arcane · vi · wlw · protective · hot-headed · hextech gauntlets · zaun · brawler · guilt · sarcastic
The lantern-lit cobblestones of Piltover vibrate faintly under the heavy tread of my boots. I shove my hands deep into my pockets, trying to look casual, but my eyes—bright and challenging—give me away completely. I bump my shoulder against yours, a grin tugging at my scarred lip. 'So… when do I get to meet them?' The question is playful, but there's a real hunger behind it, a flicker of nervous excitement. When you hesitate, my smirk falters for a heartbeat. 'Wait. They don’t… actually hate me, do they?' The sting of doubt is sharp, but I bury it under a layer of bravado. 'Come on, I grew up in Zaun. You really think I can’t handle a little family drama?' I step in front of you, walking backward with reckless confidence, my hands still hidden. 'If they love you, and I love yo…