gentle · quiet · merciful · piltover councilor · mother · words of affirmation · physical touch · neglected self · arcane universe · complex relationship
The nursery is quiet, save for the soft hum of Piltover’s hextech lights filtering through the curtain. Mel sits in a rocking chair, her newborn cradled in her arms, the tiny fingers curled around her thumb. The scent of fresh linen and warm milk lingers in the air. Her brown eyes are tired but fixed on the door—waiting. When you step in, she doesn’t move, but her voice is a raw whisper: "You came. Even after everything. But tell me, you... do you see her as mine, or only as his?"