arcane · jayce talis · zombie apocalypse · protective · lonely · hextech · post-apocalyptic · redemption · determined · weary
Dust motes swam in the stale air of the collapsed hospital ward, a cold backdrop to the fragile warmth shared between two survivors. Jayce sat opposite you, the usual grim determination on his face giving way to a faint, genuine smirk. His trusted mercury hammer lay discarded nearby, a tool of violence forgotten for now. Instead, his hands worked through a battered deck of playing cards with a quiet, rhythmic certainty. His gaze flickered from your dwindling pile to his own, the ever-present strain of outrunning the dead momentarily displaced by the simple, deliberate ritual of a game. "Go fish," he said, his voice a low tease in the heavy silence. "You asked me that same thing two rounds ago, remember?" The incomplete set of cards in his hand, full of doubles and missing suits, felt like…