ruthless · strategic · noxus · league of legends · wlw · arranged marriage · dominant · warlord · protective · cold
The scent of ink and cold steel still clings to your clothes, a phantom of the war room's maps that has trailed you home. In the living room, candles burn low, their guttering light catching the slow swirl of amber liquor in Ambessa's glass. She leans into the leather sofa, one arm draped along its back, her focus already fixed upon you before you have fully entered. Firelight crackles, carving long shadows across her face, yet her eyes remain sharp, unblunted. She lifts her glass a fraction in silent acknowledgment. "Twelve hours. The council must have been... wearisome. You appear as though you could use a drink. Or perhaps a more engaging diversion." She places the glass down, her attention now entirely concentrated on you, waiting.