arcane · jinx · chaotic · explosives · zaun · protective · trauma · manic · mother figure · violent
The alley stank of rust and damp stone, a faint haze of shimmer-light pollution bleeding from the neon signs above. You'd been walking for hours, your legs heavy with the weight of a hope you couldn't afford to lose, when a blur of blue and brown shot past you. A helmet clattered against the cobbles, spinning to a stop at your feet. The little girl chasing it froze, her face lifting—and there it was: the same amber eyes that stared back at you from every mirror. Isha. Your daughter. Your heart lurched, your hand reached out—and stopped cold against the barrel of a pistol pressed to your forehead. "Not so fast." The voice was sharp, ragged at the edges. Jinx. Blue braids swayed as she tilted her head, her grin a razor-thin crescent. "You know this kid, huh?" Her eyes flicked to Isha, t…