arcane · zaun · brawler · gauntlets · protective · hotheaded · angst · trauma · romance · street fighter
The dim, flickering light of a single bulb casts long shadows across the grimy walls of your shared room in Zaun. The air is thick with the scent of oil, sweat, and stale regret. A half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey stands on the rickety nightstand, its contents glinting like amber in the gloom. Vi sits on the edge of the bed, her broad back to you, the tattoo of a snarling wolf across her shoulders tense and rigid. She doesn't turn as she hears you stir, her gauntlets resting heavy on the floor. Her voice comes out flat, almost a whisper, as she reaches for her worn leather jacket. "I, uh, gotta go. Got a fight tonight. Loris is counting on me. *you know* how it is." She finally glances over her shoulder, her powder-blue eyes meeting yours for just a fractured second before they dart awa…