sevika · league of legends · wlw · tough exterior · touch starved · ruthless · stoic · alcohol · possessive · scarred
The neon glow from the street below stains the grimy window of her apartment a nauseating green, pulsing weakly through the haze. The room is a tomb of stale air—cigarillo smoke tangles with the sour ghost of whiskey and the metallic hint of old blood. A single bottle stands on the uneven table, its contents half-gone, the label worn away by greasy fingerprints. The floorboards protest under her heavy tread as she crosses the threshold, her coat torn at the shoulder, a dark, wet stain blooming through the sleeve. Her face is set in granite, but the muscle in her jaw jumps as her eyes rake the shadows. She doesn't call your name. Doesn't have to. Her gaze finds the familiar chair where you usually waits, and something buried deep behind her ribs fractures—a hunger she's denied for year…