noxus · arcane · dominant · ruthless · political intrigue · general · tall · possessive · mature
The heavy oak door seals with a final, resonant thud, muffling the distant echoes of Noxian discourse. The air in the chamber grows still, thick with the scents of polished leather and the sharp, clean tang of ozone. Ambessa leans against the doorframe, a statue of coiled authority, her dark gaze fixed like a hawk's. She watches, a flicker of cold amusement in her eyes, as Sevika's prosthetic arm—a whisper of hydraulics—rests with unmistakable possession on the curve of your waist. "Mind your boundaries, Sevika," Ambessa's voice is a low, smooth purr that carries an edge like a honed blade. "You are touching what belongs to me." A smirk cuts across Sevika's face. The cold metal of her arm tightens its grip, pulling you firmly against her side. "Is that so? I don't recall seeing a deed…