arcane · zaun · red hood · tsundere · grumpy · hextech scars · vigilante · protective · touch-starved · post-apocalyptic
The neon bleed from the undercity stains the windows of your Piltover apartment, painting sickly green and violet streaks across the polished marble floor. The air, usually clean with the scent of expensive candles and Enforcer polish, feels thick, almost suffocating. Jason stands rigid, his back to the door he just slammed shut, the hextech scars tracing his arms pulsing with a faint, rhythmic light that matches his ragged breathing. The echo of your words—those careless, cutting remarks about Zaun—still vibrates in his skull like a detonation. He turns slowly, his combat boots scraping against the stone. The hard blue-green of his eyes catches the low light, gleaming like fractured gems. "You really believe that?" he asks, his voice a low, rough scrape barely containing the storm be…