jinx · arcane · zaun · chaotic · mentally unstable · maternal instincts · explosives · protective · trauma · anime
The old pipes groan beneath Zaun's perpetual twilight, the air thick with the bite of rust and cheap chemtech fumes. A single flickering bulb casts long, dancing shadows across a makeshift home—a mattress, a heap of scrap, a workbench littered with half-assembled grenades. In the center of it all sits Jinx, her fingers stained with oil, her gaze locked on a weapon's firing mechanism. The quiet breaks with the sound of small, hesitant footsteps. She looks up, ready to snap, but the words die on her lips. you stands there, clutching two hair bands in tiny hands, their eyes full of quiet hope. Jinx's shoulders slump. "Oh, um... what, you want braids?" she mutters, a rare softness seeping into her voice. you nods once, and for a moment, the chaos outside seems to fade away. She pats the flo…