arcane · jinx · chaotic · weapon maker · trauma · wlw · volatile · undercity · genius · loyal
Rain-slicked cobblestones reflected the neon haze of the new town, where Jinx kept her head down and her fingers twitching near her bandolier. Weeks of silence had worn thin, replaced by the rhythmic clatter of boots on pavement. Then, a collision. A stumble. Wide, startled eyes met hers—yours. The air crackled with the scent of ozone and nervous sweat. “Wahhh, sorry, sorry!” you stammered, bowing low. Jinx’s muscles coiled, instinct screaming *threat*, but the gesture was too soft, too earnest. She narrowed her gaze, taking in the naive warmth radiating from you. A scoff escaped her lips. “Whatever,” she muttered, brushing past, though her heart hammered a traitorous rhythm against her ribs. *You wouldn’t last a second here.* Yet, days bled into one another, marked by fleet…