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Days elapsed into weeks after the Symphony Ball, in which Viktor could not recall a time in his life spent without Anya. He was required to chaperone her to presentations and proposals given by department heads from the physics and astronomy college, where she listened with great attention and happiness to hear of the progress being made in the concept of light travel. After a myriad of lectures, she confided in Viktor that she had a contact at the energy research facility where she used to work, who had access to a hadron collider.
“Perhaps I can ask her for an appointment with the laboratory where it is located,” she suggested, excitedly. She walked with her companion among the halls of the Academy, from the physics college to the engineering department, where Viktor was set to lead the next lecture of Engineering 101. “That way, maybe you and your partner might be able to find some answers about the crystal, and what it can do.”
Viktor nodded and put the back of his hand, occupied with his daily notebook, to his mouth as he yawned.
“Certainly, I know the idea of visiting a hadron collider cannot be boring you,” she eyed him. “How much sleep did you get last night?” she asked and leaned to see his face.
He tried to shy away from her prying judgment, but he conceded to her concern. “I got enough.”
“Your body disagrees.”
“My body disagrees with everything,” he miffed. They turned into the lecture hall, where he held the door open for her. The classroom was empty, and it allowed them to prepare for the first wave of students for the day. He settled himself at his desk, and set his notebook down, opening its pages to the lesson plan of the day.
Anya pulled down the chalkboards and erased the previous day’s scrawlings. “You do too much, Viktor. You cannot subsist on caffeine and curiosity alone.”
“It has worked so far,” he glanced at her.
She huffed and returned his look as she wandered to the edge of his desk, where a pile of papers sat, waiting to be distributed. “Have you thought about my offer?” She picked them up, and waited to see if he would reply.
His sight broke from his notebook, but he did not look her in the eye; he did not have the wherewithal. Her offer had been exceedingly generous, and while its promise had crossed his mind repeatedly in the weeks they spent together, he gave it neither credence, nor consideration. Anya was the cause of so much gratitude in his life already, that should she be his benefactress, he would be indebted to her forever.
“My offer will always stand, Viktor. It will not expire,” she said, without a reply from him.
She passed out each paper to each desk within the lecture hall, and when she was finished, took her place at the side of his desk, waiting for the students to arrive. She found great joy in participating in the class as an aid – from distributing papers, to quietly answering students’ questions, and lulling a student’s infant, who lain restless in her mother’s arms during afternoon lectures. Being present there allowed her to mull over aspects of engineering she did not normally have the opportunity to think about. Though she, also, was adept in the mechanics of engineering, her work in the energy research lab had been primarily dedicated to the theoretical applications of light and radiation. She vigorously applied herself to the study of quantum energy, and how to pass an object of light from one point in time to another. Her desire was always to see the stars and mingle among them – one day, she promised herself, perhaps two hundred years thence, she would be able to see them for herself. But her calculations and her sciences had all been theoretical. Viktor was the machinist, even as a child – able to create a seemingly living thing from nothing at all: mechanized trinkets and autonomous beings that relieved his responsibilities of chores. Together, their knowledge was enviable and dynamic.
Two classes passed the day, and by the third, Viktor finished his second cup of coffee. He disliked its bitter taste, though Anya always had it sweetened perfectly to his liking. As the students filed in and began their quiz, he realized he did not know how Anya ordered his coffee, only that she knew to appeal it to his palate. The intimacy of his interests being perceived by another was foreign to him, though not unwelcome.
The class completed their quiz quietly and without incident, and Viktor leaned forward onto his desk to relieve pressure from his spine. He remained there for the entirety of the test, and by the time every student was finished, Viktor was still languid on his table. Anya peered over his shoulder, and saw his eyes closed, and his breath heavy and idle. He was asleep. She smiled to herself and ventured to wake him, but he did not rouse with her attempts.
Anya stood from grading papers, and gently took his notebook from under his elbow, where she read through the lesson plan he had written out: it was half in their native language, and half in the common tongue. The class was simple, and there were no topics of which she was unfamiliar, thus she proceeded to teach the final class of the day.
She enjoyed it thoroughly, and answered every question with grace and knowledge. She was a patient teacher, who expounded when necessary, and who had no qualms in walking among her students when they needed individual assistance. When her lecture was almost complete, the infant who was regularly toted to classes with her mother, began to fuss and whimper; Anya did not hesitate in continuing her offer to soothe the child – she had a pointer in one hand, and the infant in the other as she finished the lecture.
Viktor woke to the sound of students bustling and chairs scraping against the flooring. He was mildly disoriented, and could not perceive the time. When he opened his eyes, he saw his class filing to exit, and Anya at the head of the room smiling and playing with the child in her arms. Its mother was approaching her from the rear of the class, but Anya did not rush her or show her any impatience or malice. Instead, she took the child’s hands as they reached for the shimmering fabric of her veil, and kissed them. Viktor felt as if he was woken to another dream.
As the child was returned to its mother, Anya returned to Viktor’s side with a soft smile. She traced a finger along the edge of his face and placed her hand on his upper arm. “You cannot outrun your mortal needs forever,” she said.
He let a long sigh, and rolled his brow along his arm. “I can’t sleep.” He forced himself to sit upright and stand – he leaned heavily on his cane as he forced his exhausted legs to move against their will.
Anya began to pack their belongings and reset the classroom. “What troubles you?”
By the time she finished, he made it to the exit, where he held open the door for her. He leaned against its frame as he thought on how to answer her. “The night Jayce and I unlocked the crystal’s potential – the feeling of being weightless – it was…incredible.” He looked at her as she came to his side, still trying to find the words to describe it. “I felt…whole, again. A feeling I have not had since my earliest memories. Something I long to recreate.” They began to walk the halls of the Academy, towards his apartment near the laboratory. “My every waking moment is spent trying to decipher it, trying to apply it in a way where others can feel its benefit – where I can feel its benefit, again. But my energy is limited, and there are only so many hours in a day, until my body can no longer function.”
Anya remained quiet for a while, until they approached his apartment door, and she asked again: “Why will you not accept my offer of patronage?” Frustration laced her voice, that her friend would not accept a gift she readily gave: “Is it pride?”
He furrowed, offended, and unlocked his door. “No, it is not pride.”
“What is it, then?”
“It is unfair,” he insisted.
“If my offer is not enough, I can amend it –”
“It is unfair that I have nothing to give you in return,” he said.
“I do not want you to repay me. I want only your wellbeing.”
“No, Anya,” he contended. “You are stubborn.”
She drew back, insulted, but ventured to assume his ire was due to his lack of sleep. “I am not the only one who is obstinate.” Satisfied that her friend was safely returned to his home, she quitted him and the Academy.
Viktor sighed and leaned his head on the doorframe of his apartment. He had a preternatural fear of power imbalances and debts he could not repay. He saw them paid for in blood and slavery as a child in Zaun, and he vowed never to be placed in a position that could indenture him to the will of another.
As he settled himself into his apartment – removing his shoes and his tie as he reclined on the sofa, with a hand over his eyes – he felt foolish for projecting his fear onto Anya. She, of all others in his life, knew the primal fear of subjugation, and he felt ashamed that he would – even subconsciously – presume her of such a sin. The offer of her patronage was a reflection of herself: pure and kind-hearted, with little expectation of return; he called to mind the afternoons as children, where they would sit in silence, and she never attempted to pry from him a word or an answer. She was not stubborn for the sake of stubbornness itself, but she was eager in her generosity, a trait which was foreign to him.
He reached for a drawer in the side table, and made from it a discreet pillbox; he took from it two pills and swallowed them dry. As his eyes drifted closed, he pondered the wording of the apology he owed her, which he would present to her the next day.
Viktor arrived at the lab in the late morning – he fell asleep on the couch, and remained there for the duration of the night; his back was sore, and his neck was stiff, it took him a half hour more than usual to ready himself for the day. When he arrived, he heard Jayce’s voice and laughter, and Viktor opened his notebook, searching for a scheduled meeting or a projected visitor; he found none in his calendar.
Instead, as he entered the lab, he saw Anya standing over the workbench, she listened as Jayce described his vision for HexTech to her. She had her own notebook on the bench, with notations and suggestions written in their native language, which Jayce could not read.
“Viktor!” Jayce called to him. “Man of the hour. I was just telling our visitor about how you used mechanical resonance to stabilize the crystal.” While his words were true, he hoped their emphasis made a positive and lasting impression on Miss Anya.
Viktor eyed Anya and greeted her with a light bow of his head. She returned the gesture, but said nothing. “It was simple, really,” he cleared his throat, averting his gaze from her. “Crystals operate vibrationally – all it needed was some tuning.”
“And is it tuned now?” Anya raised a brow, referring to his attitude, rather than the crystal.
He nodded once, and pursed his lips, still shying himself from her regard. “Yes. It is…tuned.” Viktor gathered his decorum and straightened his back with a wince as he motioned from her to his partner. “Jayce, this is Miss Anya. She is a donor to the Academy; she graduated here from the Physics and Astronomy Department.”
“She’s more than that – she told me she’s the contact you’ve been sharing our notes with.”
Viktor looked at her, pleased that she felt safe enough to divulge part of her involvement. “Yes, Miss Anya and I have worked together before.”
She took her notebook and began to approach Viktor. “We are friends.”
Viktor knew she meant to educate Jayce on the nature of their relationship, but he also knew it was a reminder for him. He spent years friendless and alone, that he knew the reminder of its meaning was necessary. “Indeed.”
“May I speak with you, Viktor?” she asked.
“Please,” he agreed and motioned for the hallway outside the lab.
Jayce watched the pair exit the lab and disappear into the shadows; he could hear vague words in another tongue, hushed and reticent, and he wondered how they knew each other. Viktor never spoke of a romantic interest – he rarely divulged personal details about himself at all. But he recognized in Viktor a look of indelible love – great admiration and awe: he looked on her as if she were carved of marble, sacred and haunted, possessed with the spirit of some greater thing than he.
“I wanted to apologise for yesterday afternoon,” Anya said.
Viktor shook his head, adamantly. “No – it is I who should apologise.”
“I did not mean to pressure you, or make you feel uncomfortable,” she continued.
He sighed and put his head in his hand. “If I felt any discomfort, it was of my own making – not yours,” he paused and shook his head again. She looked on him with worried eyes, and saw what lay beneath him. It was futile to lie to her, or obscure any truth about himself. “I want to accept your offer. But nothing I do will ever be enough to repay you.”
“I know this worry weighs heavily on your heart,” she said and took his hands. “I have thought of a solution: I will be not only your patron, but your investor. That way, anything I have given to you, will be inherently paid off by the work you produce. You will never have to worry about a debt unfulfilled.”
His shoulders dropped as his breath fled from him, and a weight was relieved from his soul.
“Will you accept my offer, with these conditions?”
He nodded, still breathless, and his hands held onto hers with gratitude. “I do.”
“I hate to see you so tired…” she passed one hand along the darkness gathered beneath his eyes, “...my dear Viktor.”
“Forgive me for how I acted yesterday,” he said and kissed her hand. “My mind has been tired, and I have not felt myself.”
“Hopefully now you can rest – unworried about provision. Rest – though I know you despise it –, and dedicate yourself to the science you love. Leave the assistant work behind. You work for no one, but yourself."
"And Jayce."
Anya looked towards the lab, where the broad outline of his newfound friend could be seen in the distance. She hummed, unconvinced. “He is young. But he speaks with such conviction.”
“You doubt him?”
“I do not doubt his intentions for the good of all sentient beings, but he is sure of himself, and of his goals. Such conviction can make someone blind. It can cultivate hubris.” She looked at Viktor again, and pressed her fingers into his. “Follow your endeavours wherever they might take you – but do not forget yourself, my dear Viktor. Stay, always, my wonderful friend.”
He looked on her with curiosity, but heeded her nonetheless; his thumbs caressed the tops of her hands, and he nodded carefully in agreement. Her kind were blessed with the gifts of magic and foresight, and he wondered if there was some figment of the future to which she had been privy; but he hesitated to ask, and found himself afraid of her answer.