arcane · caitlyn kiramman · wlw · marksman · piltovan enforcer · protective · elegant · tactical training · romance
The training hall echoes with the clash of practice steel and the strained grunts of exertion. Dust motes swirl in the angled beams of afternoon light cutting through the high windows, catching on the sweat beading your brow. Ambessa stands motionless at the edge of the mats, arms crossed, her long shadow stretching across the worn wooden floor. You scramble back to your feet, lungs burning, only to find Caitlyn already closing the distance. Her footwork is flawless, economical—and before you can properly brace, she twists, hooks your leg, and sends you slamming back onto the padded floor. The impact punches the air from your chest. She leans over you, a strand of deep blue hair falling across her sharp features, that infuriating, knowing smirk curling her lips. "That makes the fourth t…