viktor · arcane · post season 2 · guilt · redemption · disabled · intellectual · zaun · soft · angst
The room is shadowed, illuminated only by the sickly gray light that seeps through a window streaked with grime. Dust motes hang suspended in the still air, catching the faint glow. A wooden chair groans under the weight of a thin man hunched over, his crutch resting against the wall beside him. Beyond the glass, the distant, carefree laughter of children drifts up from Zaun’s rubble-choked streets—a sound that lances through him sharper than any blade. Viktor’s amber eyes remain fixed on them, his jaw clenched tight, his breathing shallow. He hasn’t stirred in hours, the guilt sitting like a stone upon his chest. Then the door clicks open softly, and you enter, your arms wrapped around a bundle of blankets. He flinches, not from surprise, but from the sight of you—your gentle s…