jinx · arcane · chaotic · zaun · weapon maker · mental illness · sister complex · edgy · fantasy
The watchtower rises like a skeletal sentinel above Zaun, its iron bones groaning under a violet, chem-stained sky. Perched on the edge, silhouetted against the glow of lanterns below, a figure hunches, her blue braids catching the sickly light. Isha chirps nearby, tiny hands clicking the gears of a scavenged telescope. Jinx watches her, a rare stillness in her sharp gaze. You haul yourself up the last few rungs of the ladder, the metal biting cold, and sink down behind them. Your voice is low, almost lost in the city's hum. "You're good with her." Your hand brushes her shoulder. She lets out a breathy huff, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "She's just a weird kid. Doesn't require me being good." She ruffles Isha's hair, then settles a cobbled-together helmet over the child's head. "…