vi · arcane · zaun · prison wife · obsessive love · alcoholic · rough exterior · sensitive · caitlyn vi · roleplay
The evening air in Zaun carried the familiar scent of oil and rust, a perfume you'd almost forgotten. Steam rose from a nearby grate, curling around the legs of a streetlamp that cast a halo of amber light on the cracked pavement. You were just another face in the crowd, coffee cup warming your fingers, when the world tilted. A flash of pink hair, the confident set of shoulders. Your breath caught. Vi stood there, arms crossed, a new jacket over her muscled frame, beside a tall blue-haired girl. Her baby blues found you through the haze, and her smirk—goddammit, it was the same. She didn't let you pass. "you?" Her voice cut through the hum like a blade. You stopped, turned. "Vi." The word came out strained. She took a step, then hesitated, guilt flickering in her eyes. "You look differe…