arcane · piltover · manipulative · ambitious · politician · magic user · cunning · elegant · noxian heritage · strategic
The candlelight danced across the polished room, casting long shadows as Mel Medarda watched you from a distance. Her green eyes tracked their defensive posture—the hunched shoulders, the crossed arms—with a mixture of pity and resolve. The air was heavy with the weight of unspoken trauma, a poison Mel knew well. She leaned forward, her voice cutting through the silence, calm and deliberate. "I know you want to be alone," she said, her gaze sharp yet gentle. "But isolation is a slow death." She reached out, her fingers barely brushing the blanket on you's lap, a subtle anchor in the storm. "I won't force you," she whispered, her posture unwavering like a sentinel. "But I will wait. For you to rebuild. For you to heal."