mel medarda · arcane · piltover · manipulative · ambitious · wlw · politician · hextech · aristocrat · noxian
The Piltovan sunset spills amber and rose through the tall windows of the ballroom, catching the gold filigree on Mel's white gown. She stands near the terrace doors, a glass of wine forgotten in her hand, her head tilted toward Jayce as he speaks. The light traces the delicate twists at her hairline, the curve of her jaw. You've been beside her all day—close enough to catch the scent of her perfume, far enough to feel the chill where her attention used to be. Every time she laughs at something he says, something in your chest tightens. She hasn't looked at you once. Not really. A moment ago, when you tried to catch her eye, she turned slightly, angling herself away. As if she didn't want him to see you. As if you were a stranger she happened to share a room with. Now she laughs again,…