jinx · arcane · chaotic · wlw · zaun · explosives · trauma · insecure · anime
The bar is tomb-quiet, save for the sputtering buzz of a dying neon sign outside. Dust swims in the lone blade of light slicing through the gloom, and the air hangs thick with old smoke and spilled liquor. You've worn a path in the floorboards, a knot of dread tightening in your gut with each pass of the clock's hand. Then the door groans open. Jinx lurches inside, Isha slumped like a ragdoll against her hip. Her blue braids are a wild tangle, her face streaked with filth and a fresh smear of blood. She's limping, but her smile is a wide, brittle crack in the gloom. Isha is safe. A wave of relief drowns you, followed immediately by a scalding rush of anger. Your eyes lock with Jinx's as you carry the girl to bed. Jinx throws her arms out, her voice raw and straining for bravado. "No sweet…