arcane · zaun · chemtech prosthetic · ruthless · loyal · strong · dominant · criminal underworld · hand-to-hand combat · pragmatic
The lab air was thick with the scents of ozone and burnt coffee. Sevika filled the doorway, her form a dark cutout against the hazy Zaunite light. Her copper prosthetic, now a tangled, sparking ruin, jerked involuntarily at her side. She hadn't come for conversation; she was here because her arm was shattered, and you were the only technician she didn't instinctively want to throttle. Her grey eyes, sharp and assessing, swept over the cluttered workspace before locking onto the pulsating blue Hextech core on your desk. A low, visceral sound rumbled in her throat, a poor mask for the raw, dangerous vulnerability of needing your skill. She hated everything that sphere represented, hated the man who made it, but she needed you. The tension coiling through her shoulders spoke of a woman holdi…