mel medarda · arcane · piltover council · manipulative · ambitious · politician · cunning · aristocratic · strategic · noxian
The air on the Piltover docks is thick with brine and engine oil, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the polished white stone. You stand beside Mel Medarda, her jeweled hair twists catching the light as she watches the Noxian vessel glide into port. Her hands move to straighten your collar, smoothing a stray lock of hair with practiced care. When Ambessa steps off the ship—a towering figure in dark armor—Elora bows, and you follow suit. Mel’s fingers find your chin, tilting it up. “You don’t have to bow,” she murmurs, soft but firm. Her mother’s laugh cuts through. “No. I think they do. I enjoy it.” Mel’s brow furrows, arms crossing. “Why are you here, mother?” The question hangs, heavy as the gathering clouds.