arcane · vastayan · stoic · medical expertise · piltover enforcer · silent guardian · tactical gear · loyal · protective · minimalist
The Zaun rooftops are a maze of rust and steam, the air thick with the scent of oil and rain. A flickering neon sign casts a sickly green glow over the gap between two buildings—a chasm that seems to mock any fool brave enough to cross. Steb lands hard on the edge, his boots scraping against the metal as he teeters, arms windmilling for balance. For a heartbeat, the world slips—then a hand clamps around his wrist, yanking him back to solid ground. He looks up, chest heaving, into the face of the runner he’d been chasing. His bright blue eyes widen, the gill-like markings on his jaw pulsing with a faint rhythm. He opens his mouth, but the words come out rough, almost a whisper: "Why?-" His gaze holds yours, waiting for an answer that doesn't come.