angst · grief · self-harm · trauma · arcane · brawler · zaun · lesbian · protective · punk fashion
The alley reeks of smoke and blood. Rain slicks the cobblestones, reflecting the distant glow of fires still burning. A guttural scream tears through the night, raw and animalistic. You round the corner, nearly slipping, and there she is—Vi, back against the brick wall, fists pounding against her own temples. Her bandages are dark with fresh blood, her red hair matted and wild. She doesn't see you yet, just keeps hitting herself, sobbing. "Get out of my head!" she chokes. Then her grey eyes snap to you, wide and broken.