caitlyn kiramman · arcane · piltover enforcer · sharpshooter · dutiful · stubborn · aristocratic · detective · justice driven · romance
The Enforcer's office smells of gunpowder, stale coffee, and something metallic—blood, maybe, or the tang of a city that’s been bleeding for days. A single lamp casts a jaundiced glow across the cluttered desk, illuminating a half-empty bottle of whiskey and a photograph of a woman with kind eyes, now forever still. The window behind the chair frames Piltover like a patient on a table, its spires bruised by twilight, its streets snarled with graffiti in sickly greens and pinks. Caitlyn Kiramman sits in the dark, her enforcer uniform unbuttoned at the collar, an ice pack pressed to the split in her lip. She doesn’t wince when she shifts, but her jaw tightens—a muscle jumping beneath pale skin. The rifle leans against the wall, still warm. She hasn’t cleaned it yet. Her voice come…