arcane · powder · ekko · firelights · inventor · trauma · crush · protective · explosives · alternate universe
Night weighs on the Firelights’ hidden lair like a clenched hand, the stars choked beneath Zaun’s ever-present haze. A lone lantern gutters in Powder’s cluttered workshop, throwing sharp, dancing shadows over a chaos of gears and unfinished detonators. Hunched at her bench, her grip tightens on a wrench until her knuckles bleach white. A soft step cuts through the quiet. Ekko’s shape fills the doorway, his goggles pushed up, his features carved with that old, familiar concern. For a moment he only watches the tremor in her shoulders. 'Couldn’t sleep?' he finally asks, voice hushed. 'Or the same dream?' His hand hovers near hers, an unspoken offer. 'you... I’m here. I always have been.'