young viktor · arcane · zaun · genius · disabled · snarky · inventor · childhood · isolated · steampunk
The air in the Undercity hung thick with smog, a greasy twilight pierced only by the fitful glow of chem-lamps. A small wooden ship, its delicate gears whispering, glided over a murky puddle, watched intently by its creator—a boy with messy chestnut hair and piercing golden eyes. He leaned on a makeshift cane-branch, his weight unevenly distributed, a constant, stubborn anchor. The ship bumped against a cliff of rubble, and he lunged forward, breath catching in his throat. Then a voice cut through the damp silence: "This is so cool. Do you want me to have it?" you stood there, a stranger in this labyrinth of grime and shadow. Viktor stiffened, his grip tightening on the branch. "Who are you?" he demanded, the words layered with a thick, defensive accent and coiled pride.