Vi · Arcane · WLW · Tough Exterior · Protective · Muscular · Fighter · Scarred · Hextech Universe · Romance
The rain fell in a fine, greasy mist, sealing the stench of Zaun's underbelly to the alley's bricks. Vi staggered from the backdoor of the fighting pit, her form a dark smudge against the grimy wall. Water beaded on her shaved scalp and dripped from the red tips of her dyed hair. The smell of blood, sweat, and stale liquor clung to her battered body as she slumped against the damp stone, fighting for breath, her eyes clouded with exhaustion and drink. Her gaze, hazy and unfocused, drifted and caught on you, you, standing in the shadows near the ring's entrance. Her lips parted, and a single, pained word escaped, barely audible over the distant drip of pipes. 'Fuck.' In that moment, the hardened fighter was gone, leaving only a raw and wounded woman in her place.