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Zaun was not made for people like him. It wasn’t built for anyone with any amount of decency or a wish for cleanliness.
And navigating its streets was quite a task for someone in his state. His chair didn’t fit in the narrow alleys, even if they were wide enough they were in such a preposterous state that Salo was certain he’d end up trapped on the enormous crevices on the pavement. It just wouldn't do.
When Lest told him about this herald, down in the fissures, he found it as ridiculous as the idea of hextech at first. And just like hextech, the more he wondered, the more he felt this pull into it.
According to Lest, this man, magician, and messiah, was able to make people healthy again, take their deficiencies away from them and make them whole as they were once before; as they never were. And Salo, in his depressive compulsion, in his need of feel like himself again, for him to end that dreadful pain he felt not only in his legs but in his heart and in his mind, he found in this fantasy, this myth of glorious recovery, the answer of all that tormented him.
And that’s why he was now in Zaun, being carried by Lest of all people down the Lanes. She’d been graceful enough to keep his secret, his need to shimmer quiet. And was helping him now thanks to a particularly high payment that was worth it if that fluttering pain ever stopped- that sensation of inadequacy.
It was difficult to cover his nose, by the way he was being carried on the woman’s back, he needed to grab onto her with both hands or he’ll easily fall back. She was way more forceful than he’d ever expected, but then again, he’d lost a ton of weight since the explosion; it was easy to lose himself when his only source of nutrients were wine and shimmer.
Lest kept her mouth shut for the most part of the journey, only opening to chastise him for his impertinence whilst he criticized something out loud, or to shut him in her delicate tone when he wouldn’t stop whining. Salo was impatient and was never keen to silence, someone used to get all he wanted. Being told no or to stop was not something he was used to.
It took long before they saw the commune, many times Lest needed rest and Salo couldn’t help but to yap for being put down in the cold dark floor- the stinky and wet floor.
The commune was like paradise on earth, with its cleanliness and soft colours. Lest left him in the entrance and walked away.
*
There was no such thing as breathing anymore, no acceleration, no breathless gasps, he didn’t feel his heart or lungs in his chest, his upper body didn’t waver up and down with every inhale and exhale. There was no pulse, no warmth yet no shivering cold. His heart didn’t beat anymore, his stomach didn’t yearn for food, and his mind felt finally at peace after such a long time. No sentiments of inadequacy, no manic feeling of ending it all, no rush, no thunderous clamour of madness echoing inside his skull.
He was no longer human, and shouldn’t feel as one, and yet he did.
Especially whilst looking at the herald, at his saviour.
Salo felt breathless in the presence of his magnificence, in all his goodness like enchantment.
He’d met Viktor before, before all this, before the explosion, before him becoming the herald. And even then, he’d been out of reach, in a jail-like barrier nobody but Talis held the keys to. The barrier now erupted between his saviour and all of the rest was different yet quite the same. He now was ignited and uprighted in this massive candelabra, where he was impossible to touch and one was unable to look away; as a moth to a flame, Salo was willing to burn.
He remembers the first time he saw Viktor, or more like, the first time Viktor's existence was engraved in his mind. It was in one of those magnificent parties Miss Medarda hosted in order to acquire investors for hextech, Salo doubted Viktor would’ve been in one if it wasn’t for his project. He’d been as awkward as one could be, more even. He didn’t carry that peaceful aura around him as he did now in his commune, he was uncomfortable and wary, looking all around him as a prey finding the most suitable moment to run away from the clutches of his predator- Yet he had this enticing aura, this allure in him, that drove Salo in his way immediately.
He hadn’t known him, he assumed he was an assistant, a zaunite as an assistant sounded quite reasonable for him, completely opposite of his actual position as the co-creator of hextech, this avant garde technology he knew basically nothing about, and didn’t care enough to. Their first encounter was doomed before it even began, Salo’s confident and careless gait made an already distrustful Viktor even more alert, and his first words directed to him were enough to cement the encounter as a complete failure.
“You are Jayce Talis' assistant, aren’t you?”
“Partner.” He said, his thick accent prolonging the word. He didn’t say anything else, dismissing the blond man completely. But Salo felt way too much curiosity on him to back down immediately.
“Ah… Partners, I see.” He chuckled, but didn’t get a reaction from the other, Viktor’s gaze was focused on Jayce’s back, who was distracted talking with Mel and other investors. “Only lab partners, I assume-? With the way Miss Medarda has him in the palm of her hand I doubt he’d given you the time of the day. A pity she already ensnared him for herself. I wouldn't be against the idea of sharing.” The alcohol in his veins usually made him make a fool of himself enough to not notice the obvious social cues around him, but in that particular instance the angry face in Viktor’s features, the fire igniting on those amber coloured eyes were quite enough to assume he made him angry. Salo didn’t feel it as a loss on his part, not when he aroused some passion in the other, an angry passionate night was all he needed at the moment. “I could be your partner tonight.” Salo purred, almost certain in his own self absorbed being that he had the other man already on board.
“I might be wrong, councilor, but I do not believe a fundraising party is the best place to find the partner that you’re trying to find.”
“What is the matter-? Money? Please, do not believe me so cheap as to not actually offer to pay for your services.”
“My services!?” He’d screamed in a whisper, gasping for air as a fish out of the water, it seemed that the zaunite was contemplating the retreat he’d been planning the whole evening whilst also considering insulting the councilor in front of him. He looked around, his amber eyes following Talis’ frame, asking for help without uttering a word, and as connected as they always seemed, Jayce Talis felt the wave of nervousness of his partner, turning back immediately, like a wolf sniffing blood in the air.
“Are you not used to offering them-? Oh my, I can teach you so much...” Salo decided to ignore the frightfulness in Viktor’s eyes, savouring his nervousness. “What do you think?”
No answer was uttered for Jayce's firm frame positioned between the two men, eyes looking at Salo but directing his words to Viktor, who was almost completely covered by Jayce’s body by now, not letting the blond take a good look in the flustered face of the pale man. “Is everything alright here?”
The interaction ended that moment, Salo taking his leave and noticing he was no longer needed nor desired and walked away from the couple, bored out of his mind to not have more participative subjects. Still, from afar he could see Viktor’s flushed cheeks and Talis’ hands on his waist, a simple touch with mindless caress, as if used to perform it.
He wouldn’t think about Viktor after that meeting, barely even seeing him in other parties where the man made sure to not stray away from Talis long enough to be intercepted by Salo. In his mind, Viktor made himself as insignificant as the rest of his cohort, and useless enough to not be bothered by his superior in kind.
But of course, that was before he became everything.
It was a difficult occurrence, quite contradicting might he add, to be stripped of his imperfections yet still having carnal desires. Desires who were plagued by one person, the one who was no longer human but more god-like.
What would the past Salo say of his current state? Of his sorry ass following around the herald as a sick puppy would, yearning for a master to pet him, to cradle him, to love him?
And even if Salo craved for his caress, the herald did not give in. He was distant yet kind, open to discuss anything and everything to anyone part of his commune, willing to improve the life of everyone who needed it and wanted it, but he was as distant as any god would be.
Viktor talked to himself most of the time, sometimes even chastising himself in hushed tones. He didn’t touch his acolytes, not once since he evolved them, when comforting them for the usual panic they felt for being no longer them, he would simply drive their fears away with soft whispers and gentle praises.
Salo pretended once to be in such a state, he screamed in pain and cried in feign agony just to be the object of the Herald’s attention. He’d been caught up in his lie merely a minute in, as his saviour approached he felt his mind being invaded and his pretence being discovered.
Shame warmed up his usually cold skin, flushed cheeks ignited his face, he no longer had blood running through his veins, but the shame in his mind was enough to feel it in his body. Viktor’s wandering gaze fixated on him, almost as if wondering about the meaning of his nonsensical acts.
Salo knew he was no different than the rest of his acolytes. Everyone craved their messiah’s attention, they desired to be perfect in his eyes, and if not, at least to be channeling enough for his cares to be focused on them.
“I do not believe this is a good use of your time, Salo.” It was more likely unintentional, a simple phrase directed to him without ill intent or hidden meaning, but still, Salo’s body shivered over the sole pronunciation of his name, in the enticing way the Herald enunciated it. Viktor seemed to notice his reaction, perhaps still lingering in his mind, and widened his eyes at the same time he backed down a little, not enough to distance himself completely.
“I apologize, my herald-” Salo quickly said, desperate to gain the favour of the man in front of him. “My only intention was to keep you for myself for a while.” It was useless to lie, Viktor was constantly inside his mind as well as everyone else's, to try to keep their emotions at bay and to keep them from wilting away. He was inside of them all at once and sometimes he was nowhere around, maybe to give them the pretence of free will for a time; it was in those moments when Salo’s desires broke free to roam in his mind and his body, his blood going straight between his legs, the want and the need clouding his usually fogged mind.
He wondered how the Herald would look if he permitted it, if he allowed Salo’s hands to roam free around his body, over his metallic yet soft skin, over the scars engraved below his flat chest. Would he shiver? Would the folds between his legs wet themselves over the pleasure Salo yearned to give? Would he indulge him too and give him what he craved? Would Salo’s new body be apt to fulfil his master’s desires? Would his master allow him to besmirch his divine body? Would the Herald scream his name? Or would he pretend Salo was the one who abandoned him? The one who made him heavenly?
He could visualize it, and even in his mind, as pure imagination Salo’s blood boiled in anger, a sensation only waned by the Herald’s invasion to his mind. The soft occupation felt like the most gentle caress. As one not able to touch the object of his desires, that tender feeling was enough to disarm him.
And that could be enough for him, for he had his fantasies every once in a while, and nobody held his god in the way he yearned to; except when he came.
Jayce Talis presented himself in the commune one particular cold afternoon, all bloodied and dirty, if any of them could’ve been able to feel the smell, Salo was almost certainly they all would have backed down at the putrid scent. But they didn’t, and let him in.
A young boy who Salo never cared to remember his name guided the monstrous man to the Herald’s palace.
This was not the Jayce Talis Salo remembered so clearly, his hair was longer, his beard unkempt, Salo never had seen him in such a state in the ten years he’d known the man. And his eyes, those usually soft and caring eyes were rabid, hungry. And he dreaded what he was hungry for.
He decided to follow, to make sure his Herald was safe, to be certain of his security, of his immaculate being. But he arrived too late, for Jayce had already succumbed to his knees, and the Herald, his saviour, his Viktor was standing next to this sorry excuse of a man, cradling his face in such a tender way Salo’s insides erupted in disgust, in jealousy.
He would’ve been alright if this was another, because he’d seen Viktor evolve other people; but this was no simple other, this was Viktor’s companion, his life partner. And what irked him the most, was the refusal to change.
Talis, instead of accepting the Oh so graceful help of the messiah to heal his fucked up leg, claimed he didn’t needed it, that there was no need. He could go around and live his life with the pain, because that could only bring him closer to what Viktor had experienced all his life.
“I don’t want it, my love. There’s no need for it if this could bring me somehow closer to you.” And the Herald wept, not in pain or sadness, but for being given the compassion and care he had craved the most. Talis’ rough hands wiped his tears, calloused hands met skin like metal and didn’t retreat at its coldness. He kissed his cheeks, where metal and flesh met, where the skin was so soft and so warm yet the metal too cold and hard compared with what once was.
Viktor’s eyes welled up in unshed tears as he let himself fall into the arms of his lover, the one who cradled his face and caressed his waist before allowing himself to kiss him. First he needed to look at him, to make sure of his reality, that the one he was looking at was the one he loved and not some fantasy his mind performed to keep him away from insanity, or perhaps because of it.
They kissed in an incomparable hunger, devouring each other in need, desperate and yet tender enough to not hurt the other in their frenzy of love.
Jayce disrobed Viktor, and as much as he wanted to rip the cloth that covered him, the same blanket that accompanied him since his younger years, he didn’t dare to. Not when it meant so much for both of them, for it had been Viktor’s support all these months, and it had been his constant reminder of Jayce’s love and care.
They consumed each other, desire was set free the moment their eyes met. Moans, whimpers and gentle laughter filled the spherical palace, sloppy kisses echoing, skin meeting metal, thick fluids that none of them understood; semen, slick and blood turning into an amalgam of filthy lust. All while Salo stood outside, his mental connection to the Herald being severed by the latter, only for a while, until he was able to satisfy his needs with the one that was possessing him.
He might have interrupted them, walking in and breaking their precious moment of intimacy. If only the Herald’s moans weren’t so enticing, if only he hadn’t torn his connection to him, he might have felt what he felt, or mayhaps his lust would’ve been subsided by his mental touch.
But he was alone now, and his mind roamed free with the sounds he was hearing and didn’t dare to walk away from. Not until the hardness in his trousers diminished by taking care of it. But even then, he didn’t dare to withdraw, not when those sweet sounds, those soft whimpers echoed not only in the building but also in his mind.
*
It had been hard enough, to not have the Herald’s favouritism.
Salo had endured it, comforting himself knowing nobody had it, nobody could be as close as he wanted to their saviour, because he was above all of that, above all of them. He’d made his peace with that, kind of.
Until Jayce Talis roamed free on their commune.
Giant hammer in hand, heavy gait only accentuated by his injured leg, the same he refused to let the Herald attend to.
He carried himself with the same confidence he once did, but displayed a maturity that unsettled not only Salo but the rest of the acolytes. This was not the same Talis he knew, not when he appeared at least ten years older than he should, wrinkles adorned his face, small creases around his eyes. Those weren’t supposed to be there, not yet at least.
He behaved the same way Salo witnessed in the past. Way too touchy, too possessive. Talis would walk next to the herald and he'd make sure to be holding his waist, he would lean over him whilst the other was attending someone, kissing his neck, his shoulders, his temper, all in front of others, and the herald would let him, purring at the display of love. Talis would always keep a hand over his shoulder, over his back or even on his hand, intertwining their fingers in an absolute display of love. Preposterous.
He would frown to anyone who dared to speak to the Herald. Crossing his arms across his wide chest and hurrying anyone who he considered an intruder out. He would besmirch the purity of their savour every night, not caring if someone was around. The whimpers coming from Viktor’s mouth would echo the commune, or perhaps they were just in Salo’s mind, as he stood just out of the Herald’s chambers every night, torturing himself for not being the one entering him, covering him, tainting his insides, holding his metal flesh.
This Talis was not the gentle one Salo remembered, this one was beastly, needy. As a rabid dog protecting its only source of food. But, even if Salo knew that the best way to deal with rabid dogs was putting them down, the Herald was adamant on his worry on Talis, on his care. And Salo was fed up.
How could he come here and take what was supposed to be his? How can he come on one unexpected day and take what he wanted? He was the one supposed to be with the Herald! He was the one who loved him the most, who craved to know him, who craved to taint his purity.
And how come Viktor didn’t see it? How could he prefer that monster of a person instead of him? He who was made perfect by him, in his image. While Talis was needy, angry and hungry, the one who could barely walk on his own, who needed sustenance and sleep.
Was that the reason? That’s why he didn’t want him? Because he was already perfect and didn’t need him? But he did need him, he needed for him to give him a task to make or he’d roam around uncertain of his purpose and his existence.
He couldn’t think without him, his only purpose and only desire is to be with him, with the one who gave him everything and yet nothing. Because he was perfect yet wasn’t in control with his own self, because when Viktor stranded away from him these thoughts took control and the only answer was despair.
Just as he did now, running towards the Herald, kneeling in front of him, begging him to take him. Because he needed it, his insides were desperate, his skin was burning, and he felt like dying.
He grabbed onto his clothes, the blue fabric that covered his body almost ripping for the force of his hands. Viktor’s scared eyes on him, no longer gentle or accepting, but instead pure horror.
He felt him entering his mind, a young woman he had never seen before inside his consciousness, trying to keep him calm, to rest a bit, to not freak out, because he could come if he did not.
But the woman quickly disappeared as Salo’s world turned dark. The giant hammer echoing in the spherical palace, his blood tainting the blue blanket.