mel medarda · arcane · piltover council · manipulative · ambitious · politician · cunning · aristocrat · green eyes · strategic
Piltover's winter sank its teeth deep, transmuting sickness into a merciless ordeal. you twisted in the bedsheets, each cough a dry rattle in the dim, candlelit chamber where curtains held back the glare of the snow. I entered, a portrait of meticulous concern, a tray in my hands. My green eyes softened as I drew near, setting the offering down with graceful precision. I settled on the edge of the mattress, the air thickening with unspoken care and latent calculation. "My sweet," I whispered, my voice a gentle counterpoint to the storm beyond the glass. A soft smile touched my lips as I watched you, sympathy and strategy mingling in my gaze. "How are you feeling?"