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Jayce Talis has always been the go-to man, always—always preferring people come for his help. It’s who he was by nature; the very heart of his soul was to help others, even if it meant it wore on him. Especially if it meant so.
He guesses that's why he was so shocked when Viktor, brilliance in the form of a human, came and helped him.
Standing on the ledge he could see the buzz of the undercity in the distance; fires sprouting at factores with smoke drifting above it. Enforcers laughing drunkenly in the pub near the west side. A few kids laughing not even a block away.
And god—despite being in the city of innovation, progress, education, it was isolating. The son of a lower house that came to piltover with a fire a-blazing his soul and the cold biting at his flesh with its sharp teeth, mystified by the actions of a magician. And where had that wonder taken him?
To his life’s work being blown up. To his mother calling him mentally unfit in front of the counsel. To being banished to do the one thing he knew—thought—he reminded himself bitterly, that could have saved countless lives. The very thing that saved him and his mother, all those years ago.
No one would be there when you die, you fall, hit the ground, and some enforcers will come and scrape up what's left of you in the morning.
A small chuckle escaped his lips as he felt tears prickling at his eyes. His mother used to hate when he left a mess. Either trailing mud into their old house after going on one of his ‘adventures’, which was a bullshit cover up for him running over to the shed and trying to build whatever his mind created, or coming in and smearing grease everywhere from being in the forge with his father.
He missed him. He missed the days when it was that simple—when he could help his father build hammers as tall as he, when he hadn’t been exposed to the arcane, when his mind hadn’t been tainted with something that others thought too dangerous to control.
He’d made his letter. It would go out to the few people that thought of him as good before all of this. A final apology.
He frowned and tipped closer to the edge, closing his eyes and letting out a rough exhale.
Half of him wanted to run back to the forge. Fire it up and start hammering on a cheap project. Never think about the arcane—never let his mind go astray, never put any others in danger ever again.
And the thought of that, was likely what was keeping him on the edge. A life without his theories—without hextech, was not one that he wanted to live.
Tipping forward he resigns himself to becoming nothing more than another nuisance to the enforcers. Hopefully Cait wouldn’t see it. Hopefully they’d block off the section for a little while.
His body almost goes over, getting stopped at the last moment by someone speaking up.
"Am I interrupting?" the man says, and he can see the way he leans on the cane that's propped up under his right hand, the book he's holding in his hands, the curl of his accent on his tongue. It was so human. So mesmerizing. Enough that it takes Jayce more than a moment for his mind to catch up.
Wait, he has a book?
"The hells your problem? What's that? Another list with my name on it?" He sputters out, his voice wavering. It was harsher than he meant. He didn’t want the other man to leave.
"Actually yes, but only because you sign your notes.", the man said, waving the book in the air. "Every page I might add. Eh, a little egotistical, don't you think?" He hummed, the man’s hazel eyes flickering up to Jayce.
Jayce half heard what he said, his feet moving him away from the edge. He didn’t trust himself near it right now. He was less likely to do it in the presence of a man like the other, though. He was a coward in that way.
He wiped a hand over his face, drying tears he didn't even know existed. If his hands were shaking, the other man gave him the grace of not acknowledging it.
"Is that why you came? To insult me?" Jayce said, turning away from him.
"No, no. I was...I was intrigued by what you said at the trial." the man obviously put thought into his words, but none were condescending. Not at all like he was speaking to a man barely moments before a breath away from jumping off a building.
Jayce could hear the clicking on the guys came as he walked closer, a slow and steady tick, tick, tick.
The noise calmed something in him. Made the ringing go away for a few, sweet moments.
"That makes you the only one" he mumbled.
"Yes, well I wanted to talk about your work. This...Hextech theory of yours-"
"It’s not a theory" Jayce says, putting his arms up dramatically and turning around to the man, "I saw with my own eyes what magic can do, the lives it could save. You’ve no idea how beautiful it is" he continues, not even trying to hide the exhaustion in his voice.
"And now it's gone. No one believed in me.". No one did. Not even his own mother. His eyes flickered to the edge before back down with a shaky exhale.
"Nobody's ever believed in me" the man started, and again he could hear the cane clinking against the ground. He was now standing next to Jayce, looking over the city.
"A poor cripple from the undercity" he continues, "I was an outsider the moment I stepped foot in Piltover. I didn't have the benefits of a patron, or a name. I simply believed in myself."
"Which is why I'm here because I think you're on to something. I want to help you complete your research." The man all but hummed, the accent falling smoothly from his lips.
Jayce looks over at him with wide eyes, before settling into disappointment.
"No one thinks it can be done" He tried weakly, looking over at the other man and pausing.
"When you're going to change the world; don't ask for permission" he said. By the look the other man was giving him, he believed he could do it. God—he would believe anything, if he said.
The man holds out his hand, and only then does Jayce realize he’d had the runestone bracelet all along.
He puts his hand out and hesitates, briefly looking back over the ledge, the city almost calling to him, before turning back to the man.
Gaining enough courage, he accepted, taking the cuff into his hand and looking up at the other.
"I don't even know your name" he said, his voice coming out weaker than he’d ever like to admit.
"It's Viktor" The man-Viktor says.
That night was the first, and only time Jayce accepted someone's help. And he's so glad he did.