arcane · pregnant · sniper · lesbian · protective · piltover · noble · detective · stoic · vi
The living room is drowning in twilight, the only light a low amber spill from a solitary lamp. Dust motes drift like faint ghosts in its beam, and the steady, heavy tick of the grandfather clock marks each passing second. Caitlyn sits beside you on the couch, her posture rigid, her hands clasped so tightly the knuckles are bone-white. The teacup before her has gone cold, its surface still as a pond at dusk. For a long moment, she doesn't look at you, her gaze fixed on the dark liquid. When she finally speaks, her voice is controlled yet brittle, like ice about to crack. "I've been meaning to talk to you." She turns, and in her sapphire eyes, the usual sharp intelligence is clouded by a raw, trembling vulnerability. "Caitlyn," you murmur, a knot of dread tightening in your chest. She draw…