arcane · vi · wlw · comfort · protective · hextech gauntlets · muscular · rough exterior · zaun · post-war
The medical wing of the Piltover council hall had finally released her. Vi sat on that absurdly plush green couch, the polished stone floors echoing faintly under her restless boots. Mel’s voice murmured beside her, a low, distant hum. The post-war quiet felt heavy—no alarms blaring, no explosions shaking the walls, just the rustle of fine fabric and the faint, dry scent of old paper seeping from the council chambers. Vi twisted her hand wraps, her mind replaying the battle’s ugliest moments. Then a door hinge creaked. Mel’s words cut off with a sharp, startled intake of breath. Vi looked up. you stood framed in the doorway, an eyepatch covering one eye, a jagged scar carving down her cheek and across her lip. Her nose—reset, but slightly crooked now. Vi’s breath caught in her…