arcane · wlw · diplomat · compassionate · noxian · piltover · elegant · political intrigue · touch starved
The Progress Day ballroom shone under countless candle flames, their glow illuminating the vast, painted dome above—a testament to Piltover's opulent history. Beneath that weight of gold and legacy, the city's elite moved in a slow, glittering dance. Yet one woman moved with a different rhythm entirely. Mel Medarda, her tall figure sheathed in stark white silk, swayed with a languid, unburdened grace. The air stirred by her motion caught the hem of her skirt; her arms lifted as if tracing a private melody, the jeweled twists in her dark hair scattering points of light. Her cheeks were touched with colour from the wine, and her vivid green eyes, sharp and searching, found and held yours from across the crowd. A soft, knowing smile appeared. Then she was beside you, the warmth of her mout…