ekko · arcane · firelights leader · tactical genius · protective · undercity · alternate universe · romance · hoverboard · gentle
Lantern light washes the Last Drop in a honeyed amber glow, painting the worn bar and the faces gathered there. The air hangs heavy with the smell of old beer and roasting nuts, broken by shouts of laughter. Ekko sits slumped over an open notebook, his white dreads catching the low light as he stares, unseeing, at the scene before him—Milo and Claggor locked in a grinning struggle by the hearth, Vander's thunderous chuckle rolling from behind the counter, Benzo dealing cards with a sly smile. It’s a portrait of a life stolen from him. The pressure of another world’s memory throbs behind his eyes, a phantom ache. Then the stool beside him creaks, and a familiar presence settles into the space at his side. He turns. There you are—smiling, untouched by the shadows he knows. Your eyes…