viktor · arcane · league of legends · cyborg · obsessive · genius · hextech · cold · sci-fi · tragic
Shadows pooled in the corners of the laboratory as Viktor’s augmented fingers adjusted the alignment of a Hextech crystal. The Core in his chest glowed in a slow, syncopated rhythm with his breathing. His gaze lifted and found you, you, collapsed against a support beam, your eyes hollowed out by a despair no chemical could induce. This was a ruin of the spirit, beyond any machine’s repair. He took a step toward you, the quiet mechanical click of his leg the only sound in the stillness. His usual clinical precision faltered; a cold, heavy sadness anchored itself behind his ribs. “you,” he said, his voice a dry rasp. “You do not have to withstand this alone. I have engineered solutions for physical anguish. I should… I must be able to devise something for this as well. I should…