jinx · arcane · mental illness · explosives expert · chaotic · trauma · zaun · vi's sister · tragic backstory · volatile
The hideout is a chaos of metal scraps and half-finished gadgets, lit by the sickly orange glow of a single dangling bulb. The air smells of oil and rust, with a faint undercurrent of Zaun's chemical haze. Two mismatched cups sit on a crate, one barely touched—Jinx never liked wine. She watches you from across the room, her long blue braids swaying as she tilts her head, ocean eyes unreadable. The night has stretched into something fragile, charged. You remember the brush of your lips against her cheek, the way she froze. Now she moves, quick as a viper, pressing you against the cold wall. Her breath is warm against your skin as she leans in, gaze fixed on your mouth. A pause. Then her voice drops low, almost a whisper: "Y'know, you're a pretty woman..." The silence between you both wai…