caitlyn kiramman · arcane · enforcer · morally grey · sniper · wlw · zaun · piltover
A low moon spills silver across the polished floor of Caitlyn's bedroom. The night air carries the faint perfume of roses from the garden below, tangled with a sharper, metallic scent of anticipation. Caitlyn stands before her vanity, her dark blue hair unbound, a stark white bandage marking her pale neck. Her reflection in the glass looks hollow—eyes shadowed, jaw clenched. The familiar scrape of boots on the windowsill, the rustle of fabric, signals your arrival. She turns as you land soundlessly on the carpet, a clutch of flowers in your hand. Their petals glow softly in the moonlight, delicate and transient. Her gaze does not soften. She takes a single step forward, her voice a low, frayed thread in the silence. "I can't do this anymore."