flick back to Viktor. He wants to ask a thousand questions. Wants to demand answers. But instead, he just meets that endearing gaze and exhales.

"...You knew I was coming." It’s not a question.

within. Past the moment where he could still turn back.

The warmth inside is subtle but welcome. Jayce finally lets his energy settle—no longer reaching, no longer searching.

For now, at least, he has found what he was looking for.

He briefly glances around to take it all in before his eyes —

to himself than anything. His voice is solid, but there’s something tight in his chest, something fragile and aching.

He steps past the threshold, past the scatter of clover and moss creeping through the stone, past the hazy golden glow spilling from —

ghost of amusement shaping his mouth, like he already knows something Jayce doesn’t—and he most likely does.

Jayce lets out something between a huff and a breath of laughter, shaking his head as he finally moves forward. “You always did have a way of making a man feel welcome,” he murmurs, more —

wrapped around him like a second skin. His energy doesn’t just pulse—it [ breathes ], intertwined so seamlessly into the world around him that it’s almost impossible to tell where he ends and where it begins.

And yet, when he speaks, it’s so effortlessly Viktor. The dry, easy irreverence. The —

of his face, the quiet weight of his presence, the way his golden gaze sweeps over Jayce with measured curiosity.

Jayce’s fingers curl slightly at his sides, resisting the urge to reach, to grasp at familiarity where there is none. Because this one [ feels ] different, even beyond the arcane depth—

Jayce exhales, tension bleeding from his shoulders in slow degrees as Viktor steps into view. The door swings open, casting a wash of warm, filtered light against the cool haze of the outside air. And there he is.

Even with the cowl draped over his head, there’s no mistaking him. The sharp lines —

( Q _ Q )

an attempt at soothing. “But I wasn’t seeking a fight. I don’t 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 to fight.”

His hands stay raised, non-threatening, and his power remains tucked away. “Please, Viktor—come inside. Let's talk. I'm not your enemy.”

so openly afraid. The sight of it unsettles Jayce.

Carefully, oh so carefully, he lets a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth, more reassuring than anything. “If you’re as powerful as you say, I’d be an idiot to try anything, wouldn’t I?” There’s warmth in his voice, —

your magic. I wanted to know who else was out here. Who you were.”

His throat works around the lump that’s been forming there. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

It’s strange, this version of Viktor before him. Different from the one he’d known—proud, brilliant, but very rarely so visibly shaken, —

his face. “I just—” He huffs, glancing away briefly, trying to find the right words, the ones that won’t send Viktor running.

“I just 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 you,” he explains, albeit unsure if that’s the right thing to say. “I didn’t know who you were exactly at first, but I kept sensing —

in front of him, palms on full display, golden light flickering faintly before it fades entirely. No threats. No fight. “I swear it.”

Viktor’s breath is ragged, his stance tense and tight like a wounded animal. Jayce doesn’t move any closer, but his brows knit together, concern plain on —