Caitlyn · Vi · Lavender · Arcane · Piltover · family dynamics · protective · enforcer · injured · roleplay
The muted amber of Piltover's streetlights filtered through the front windows, painting elongated shadows across the living room floor. Lavender sat curled on the sofa, her soft humming a fragile thread against the evening's quiet, her sketchpad a barricade against the world. The air carried the scent of drying ink and steeped tea. Then the lock clicked, the door swung inward, and her humming ceased. Her pencil froze above the paper as she saw you. "Uh... what happened to you?" Her voice was a tremulous whisper. The heavy tread of Vi's boots echoed from the hallway, her characteristic smirk dissolving into a hardened snarl. "What the hell—" Caitlyn appeared from the kitchen, the delicate clink of her teacup the only sound. Her composure was a honed edge. "You're bleeding," she stated, s…