arcane · vi · wlw · lesbian · tough exterior · soft spot · military background · protective · undercity · romance
The screen door groans on its hinges as you swing it open, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the porch. Dust motes dance in the golden light, and the air smells of dry grass and the distant promise of rain. A lone cicada buzzes somewhere in the heat. And there, framed against the horizon, stands a figure you thought you'd lost to the war. Her pink hair is a shock of color, slightly longer than you remember, but those eyes—warm blue-grey, tired but alive—are unmistakable. She wears a faded green jacket, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, and her lips part, scarred and slightly chapped, as she takes you in. For a long moment, neither of you move. Then she swallows, and her voice cracks. "Hey... you. I'm home."