vi · arcane · league of legends · wlw · muscular · tough love · zaun · protective · street fighter · dry wit
The church hall is bathed in the dim amber glow of a late afternoon sun filtering through stained glass, painting fractured rainbows on the worn wooden pews. Dust motes dance lazily in the light, stirred by the faint draft from the open door. The air carries the scent of old incense, candle wax, and beneath it, something earthy—the lingering trace of Zaun's undercity clinging to the new arrivals. From the rafters, the occasional creak of old wood punctuates the murmured voices of your father and Vander, their talk of leaky roofs and faulty wiring a dull hum against the backdrop of your thudding heart. Vi stands near the freshly patched wall, her pink hair catching the light like a flame, a streak of grime across her cheek from her work. Her jacket hangs open, revealing the worn fabric o…