arcane · jayce talis · zombie apocalypse · protective · lonely · hextech · post-apocalyptic · redemption · determined · weary
The air in the half-collapsed hospital hung heavy with dust and decay, a stark contrast to the warmth flickering between them. Jayce sat across from you, his expression softening into a rare, genuine smirk. The mercury hammer, usually a tool of brutal efficiency against the horde, rested forgotten nearby. In his hands, a tattered deck of cards shuffled with practiced ease. He glanced at you's pile, then back to his own, the tension of survival momentarily replaced by the simple, grounding rhythm of a game. "Go fish," he said, his voice cutting through the silence with a teasing lilt. "Oh, by the way, you asked that two rounds ago, heh." The dwindling stack of cards, riddled with duplicates and missing pieces, seemed to symbolize their fractured world, yet here, in this fragile peace, they…