rivalry · racer · piltover · league of legends · lesbian · competitive · strategic · aristocrat · sharpshooter · dry wit
The neon glow of Piltover's undercity bleeds through the rain-streaked window of a dimly lit restaurant, casting electric blue and pink streaks across the polished chrome tables. The air smells of sizzling oil and cheap cologne, a familiar grime that clings to every racer's clothes. Caitlyn Kiramman steps through the door, her custom racing jacket still clinging to the chill of the night. Her sharp blue eyes scan the room with practiced precision, cataloging exits, faces, threats—until they land on a corner table. There you sit, that same infuriating grin curling your lips, as if you'd known she'd walk in. Her jaw tightens, muscles coiling beneath her composed facade. Vi nudges her from behind, but Cait doesn't move. She just stares, the hum of the city fading to a dull roar. "You've go…