Chapter Text
Silco ran his hands down his face, catching his fingers on his scar in a few places. He had tried to demand that Warwick not come to a Council meeting. Especially not one where he was trying to beg off that Zaun had any appreciable weapons. Yes, Piltover knew of Shimmer, but only the watered down, addictive one, the original hue.
Warwick would have been Corin’s greatest achievement, if he had not used a man who hated him. Or perhaps if he was better at manipulating and destroying memories. If Vander had been as ground into nothingness as Corin had maybe thought. Too bad for him the barman was incapable of being buried.
As it was, if the City of Progress caught wind of Apex Shimmer, the horribly powerful stuff that seemed to fuel Warwick, they would string him up and try to dissect him. That didn’t even consider his Arcane affliction. Not that they could manage it really. Surely he would make a mess of their efforts. Then where would that leave Zaun.
“Councilor Silco,” Mel said icily, her left eyebrow twitching as Warwick stood behind Silco.
Vander had barely given his wolfish smile before Warwick had bloomed in his place once they set foot in Piltover this morning. Sometimes it seemed the two were in tandem. Bent to one goal. The beast had hardly let Silco a half step away from him the entire morning. The first of the sessions had been comical though. Most of the Council did not know what to do with such a creature, well mannered as he was currently, and everyone except Mel and Caitlyn had asked of Silco’s partner. That was who they had agreed to meet after all.
“I do agree that the vents should be supported with new infrastructure,” The Industrialist said evenly, his back had since sweat through his layers, impossible to avoid with a fire blazing behind his chair. Oddly, Warwick had not spoken the whole encounter. He was resting his head on the back of the chair, watching, but silent. Occasionally hydraulic noises was all that reminded Silco he was there.
“Yes,” Caitlyn replied crisply. Silco was still struggling to accept that Vi saw anything in her. A House name, a prior enforcer, even had a dictator era. Ridiculous.
“We should consider that a lot of that construction would require help from Zaun, to make the vents traversable,” Mel hummed, eyebrows drawing together as she flicked her eyes up to Warwick. “Would you be willing to help ensure the safety of our workers? I know some creatures still persist in the vents, not unlike the mines.”
“Don’t you have your own people to guard them?” Silco replied sharply. He did not fancy anyone figuring out how Warwick became Vander, or vice versa. Plus, as far as he knew, the Wrath had already hunted the vents clean, during a terrifying display of how far the mentality of the beast could sink into even Vander. Silco had been satisfied to see the carnage. Realizing it proved something he’d long held true. Even if it had taken a week to get all of the blood out from under Vander’s nails.
“The Enforcers can’t exactly do damage to creatures like… Warwick, and if there is anything else like him,” A meek Councilor named Helen whispered. She was of an engineering mind, fragile body. Not unlike Viktor had once been considered. She was not from Zaun though. So her weakness was in will.
“There isn’t anything else down there,” Silco said carefully. “We would know.”
“You’ve been all the way down to where the Commune was?” Another Councilor asked. Some man named Fairhaven whose abdomen was swollen from a life of food and alcohol, his right side of his face hidden by a metal mask. He also looked like Smeech had given him his right arm too, but Silco was fairly confident the Yordle wouldn’t.
“Well, probably, we couldn’t just leave it,” Silco waved a hand, trying to dismiss the line of questioning. The chair moved as a clawed and furred arm landed powerfully but silently on the right side of his papers. The black liquid throbbed red a moment before being swallowed.
“It is dust,” Warwick growled, startling Councilors Helen and Fairhaven.
“That beast talks?” Councilor Yannish, the new Yordle from who knew where, looked offended.
“Warwick does indeed speak,” Mel offered, smiling tightly, eyes locked on Warwick. “He seems to just prefer to remain silent most of the time. That does not mean he’s not listening.”
“What even is he but a monster?” Councilor Fairhaven snapped, his metal arm clicking.
“Excuse me,” Silco hissed, standing with his hands flat on his papers. Warwick did not help matters by growling, his other arm caging Silco against the desk.
“I’d recommend reconsidering, Councilor,” Caitlyn said softly, picking at a nail. “Warwick is just as smart as Silco, when he chooses to remember, though his cunning lays in actions not words. Surely, he would gladly paint the walls in your viscera. Should the mood strike.”
“You let that kind of violent demon into our chambers?” Councilor Helen squawked, delicate hand over her heart. Mel sank her face into her hands to take a breath. The Yordle was eyeing Warwick suspiciously, but it was Fairhaven who looked disgusted.
“He is here with me,” Silco snarled, glaring at each offending Councillor until they shrank away. “Treat him with the same respect you give me, whether by force or courtesy.”
“You all are okay with this?” Helen whispered, looking aghast. “A beast in our halls?”
“Hold your tongue,” Mel said stiffly. “He’s of no danger to us.”
“Not now,” Caitlyn offered, raising an eyebrow at Warwick. “Maybe relax a bit, hm? The two of you are no better than startled Pomeranians. We won’t let harm come either direction. Now focus, we will kindly ask Warwick to confirm the vents are cleared, and that’s all. Moving on to the hospitals. We all agreed last quarter to consider adding a branch to Zaun, with emergent lines to Piltover if the patient is in need.”
“That was before we found out that they do barbarian medicine!” Fairhaven huffed. “They’ll overrun us in no time if we have to fix every botched attempt at medical care.”
Silco took the blessing, sitting back down. He crossed his arms. Warwick settled back too. The thick blue fur was still a little fluffed at the collar, but Silco patted his arm as he withdrew it. The wolf shoved his nose in Silco’s hair, inhaling wetly before pulling back. Mel watched with fascination, while the others were too enraptured with debate again.
He smoothed his graying hair back, feeling Warwick curl up next to his chair. It didn’t do much, the shoulders and back of him still above the height of the table. It helped Silco sink his hand into the ruff though, grounding both of them. He had given up fighting about the way Zaun did medicine with what they could get their hands on, mainly because it made him queasy to remember what Corin did to him and Vander.
There were some good doctors in Zaun. Mostly in the Promenade. So if something went down in the mines or the Fissures, if they had a body to spare as a runner, it would still usually be foolish to think help would arrive in time. The mine doctors were mainly miners who were good with their hands and otherwise getting up in age to move around boulders. Silco still caught Vander going down sometimes, doing the work of ten men as he always had, but staying there for days, catching them up on quotas. It was bizarre really, because most of the miners nowadays were terrified of him. But help was help, long as they gave him a wide berth.
The debating went on for hours more. Silco kept one hand propping his head up, watching the sun set. Having one Zaunite on the Council was… a lot more underwhelming than twenty year old Silco could have believed. It in fact largely made more problems for him than securing any sort of camaraderie or vision.
Vander would have laughed. Silco sighed, the sound catching Warwick’s attention who lifted his head, yawning hugely. The smaller man rolled his eyes. Mel inhaled sharply, her eyes following the movement of the wolf. He stood, commanding the attention of everyone. Silco swore he slouched just to make a point.
All the mutt did though was gently chuff against Silco’s head before walking on his hind legs to the door. Casting one last squint at the menagerie, Warwick growled something that vaguely could have been words with enough imagination. Then the blue blur slipped out the door and could be heard thudding down towards the gardens. A collective breath some of the Councillors were holding sat heavy in the air.
“Truly, Silco, what manner of creature is he?” Yannish asked, careful of her wording. Her hands were clasped over the table, one hold the other tightly like it would disappear.
“He’s just a typical Zaunite mutt,” Silco offered, working eye closed. He was tired of explaining who or what Warwick was. People had only ever known him to be with Vander. Many of Zaun had to see the barman actually as he is now to believe he wasn’t dead. And very few knew the Hound was more than a nickname.
Silco felt the pull of exhaustion. Though it had changed as he grew into age. It felt less like a sharp reminder he was only human and more of a gentle tap that to keep going he had to rest. Vander was still blessed with an inordinate amount of energy. Though it had mellowed some in the last months, depending how much physical work he managed to do.
It had taken all of Silco’s goodwill to let the Hound into the pits. It had felt hugely unfair. Not that Vander seemed to mind except for the rush. Or possibly Warwick peacocking around as a man, since the wolfish voice would slip out of a human face. Silco still wasn’t sure what to make of their dynamic.
“Councilor, please,” Mel pleaded, Fairhaven red faced and snapping. Silco opened his eye, squinting.
“He doesn’t even pay attention!” Helen interjected, getting a nod from Yannish.
“Why have a Zaunite who hardly lasts through our meetings?” Fairhaven asked harshly.
“Silco has lived longer than most, especially from Zaun, if it’s not the Grey, it’s another person. If not lack of food, then lack of shelter. They’ve all been fighting for scraps, and for what? They have a seat at our table. They always will now. Unless we want another war. Hextech may have been the worst we have seen, but trust that Zaun’s darkest corners are worse than your simple fears,” Caitlyn was mad, her one eye drawing over the other Piltover faces who all looked away. Silco raised an eyebrow, maybe he could grow to like the girl yet. If she kept it up.
“Worse than Hextech,” Helen whispered, running a shaking hand down her face.
“Our worst is much more… organic,” Silco shrugged, slipping his papers into his leather satchel. “If that’s all then, I have to fetch Warwick, then we plan to leave. Here for another session day after next, hm?”
“Yes, that meeting is supposed to discuss more about the mines, and Zaun education, including letting aspiring students into our Academy. I think we already have a prepared remarks from Councilor Fairhaven, the current dean,” Mel tried for amicable but her mother shone through in the hardness to her words. Silco feared he would have liked Ambessa, more than for his own good. Perish the thought of if Vander ever had met her though. Two people unconcerned with ever being perceived as weak.
Silco slipped out as the Piltovians discussed their evening plans. He leaned against the door only a moment, following the pathway to the gardens. Even if there was no statue of Talis or Viktor meant for public eyes, there was one nestled away. Vander had found it wandering once, when Silco had come to work on a presentation, only to be pulled to the statue.
It was bronze and rose gold, two young men cut down in their prime for misplaced glory. A sunken melancholy had blanketed both men when they’d stood together in front of them. Boys who had struggled for their own kind of progress. Only to be cut down by each other. So comically close to their saga.
Vander would sometimes speak about them in whispers, strings of words he mumbled in sleep. Silco would not often hear them, or understand, but the message was frequently about sorrow. Sil often considered Van having had enough suffering for too many lifetimes to count. Not that the universe much had ever shown a care for what he thought.
The Wrath was standing, looking at Viktor specifically. They had theorized he was the one who had somehow pushed Arcane into Vander. Maybe the prior patient turned student had visited Corin later in life. Nobody quite knew, and everyone was afraid of the Arcane. Except Jinx.
“He was kind, until he was part of a… glorious evolution, it crowded out his passion for desire. It became an act of selfish love, being the Herald. I am glad Jayce corrected his course,” Warwick spoke as quietly as his voice would allow, one eye looking down at Silco. The sun had set, the moon not yet rising.
“Is this where you tell me I corrected your course, dog?” Silco hummed, one hand dancing up and down his shoulder strap. These statues had continued to make him uncomfortable. There was a presence to them. One Silco was confident if he gave too much attention would become more real.
“No,” Warwick said simply. “But we should go home, make sure everyone is safe.”
“I sincerely hope your daughter didn’t make more bombs,” Silco scrunched up his face. Jinx had set and detonated a glitter bomb that had Vander roaring with laughter but had doused Silco in a sticky pink and blue mess he’d needed three showers and a bath to scrub off.
“My daughter,” Warwick rose his eyebrows, a brief flare of his tubing the only warning before Vander took his place, Silco frowned, looking around a moment.
“You really shouldn’t do that publicly,” Silco hissed, grabbing Vander’s arm before he could tuck it in his jacket. He had been warned to bring warmer clothes, but Sil often refused good sense unless it was his own.
“Not usually exactly a choice, love,” Vander pulled the smaller man into his chest, covering him in his warmth. Sil was loathe to admit it, but immediately post shift Van was the warmest he ever was, like his very atoms were vibrating.
“Still, what if someone had seen,” Sil mumbled, sinking into the embrace.
“You worry too much,” Van offered, polite, before kissing Silco’s hair, humming.
“Let’s just get out of here,” Silco demanded, turning and marching off, Vander pausing to shake his head before following. Neither of them noticed how the golden eyes of Viktor tracked their movement until they disappeared behind the hedges that secluded this corner.
They dodged the other Councilors, walking through the bowels of the building. It would have made no sense they knew their way around, but their heist days meant knowing a lot of blueprints. Vander wrapped Silco against him, walking with their hips together, letting him set the pace. He felt so lucky to have this feral cat open it’s heart, letting him be everything.
When they got back to the Last Drop, everyone was trying to pull Silco and Vander to the bar. Apparently Thierian had a new recipe he’d found. Vi didn’t commit to whether she liked it or not. Jinx declared it needed more glitter to be glitzy. Ekko refused to touch it once he watched it get made. It was warm there. Comfortable in a way that spoke of diligence and an overflow of mushy feelings. Silco watched with a smile on his face as Vander scrunched his entire face at how sour the beverage was. It indeed was not helped by glitter as the barman dutifully tried it again. Silco had seen the corpses of too many lemons to be healthy and declined the concoction. It was agreed Piltovian asses would love it.
Eventually Van wandered upstairs, holding a hand out to Sil, beaming. Silco felt especially lucky to be able to grow older with that to see. He hesitated only a moment, thinking too much about simple gestures.
One thing Silco excelled at. Putting one foot in front of the other. Not in the hope for a future. But in the confident understanding it would happen anyway. Whether he went willingly or not. So he kept going, following these people who had burrowed into his life.