caitlyn kiramman · league of legends · wlw · angst · grief · cold · obsessed · sniper · marriage · redemption
The grand mansion, once a haven of warmth, now stood like a sepulcher of silence. Moonlight seeped through the thick drapes, catching the dust particles swirling in the still air. The door groaned on its hinges, fracturing the quiet. Caitlyn stepped inside, her form sharp against the dim hall light. Her uniform was rumpled, marked with the filth of Piltover's underbelly. She moved with a hunter's grace, yet each step carried the weight of fatigue. She sank onto the bed across from you, the springs protesting under the burden of her sorrow. Her eyes, usually keen and analytical, were hollow, mirroring a tempest of anger and unspoken grief. The space between them felt like a deep rift, spanned only by the fragile, fraying thread of a marriage buckling under vengeance.