Chapter Text
Hyrcanos whines, low in his throat, but he can’t find a way around this. And neither can Jayce.
Jayce’s breath comes in soft, ragged pants as she stares down at the streets below, empty and quiet now the day is over. “We…we can do this.”
Hyr takes a few steps forward, easing the faint strain on their bond, and peers over the edge, too. He’s careful to keep his claws just this side of the brink, tail low between his legs. “Jayce—”
“We can do this,” she repeats, and she glances at him. He meets her gaze, and her resolve wavers. “...right?”
Hyr takes a step back from the open air of Piltover’s night. “We can do this, too,” he tries, tossing his head back towards the disaster they once called home. “It’s…it’ll be difficult, of course, but so is creating magic—”
“Was creating magic. There’s no ‘is’ anymore.” Jayce’s voice hardens, and she turns back to the hole ripped through the wall by an explosion from a group of thieving trenchers earlier that week. “The Council saw to that.”
Hyr is quiet, for a moment, and when he speaks, his voice is soft. “Do you think it hurts?”
Jayce does not need to ask her companion what he means. “I don’t know,” she admits.
Hyr doesn’t move closer, staying just back from the ledge. He’s always been the more cautious of the two, of Jayce and Hyr, because there has never been one without the other.
Jayce wonders if she will have to go without him, for a moment, if he goes first. She thinks that might hurt the most, out of any part of it.
“I’m sorry, Hyr,” she says. He whines, pressing his head against her thigh. She scratches just behind his right ear, and he exhales.
“I know.”
Jayce closes her eyes, and she steps forward.
“Am I interrupting?”
Hyr barks, the sound quiet but sharp, and stabilizes Jayce with a mouthful of her trousers. Jayce still windmills for a moment, eventually regaining her balance as she stumbles around to see—
It’s the woman from earlier. The one who had informed her that she was considered…dangerous.
Jayce frowns, and tries to avoid thinking about the debris she’d heard fall from the ledge as Hyr had pulled her back, how unstable it must be. Beside her, Hyr stiffens, pale gaze fixed on the woman and the large lizard standing at her side.
“The hell’s your problem?!” Jayce snaps, because the pair of them, they know frustration, can use that better towards strangers and those who’ve hurt them than they can use vulnerability or admittance of defeat. For all she knows, this woman would just be next in line to push her off the edge, anyway!
…that’s when she realizes that, maybe, she isn’t as ready to die as she’d thought. Or hoped.
She tucks that thought away for further examination in the dark of night with Hyr curled up beside her on the small bed in her childhood room.
The woman takes a step closer, her lizard following, and Jayce’s gaze flicks to the journal clutched under an arm. She scoffs, brash and loud, puffing up the way Hyr always had when they were children and he’d been a bird, or one of those small fluffy dogs, trying to intimidate others, to show that he and Jayce were to be taken seriously. “What’s that, then? Just another list with our names on it?”
The woman hums, but Jayce nearly stumbles back off the ledge in surprise when it’s her dæmon that speaks, instead. “Yes, but only because the pair of you sign everything.” The lizard’s voice is softer than she’d expected but still rasps slightly, sharing the slight lilt of her human’s.
“Including your notes. Every page, I might add,” the woman continues, and there’s just enough light coming in from the opening to catch her raised eyebrow.
“A little egotistical, yes?” The dæmon’s head tilts, just slightly, and Jayce is reminded of the same way Hyr’s head tilts when contemplating something neither of them understand.
Jayce is still struck dumb by the fact the woman’s dæmon is addressing them directly—and both of them, not just Hyr. Especially considering the fact the woman and Jayce have only spoken once before now, and didn’t exactly end on friendly terms. Jayce would hardly consider them to be friendly enough that their dæmons would address each other’s humans.
“Are you here just to insult us?” Jayce says, finally getting her bearings back.
The woman looks…surprised? She takes another step closer, her cane clanking faintly against the ruined floor. “Eh, no? We were…” She seems to flounder for the word, gesturing with her free hand as the lizard takes a step forward beside her.
“Intrigued, by you.”
Color flushes the woman’s face and she hastily adds, “By what you said at the trial, yes.”
Jayce laughs, the sound hollow, and Hyr’s tail lowers. “I think you’d be the only ones, then.”
“Regardless.” The woman takes a step closer. “We wanted to talk about your…Hextech theory. We read through your notes, and—”
She laughs again, running a hand through her hair and tugging slightly at the ends. She finds herself frustrated all over again with the unevenness of the cut, but to be fair, she can’t expect much. Not from doing it with dull dorm scissors, tears finally boiling over after the trial, flowing too much and too fast to see more than the general length of her crooked cuts. “If you read through them, then you’d know it’s more than a theory. I’ve seen it, we’ve experienced it, the power magic has, how many lives it could save. It’s…it’s beautiful, in ways you’d never believe.
“Though that’s all gone now.” Her smile twists, turning sour at the root, and even Hyr whines quietly. “No one believed in any of it.” Not even my mother.
“You think you need someone else’s belief to do anything?” It’s the lizard who speaks up this time, taking several steps forward until most of her body—minus the long tail lashing several feet behind her—is illuminated, to where Jayce can tell the lighter patches across her scales are a mix of lines and spots. “If we’d waited for that, we would not be here. We were outsiders since we stepped foot in Piltover.”
“A poor cripple from the Undercity, and her overgrown venomous reptile,” her human says, stepping up beside her with the quiet clank of her cane. She remains just in the edge of the shadow, her face too obscured for Jayce to make out more than the general set of her brows and her overall expression. “We did not have luxuries like a patron, or a name.”
“We clawed our own way out,” the dæmon finishes, her tail lashing finally stilling. She’s looking at her with an expression Jayce can’t parse, and she feels a bit off-kilter, with the dæmon looking at her instead of at Hyr.
“So, what, you’re here for…a stake in this? You want a share, or something? If you were at the trial then you’d know there’s no way any of it’ll work.”
The lizard laughs, the sound rasping, but not uncomfortably so.
“When you are going to change the world, don’t ask for permission,” the woman says, and Jayce recognizes the flint in her eye, then.
They’re made out of the same stuff, her and Jayce, the burning desire to prove yourself worthy of taking up space.
Jayce takes in a full breath for what might be the first time today.
“...I don’t even know your names,” she says at last, soft.
The woman closes the distance between them, face finally out of shadow, and Jayce finds herself drawn to the mole above her lip, watches it, watches her lips, as she speaks.
“It’s Viktoria,” she says. She gestures to her dæmon.
“Dohlížce,” the lizard says, stepping up beside Viktoria. “And we never got your name,” she adds, looking at Hyr.
“This is Hyrcanos,” Jayce says, absently stroking his ear. He shifts his weight towards Jayce, shoulder to knee, and she feels the way he’s more relaxed compared to a few minutes ago.
Neither Jayce nor Hyr can shake the feeling that something will shift from here.
For once, though, Jayce thinks she might be okay with that.
Of course, Councilor Medarda and her spotted-striped wildcat dæmon find them with impeccable timing.
“Hm. Willing to risk exile for your endeavor. That’s quite the conviction.”
Viktoria jumps. The keys rattle with her, nearly falling from her grasp. Jayce hears Dohlížce’s tail lash across the floor, betraying their anxiety, even as she’s already scratching at her neck and stepping in front of the pair.
“Councilor! What a, uh, wonderful surprise, seeing you here. I was actually just thinking we should schedule—“
At the same time, Viktoria’s frowning at the keys and then at the door, muttering to herself just loudly enough for Medarda to hear. “Wait a minute, Jaycelyn, I must have gotten confused.” Viktoria’s awkward chuckle weaves itself between Jayce’s words, even as both she and Hyr turn in surprise at the use of her full name. “This is, ah, not my bedroom, after all.”
Heat floods Jayce’s face, though Viktoria keeps her gaze fixed solely on the keys, her glare strong enough Jayce is half-convinced she could simply will them to open the door to somewhere less incriminating.
“I am so sorry, I do not know how I could have gotten turned around…”
Viktoria trails off at Medarda’s dissatisfied hum. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but Jayce beats her to the punch.
“Please, Councilor, we can prove it works, that it’s sound. We took another look at the equations—“
“Hmm. You couldn’t do so earlier today, so why would we expect tonight to be any different?”
Her voice brooks no room for argument, leaving even Jayce floundering, and then—
“We figured out how to stabilize it, now.”
Dohlížce’s claws click quietly along the polished granite of the Academy floors as she steps forward, stopping just ahead of Viktoria. It takes the councilor a moment to look down and notice her, and even her dæmon’s ears swivel forward in surprise.
Jayce watches as the two of them do the math, glancing between her and Hyr and then at Viktoria. “You’re the dæmon of the professor’s assistant,” Medarda breathes, surprise flickering in her voice. Her wildcat’s tail twists at the end, but they do not add anything to her statement.
Viktoria seems to melt into herself, slightly, while her dæmon takes a step forward, lifting her head higher. “Doe,” she warns, voice quiet.
“They’re not anyone’s assistants. They’re our new partners.”
Jayce blinks. She finds herself a little shocked to see Hyr taking a step forward, his tail raised stiffly. He’s got a good several inches on the councilor’s dæmon, and he’s making it very clear.
Medarda’s lip twitches as her gaze falls to him. “Well now. I will admit, I was not expecting to speak with the dæmons of Piltover’s most recent failed prodigy or Heimerdinger’s assistant tonight.” She returns her gaze to Jayce and Viktoria, glancing between them for a moment before tilting her head. “You do all know that, even if you do somehow manage to prove this theory of yours, the Council will destroy it before it sprouts further?”
“Heimerdinger will recognize the potential.” Jayce finds herself still half-pleading, and even Hyr shoots her an unreadable glance over his shoulder as she falls quiet again.
“Oh, believe me, he already does.” Medarda scoffs lightly, though it doesn’t seem to be disparaging. Jayce would almost take that over the pity she seems to imply with it, though. “It scares all of them. Though…what about you? I did not think you the type to be swayed by lofty dreams so easily.”
Viktoria’s voice is firm, much stronger than it was a few minutes ago, when she answers. “I recognize that any worthwhile venture requires a degree of risk.”
Viktoria’s gaze remains steady on Medarda, but Dohlížce eyes her partner’s leg for a moment. A silent moment of confirmation from Hyr confirms to Jayce that he caught the look, too.
The ears of both Hyr and Medarda’s dæmon prick in unison, both turning to look towards the corner of the hall.
Whistling. Footsteps.
They’re running out of time.
Jayce clears her throat and steps forward again. “Councilor, I promise you that this technology is real. And no matter what happens tonight, it will change the world. As the City of Progress, shouldn’t we be the ones to herald that charge? And I know it sounds impossible, but since when has innovation cared about limits? Please—“
“—we only need a chance,” Hyr finishes.
Medarda and her dæmon alike look between the four of them, considering.
The whistling grows louder, and Hyr’s hackles start to rise.
“Fine. You have one night, ladies. Impress me—or I’d suggest you pack your bags.”
Before she’s even finished with the ultimatum, Viktoria and Dohlížce are both turning back to the door, finally fitting the right key into the lock.
Jayce and Hyr scramble into the room, barely sparing a glance as Medarda and her wildcat whirl to interrupt the patroller. She hears a voice call a greeting just as they slam it shut behind them, slumping back against it.
“Close,” Hyr says mildly, nosing at Jayce’s hand.
“Yeah, too close.” She scratches his ear idly, then looks up. Viktoria’s staring at her, mouth twitching up at the corner. “What?”
“You are not fond of Jaycelyn, are you?”
Jayce shudders overdramatically, pushing off from the door and moving to join her at the table. “Ah, no. Jayce is much better.”
“Jayce,” Viktoria says, pursing her lips. “Hm, good. I much prefer the sound of that one. Nicknames always help to make one a bit less, eh, egotistical, I think.”
Jayce isn’t sure why, exactly, that seems to coincide with the room suddenly feeling far too hot and stifling, but the knowing glance Hyr shoots her as he pads over to sniff at the corner of the table with their lab equipment is enough to write it off. She’ll ask him about it later.
They begin setting up the equipment in silence, Dohlížce stabilizing Viktoria when she picks up a stack of boxes and tools that even Jayce would be hard-pressed to carry herself, with the way they sway precariously. Hyr stands on his hind legs, grasping the notebook Jayce uses for observations in his mouth before following Viktoria to a table with more space. Jayce follows, arms full of instruments that she sets down with about none of the delicacy they require.
The silence remains as they begin setting everything up, and Jayce finds herself pleasantly surprised at the realization that Viktoria seems to know what she needs without a word. It’s like working with Hyr, almost, except a partner this in-tune with her having opposable thumbs is…very nice.
Her thoughts slip off to the events just outside the lab, as they often do when doing routine setup. She and Hyr could do this in their sleep, now, and with Viktoria and Dohlížce helping, it goes twice as smoothly.
Dohlížce. Jayce had heard Viktoria call her Doe, hadn’t she? Which isn’t…surprising, really; she herself is hardly unique in calling Hyrcanos by a shorter name. Many people’s dæmons have nicknames, at least as far as she’s aware. She hasn’t asked anyone about it in years, though, not after learning very quickly that apparently, asking other children potentially invasive questions about their dæmons was a habit that should have fallen away with the shifting of forms. And names fell under that, somehow. The two of them still don’t quite understand why, but…that’s how many parts of Piltovan society—adult society as a whole, more likely—are, to them. Enigmas to remain forever sealed.
Hyr brushes against her leg as he moves around her to bring a book to Viktoria. Jayce finds herself lost in the woman again—her hair, lighter than Jayce’s own, the way it wisps at the edges of her face as if reaching, no matter how many times she tucks it back behind her ears; the mole below her right eye that she scratches at when reading over Jayce’s notes to double check parameters; even the way when Dohlížce moves to support her, the two of them fall seamlessly into position, as if always joined at the hip rather than just the soul.
“You’re staring,” Hyr murmurs, returning to Jayce’s side. She stiffens slightly, heat rising again in her face as she realizes the truth of it.
It strikes Jayce with all the grace of a loose stair that Viktoria is the first to ask Hyr's name in years. No one has asked since their Settling, other than the occasional official form for the Academy’s use, or all the paperwork they’d had to fill out after the explosion. And she’d asked if Jayce preferred that name, too, rather than the one most professors defaulted to unless she requested otherwise.
“And do you have one?” Jayce asks.
The quiet clink of parts coming from beside her stops. “Have what?”
“A nickname,” Jayce says, realizing her thoughts have—once again—moved far faster than her mouth. “Or, uh, something else you prefer to be called? I’m just asking because, well, I mean, you asked me, so it seems only fair, and besides, Viktoria’s a bit long—not that that’s a bad thing! I just mean, like, a lot of people with longer names have a nickname, but if you don’t that’s fine of course—“
Viktoria laughs, light and easy, and it occurs to Jayce that she’d kill to hear that laugh again. “You are fine, Jayce. I…do not have anything that I prefer to go by; Viktoria works. Though if you come up with a nickname, I would be quite interested to hear it.”
Jayce nods eagerly, Hyr’s tail wagging. “Yeah, yeah, I– I can do that. Come up with a nickname, I mean. If that’s what you want.”
Viktoria smiles at her, her whole face wrinkling slightly with the gesture, and Jayce thinks about drowning. “That would be wonderful, Jayce. Though for now, let us focus on the work, yes?”
Flushing again, Jayce nods. “Uh, yeah, yes, of course.”
Even later, when she and Viktoria are spinning, laughing, weightless and untethered amidst the azure light created by their dream, Jayce still can’t tear her thoughts from Viktoria, from the way her hair floats around her face, haloing her against the constellationed ceiling of the lab, from the way she giggles, “It worked, Jayce!” and the way her voice curls briefly around her name before letting it go.
(She ignores Hyr’s slight hesitation, at the next time they go to work with the crystals, brushing aside the way he swears to her that they just felt a bit Off when stabilized. She does not know how to feel, snapping at Hyr for the first time since their teenhood, telling him to just stop worrying about what can’t be anything worse than their half-fried kitchen table machinations as children, telling him to not ruin this good thing for her, too, like he has so much else.)
(She makes up with him after only a few minutes, of course, and lays back on her pillow with his body stretched out alongside hers, silver head on her ribcage as she strokes the velvet of his ear.)
(He does not bar her from pursuing this Hextech dream of theirs, of course, he never would.)
(But he does remain…hesitant.)
(This is the first brick to become unmoored in their belief.)