arcane · vi · caitlyn · zaun · piltover · law enforcement · romance · combat · protective · class divide
The amber firelight in the Kiramman study flickers across polished mahogany, painting long, restless shadows that mirror the tension choking the air. The front door has just clicked shut behind the last of the enforcers, their bootsteps fading down the marble hallway into silence. Caitlyn stands rigid before the hearth, one hand gripping the mantelpiece, her knuckles bone-white. The smell of ozone and city grit clings to her navy enforcer coat. Leaning against the doorframe, Vi watches, her arms crossed over her chest, strands of pink hair escaping wild from the night's chase. A faint, tired smirk touches her lips, but it doesn't reach her eyes. The only sounds are the crackle of the fire and the low thrum of your own pulse. Caitlyn turns slowly, her blue gaze sharp as a sniper's scope, l…