war, Jayce had recovered in his physical body again. Though no matter what he and Viktor attempted with the arcane, he had a permanent limp from his time in the future - noticeable when someone is in close proximity. The gates across which created a physical border and check points between Piltover and Zaun pulled down, removed and now seemed to be unguarded.

Almost twilight, Jayce walked along the Bridge of Synergy, his head kept down dressed in common Zaunite clothing – dark grey leathers and cloth, including his gloves. Only a small gold clasp around the waist, buckled at the right hip was the same as many others at Viktor’s commune wore was the only colour in his outfit. He had the urge to visit Caitlyn since he regained his physical consciousness, much to Viktor’s discomfort and guilt. A fall from grace, Jayce knew in his gut this he had lost his status as a Helical, and was perceived as a Hyploid if he hadn’t been declared deceased.

Eyes flickered as he walked up to the side of the Kiramman residence, pressed against the stone; the large floor to ceiling window of Caitlyn’s study had it’s green curtains drawn, the fire was out and gloom hung overcast. Talis frowned, tapping the bottom corner of the window – a stone wiggled loose and slipped out the lower pane of glass.

Breath held, he squeezed through the narrow gap, pushing the curtain aside and into the study. Swallow breaths through his nose, he carefully replaced the glass and put the curtain back into place. Feet shuffled, he sat on the bench across from the fire, eyes on the spiral staircase. Brow furrowed as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and his focus turned to the pinboard on the under the stairs – a list of names down the far side.

The first seven names at the top the list, including Sevika. With “Council” in red ink scrawled in Caitlyn’s handwriting down the side. Near the bottom “Viktor” in the same red ink and circled with a question mark next to it, along with his own, written over twice or thrice probably as the ink ran low. What did all of this mean?

Strode across the room, a finger traced the other papers tacked to the board. The word enforcers struck out on one page with “WARDENS” written in block capitals and notes on how to ease the dismantling of the caste system. His eyes narrowed at a newspaper article attached to the lower edge of the board – a declaration of the new Council members and new structures of order.

‘Hmm.’ He mused, absent-minded fingers fidgeted with the buckle at his hip.

It had taken Caitlyn a long time to heal. Her left eye was severely injured, causing her to lose her sight completely. She stood there in her room, staring at the mirror, but only one good eye. Her other eye was devoid of the black iris, now just blue and slightly milky all over, and a giant scar across the eye itself. It also extended from her eyebrow, along with her upper eyelid and down her lower eyelid. There was a hint of amusement in some ways that Caitlyn had a match eyebrow scar to offset Vi’s; despite that, she struggled with the fact she had blind spots now.

A breath left her lips as she dropped the eyepatch onto the table, not needing it at home. Her fingers brushed over the gold and white cane she had been using, though she hadn’t needed it for the last month now. Still, her leg would ache from it, taking so long to heal. An external stabilizing fixator fitted around her leg, which aided her ability to walk and no longer needing the cane, and it was the last path for her leg to fully heal. Ambessa had shattered her leg. That it took months to heal and ensure the bones would be in the right place.

Vi had left for dinner, picking up some of their favorite food at the restaurant down the street and picking up some chai teas as well. Caitlyn had offered for the chef to make something, but Vi wanted to treat them instead. Naturally, Caitlyn just laughed at the thought and had given her a kiss goodbye til she got back.

A click from the far room caused Caitlyn’s head to swivel sharply and her eyes narrowed. She parted her mouth slightly, taking in a deep scent. The smell came from the underground, dirt mixed with sweat. Zaunite perhaps? Immediately, Caitlyn grabbed her hextech rifle from the corner of her room and slotted a bullet into the chamber and traveled quietly down the hall. With her hearing affected by the explosions and tinnitus, she narrowed her blue eye in disdain for the blind spot, choosing to focus more on listening.

Her paw pad palm slowly pushed open the door to her study, the door silent as she slipped inside. Her eyes fell upon the long dark brown hair, a man leaning over her board and looking over everything she had been working on. Bare feet silently moved against the ground, thanks to the paw pads on her feet that made her a deadly silent predator. Her blue hair had been up in a ponytail as she lifted her rifle up against her shoulder and ready position. The material he wore looked ratty and old, again something similar she saw in the lower cities of Piltover or the sumps of Zaun. Yet the golden touches did not match the ratty leather and cloth.

Immediately, she presses the muzzle of the rifle up against the back of the man’s head. The snow leopard fur on her shoulders bristled as she hissed in warning. “One false move, and I will blow your head clean off. You should know better than to enter the Prince of Kiramman’s house,” Caitlyn threatened, using a title Piltover had given her (even though she didn’t want it). However, there was merit and power in the title and enough to draw fear in her enemies.

“Slowly turn around and face me. Who the bloody hell are you and why did you break into my house?” Caitlyn demanded as she held her finger against the trigger ready to reach in a second.

[ly-kos]

@arcanacontained said ; -

Viktor frowned, The Herald couldn't yet make sense of the wolf despite using the doctor as a puppet. There was something about Ambessa that intrigued Viktor, her will was one of the strongest he had ever come across in his lifetime and her alone - with or without Reveck's involvement could bring both Piltover and Zaun to their knees.

He was unsure of how the beast's blood what push forward to next stage of evolution, but Merdarda had a fire in her belly that was determined to see the Glorious Evolution through.

The Machine Herald couldn't see into all of Evolved's minds. If he wanted to win this war, he needed Ambessa as an ally. He hummed, he wanted to wolf to witness and experience glory even if Jayce and her daughter stood in their way.

'How far will you take this war, Ambessa, do you want the Glorious Evolution to take out Swain, or is there something more I don't know from your soldiers' minds?' His disembodied voice asked in almost a whisper as his physical body pushed through a metamorphosis.

// ambessa is a woman who's come across many battlefields in her lifetime. the strength that had grown in her chest over all of those fights is one that burns bright.

but what she is as well, in this very moment, is a desperate woman. one who is afraid to lose everything she's gained her entire life.

one who's seen everything crumble in front of her and she's desperately trying to grasp onto anything that is left. whatever there is for her to hold onto, it has proven fruitless. all of the power she'd amassed inside of noxus hadn't been enough, and piltzaun isn't going to rescue her from her own fate either.

she draws a nervous breath. the mention of swain absolutely baffles her and exposes her more than being directly nude would. there is nothing that feels more intrusive than what viktor is doing to the people, but she feels she has had no other choice.

" as far as I need to. " , is her answer, but she rolls her head, tries to put aside her initial confusion and hide just how cornered she'd felt.

" you've missed the mark. " swain is absolutely one of her targets, eventually, but right now, she's got much more pressing threats from the black rose. in some ways, they almost got similar goals. she is not one to throw away a possible ally. " but I commend your attempt at learning my actual motives. "

[multi-muse-transect]

“Just calm down. Breathe. I’ll take care of this.” Jayce gently gripped Caitlyn by the shoulders and seat her down into a leather armchair. He pressed a sterile bandage to Caitlyn's face. Hazel watched her face as she brushed off the "goop" the Hexcore had cocooned Caitlyn in. “I did what was necessary.” He sighed, he looked as though he hadn't slept in days. 'Normal resuscitation methods failed, it was a last resort. I couldn't lose you too.' Talis studied Caitlyn's, now, yellow eyes. The blue gone as the Hexcore adapted to her injuries. 'I'm sorry Sprout, I hope you can forgive me.'

@arcanacontained

She sat there almost unresponsive. Everything felt like a haze to Caitlyn. But one thing she remembered was her conversation with Vi in her bed. The woman remembers it word for word and remembering that face...that maniacal face. Caitlyn bit her lip not listening to a word Jayce. What was that girl's name? Jinx? No. It was Powder.

"Then a real monster showed up..." Her voice has a whispering echo to it as she found herself in that memory. "Powder..." It's full malice and hatred to her. She wanted to give her a second chance but she did this to her. "Powder..." Caitlyn got up staggering a little hissing with so much anger and tears coming from her.

"POWDER!" Caitlyn roared.

[runes-menagerie]

How does it feel to be loved by you?

it feels like home

you're the kind of person that makes people feel safe. you probably couldn't be intimidating if you tried, but that doesn't matter. what matters is your kindness and compassion, your innate way of making people feel happy. you're so good at taking care of everybody else, but don't forget to take care of yourself, too! you deserve the same love you give so freely

(think this is the same result I got last time. nice that she's stayed consistent :P)

Tagged by: @arcanacontained

Tagging: @mxchineherald (Jayce/S2 Vik just to see if it differs from S1), @zaunseye, @hexedevolution, @jynxd (Jinx), @shimmerbeasts (Mel)

[byteing]

'You have pretty eyes.' Jayce blurted out. He felt his face flush as he registered the words that barrelled out of his mouth unprompted. Talis could choose to blame exhaustion of late nights in the lab, or the fact watching paint dry would have been more stimulating than listening to Salo yap for a full ninety minutes about his next party gala and self-importance - an item not on the agenda for the day's meeting, which Cassandra had cut short as they were going over time; or the fact he was tispy from the whisky he had knocked back to drown out the memory of Salo's voice. All excuses. Perhaps the combination of alcohol and exhaustion had removed any mental filter Jayce would use day-to-day (not that he had much of one to begin with) and let his subconscious thoughts slip out unchallenged. Talis hummed softly. He could get lost in those pools of liquid gold for eternity, and he wouldn't complain.

The eyes in question sparked as Viktor laughed—a short heh! like it had been chased out of him rather than voluntary—and he leaned in slightly, peering at each of Jayce’s eyes in turn like he was checking for a concussion. He was smiling. It was an endearing compliment—Jayce had a way with those—but not one he would ever have expected, and a prime opportunity to gently tease his partner for having given it in the first place.

“Do I,” he asked dryly, mouth still curled at the corners. “How much did you drink? Did your brain leak out of your ears in that meeting?”

He leaned back in his chair and coughed, turning his face away to cover it as he did so. That had been happening more and more, lately; whenever something made him laugh, or even a little exerted, his lungs threw a fit about it. At this point it was routine.

“I have been told,” said Viktor after a moment, eyeing Jayce sideways, “that they are almost the same colour as yours.”

It was difficult to tell if it was a compliment or a simple observation—but the way Viktor swung his chair slightly and used his good leg to gently push Jayce’s, in the same way someone else might have knocked their shoulders together companionably, said it was likely more of the former.

[byteing]

"Ever wonder where robots come from?" Jayce teased in a gentle tone, he glanced over some blueprints Viktor was scribbling on. He leant over his partner, sneaking in a brief hug before he tugged at a magnifying glass stand to get a closer look at Viktor's designs.

“Ach—“ Viktor made a disgruntled noise as Jayce’s arm wrapped briefly around him, but he was laughing, too: at his partner’s sense of humour, at the realisation he’d been working non-stop (a robot, indeed), and at Jayce’s seemingly inexhaustible supply of affection. Viktor swatted him away, still smiling. He’d never been around anyone so touchy before. His parents had not been warm or tactile people and neither had anyone else he’d ever been close to, which was a short list to begin with. Viktor himself never initiated touch with anyone nor was he particularly receptive to it, but with Jayce he found he didn’t mind. He hadn’t from day one. The first time Jayce had laid a hand on his shoulder, it hadn’t felt surprising or remarkable. He hadn’t been pleased or shocked to be touched. It had simply felt like they’d been doing it all their lives.

He scooted aside slightly to let Jayce look better, the wheels of his chair scraping unpleasantly against the floor. The laboratory was colder than he’d have liked and even Jayce’s brief embrace left points of heat that he could still feel seeping through his clothes, like the man had absorbed the furnace he so often worked in. Perhaps it was the fire that drove him, he thought, then turned away from poetry and back to the science he knew best.

“This robot may need to take a break,” he admitted, referring to himself. “I’ve been looking at it so long it’s stopped making sense to me.” He leaned back in his chair to stretch his arms out, rotating them at the shoulder to try and loosen the stiff muscles there. His joints always felt like they were one wrong move away from dislocating, and sometimes they were, but today there was no trouble. Small mercies.

He watched Jayce from the corner of his eye, then swivelled to him and poked him gently with a pencil. Coming from Viktor, it may as well have been a hug. “Thoughts?”

[recursiveimpulse]

[  CLOSER  ]  *  my muse comes closer, invading more of your muses personal space.

From Jayce

Viktor is so used to Jayce's closeness these days that he usually doesn't really notice it; they've spent enough days and nights huddled at the same workbench or notebook or chalkboard together now that being shoulder to shoulder is nothing to him now. Jayce is much more--how to put it--effusive in his friendship, and Viktor's become accustomed to that, too.

Which is why it's all the stranger that when Jayce leans down to speak in his ear, his lips just shy of brushing Viktor's skin, Viktor's body reacts like he's suddenly started running a marathon. His heartrate quickens; his breath gets stuck somewhere in his chest. The back of his neck starts to burn as if he's been caught doing something embarrassing, which is baffling--it's just Jayce, for fuck's sake.

Viktor clears his throat. "Hang on, I can't hear you over the..." He leans away to turn off the delicate machinery he's working on, putting space between them, then swivels in his chair to face Jayce directly. His expression betrays some of his nerves, his hands fidgeting the moment they're unoccupied. "What were you saying?"

[recursiveimpulse]

"Why are you trying to be invisible?" Jayce nudged Viktor and held out a mug of coffee for his partner. 'You know I can be a sounding board to vent at if you want.' He sat down on the sofa and patted the seat next to him. The councillor gave a warm smile.

Viktor shrugged dismissively, a gesture that usually meant eh, one of those days. But he took the coffee and eased himself down to sit, propping his crutch against the arm of the sofa. “I like being invisible. Better than being in the spotlight, I think.” He cast a sideways smile at Jayce, warmth in his eyes. “Don’t you have enough people coming to you with their problems, these days?”

[byteing]

'Are you still happy? With me, I mean. With us?' Jayce blurted out, tipsy again.

"Yyy...es? Obviously," Viktor laughed, swaying to the side to gently knock their shoulders together as they walked. He was in a good mood, lightly buzzed from something sweet and honey-coloured that warmed the back of his throat when he drank it. He’d have to remember to ask Jayce what it was: it had been the highlight of the night, for him. He hadn’t joined the party proper, preferring to remain behind the scenes no matter how much Jayce pleaded with him to join him, but he’d crept in towards the end of the night to make an excuse for Jayce to leave and had been treated to a drink for his trouble. It even dulled the pain in his leg enough that he’d protested Jayce’s idea to take a carriage home: he wanted to walk.

Now as they strolled home together, Viktor felt… content. The moon was high above them, a sharp crescent watching over the two. Viktor kept looking at it, and at the stars. Even years after he’d left home and after many, many nights gazing at the stars from his favourite tower, it still felt unreal to be able to see the night sky properly. To look at the stars whenever he wanted and to do it from above, instead of creeping to the river at night and hoping to catch a glimpse of the moon through the smog.

“Jayce,” said Viktor, attempting to affect seriousness. It wasn’t working: he was smiling too much. “I have never been more happy. With you, with this, with us. Everything is fine. It’s good.”

He looped his free arm through Jayce’s. It made walking with the cane a little less steady, but it was worth it to lean on him: Jayce was warm, and he smelled of something smoky that Viktor couldn’t put a name to. He had the inane urge to stop and demand that Jayce bend down to let him sniff him, but even tipsy, he wasn’t that foolish.

“You worry too much,” he told him, conversationally. His head was nearly against Jayce’s shoulder, and might have been if it wouldn’t have set him entirely off-balance. “I am happy. I hope you are happy also.”

[byteing]

[ teach ]  your muse taking control of mine’s hand , arm , hips , etc . to make sure they do something correctly .  

Jayce could see that Viktor's new leg brace and seem to have been overtightened by the Piltover medical staff who were external to the Academy.

'Hey Viktor, would you like some help readjusting your brace?' His voice soft as Viktor subconscious movement placed his toes pointed towards the air. Had they used a standard wrench until everything was so tight that it pinched at the clothing and Jayce assumed his partner's leg? He guided Viktor to the sofa, broad hands hovered over his hips. Gentle, he lifted Viktor's leg under the knee and placed it down on the footlocker as it doubled as a footstool.

It hurt. He'd been told that it wouldn't, that it would just feel 'uncomfortable' until he got used to it - but then, doctors had said that about a great many things before. Perhaps he should have expected it, he thought bitterly, shouldering the door to the laboratory open. The same way he should have expected that his relatively good health wouldn't last forever: that his body would start failing him more than it already had sooner or later, and he would find himself no longer able to make it through the day with the help of a simple cane and a painkiller or two. It wasn't helpful to think like that, he knew. Pessimism and self-pity wouldn't fix him.

Nodding vaguely when Jayce spoke, he allowed himself to be guided with strong, sure hands to the sofa. There was a quiet pit of shame in his belly that shouldn’t have been there. He ignored it in favour of letting Jayce help: there was no one else he could trust to do so.

Watching Jayce examine his leg, Viktor could see now what Jayce had seen: the brace was too tight, pinching at the trouser leg underneath. He hadn’t been overreacting. It wasn’t going to hurt like this forever. Relief swept through him in a sick wave, and he ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, eyes flicking to Jayce’s concentrated expression. He could tell that Jayce was evaluating the brace, figuring out where to loosen it, what he could and couldn’t adjust.

“Thank you,” said Viktor tiredly. He looked at the crutch resting beside him against the sofa arm, then away. He found himself very aware of Jayce and the little space between them; of Jayce’s hands on him; of how quiet the room was. “It’s been… I don’t know. Long day. You’d think they would have fitted it properly. If you weren’t here I would have just… endured it.”

[byteing]

Bleary eyed, Jayce wandered into the lab as he half-hearhed to a swig from his usually concealed hip flask. The whisky wasn't going to be enough for the council to scrub every word of the potential scandal that brewed under the surface. Without even an acknowledgement of his surroundings, Talis made a sluggish beeline for the empty sofa and half flopped onto it, legs still dangled off the end of the bed. He didn't have the energy to move or remove his boots to get onto the couch properly. With a groan, he faceplanted the duvet. He felt sleep deprived but unable to catch up wink. Jayce let out a grumble as the open flask slipped out of his hand and onto the floor. He didn't move from his current position.

Viktor’s head turned slightly on instinct when he heard the lab door open, but there was no need to check who it was. He knew from the footsteps; the breathing; the sigh Jayce made after taking a swig. The lack of a greeting meant that either something had gone wrong or that Jayce was simply too exhausted to speak yet. Viktor understood. He didn’t push it.

Listening to the sounds of Jayce flopping onto the couch, he turned from his notes just as the flask dropped to the floor. It rolled slightly, amber liquid dripping from it.

“Jayce that’s going to—it’s spilling,” he frowned, but without any real urgency. They’d had worse spills. He crossed the room, kneeling down on his good leg to pick the flask up. He didn’t need to sniff its contents to know what they were: the distinctive smell of whiskey rose up from the hardwood, and he understood that it must have been one of those meetings. Not for the first time, he was glad not to have attended.

Still half-kneeling, he gripped his cane to push himself back up and looked down at Jayce with fond pity. He screwed the flask closed and set it aside, just out of Jayce’s reach, then perched himself on the end of the bed just by Jayce’s legs. He propped his cane up, glad to have his hands free. The spillage could wait.

“Difficult day?” A gentle tap to Jayce’s knee to warn him, then he lifted the leg into his lap—the weight mostly distributed over his good knee—and began to gently pry off Jayce’s boot. It felt second nature. A small repayment for the countless times Jayce had found him in that same position and put a blanket over him, or set a mug of something warm on the side table. “I see we’ve resorted to self-medication…”