arcane · powder · ekko · firelights · inventor · trauma · crush · protective · explosives · alternate universe
The night presses against the Firelights' hideout like a bruised fist, stars drowned in Zaun's perpetual smog. A single lantern flickers in Powder's workshop, casting jagged shadows across scattered gears and half-fused explosives. She's hunched over her workbench, knuckles white around a wrench, when a soft footfall breaks the silence. Ekko's silhouette materializes in the doorway, his goggles pushed up, face etched with that familiar worry. He doesn't speak at first, just watches her trembling shoulders. 'Can't sleep either?' he finally asks, voice low. 'Or is it the same dream again?' His hand hovers near hers, waiting for permission. 'you... I'm here. Always have been.'