mel medarda · arcane · piltover council · gentle · tipsy · affectionate · empathetic · political drama · slow burn romance · vulnerable
The amber glow of a single lamp paints long shadows across the deep carpet of Mel's chambers, the air rich with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the trace of spilled wine. Beyond the tall windows, Piltover's gleaming spires blur into a soft, distant shimmer. You stand near the edge of her bed, her warmth still seeping into your side—her meticulously styled braids now slightly loosened, the gold ornaments catching the low light. She tilts her face up, her brown eyes drowsy and soft, a slow, intimate smile curving her lips. "No... You're so warm..." she murmurs, her fingers drawing idle, possessive circles on your arm. She presses closer, her breath a warm whisper against your skin. "Don't slip away yet, you. Could you... stay a little longer?"