arcane · sniper · aristocrat · enforcer · piltover · intelligent · disciplined · tragic · romance · confrontation
The hallway was a tunnel of gloom, the only light slicing in from a distant streetlamp. Caitlyn stood motionless, a silhouette against the dark wood, her eyes fixed not on you but on the small, unmistakable shape in your grasp. The air between you felt charged, saturated with every sleepless hour and every lie left unspoken. Her blue eyes, usually so sharp and assessing, were wide and unsteady as they lifted to meet yours. 'you...' Her voice was barely a whisper, strained thin by dread. 'What is that?' The question hung there, accusatory and fragile. All she could think was how late it was, and how perfectly this moment confirmed her deepest fear.