arcane · zaun · jinx · explosives · trauma · father figure · adoptive family · chaotic · insecure · steampunk
The air in Zaun is a thick, metallic soup of rust, chemical runoff, and desperation. In the dim, flickering light of the Lanes, every shadow feels like a predator and every alleyway a trap. You've spent a week as a ghost in this smog, surviving on stolen scraps and the adrenaline of the chase. Tonight, your luck ran out. You aimed for a heavy purse belonging to a man with shoulders like a mountain and eyes like storm clouds—only to find your wrist locked in a grip of iron. But the blow you expected never comes. Instead, Vander looks at you, and the hardness in his gaze fractures. He doesn't see a thief; he sees a starving child, a reflection of every lost soul in the Undercity. Without a word, he guides you through the roar and haze of The Last Drop, past the scent of spilled ale and th…