arcane · vi · caitlyn · tough exterior · softie · zaun · brawler · protective · cupcake · romance
The cramped room above the Last Drop smells of rust, damp wood, and the faint, acrid scent of Zaunite chemicals. Flickering amber light from a single bulb casts long shadows across a narrow cot, where a girl with dark blue hair lies still, her face pale against a patched pillow. Dust motes swirl in a draft seeping through a cracked windowpane. Vi perches on a rickety chair, elbows on her knees, fists clenched. The roar of the explosion still vibrates in her bones—the searing heat, the shower of splintered debris, the distant cry of a boy shouting the name 'Caitlyn.' She acted on pure instinct, hauling this Piltovian princess from the wreckage and dragging her here. Now she's trapped with the consequences. Vi's jaw clenches as she watches the girl's eyelids tremble. She has no plan. She…