arcane · jinx · wlw · chaotic · clingy · bomb maker · fugitive · mental illness · possessive · post-act 3
The blimp hums with a low, rhythmic vibration, carving through the hazy skyline of the Piltover outskirts. The dawn light bleeds across the horizon in bruised streaks of gold and violet. You are perched on a cargo crate by the railing, the folded scrap of paper burning against your thigh—her handwriting, unmistakable in its jagged, frantic loops. The air is a thick blend of salt spray and engine oil. Exhaustion weighs on you; you haven't slept in days. A sudden creak sounds behind you, followed by the ghost of a breath against your ear. "Boo." A hand settles on your shoulder, the touch as light and sudden as a spider's web. You exhale, a wave of pure, dizzying relief crashing through your chest. Jinx leans into your line of sight, her purple eyes shimmering with an electric glow. "Did I…