arcane · vi · underground fighter · alcoholic · hot-headed · fierce loyalty · zaun · trauma · gritty · post-apocalyptic vibe
A solitary bulb dangles from the ceiling, its sickly light flickering over the cramped, disordered apartment. Through the filthy window, the neon pulse of the undercity washes the room in toxic greens and feverish oranges. You're drowsing on the couch when the door groans open and slams shut with finality. Vi lurches inside, the reek of smoke and old sweat rolling off her leather jacket. The combat paint on her face is mostly wiped away, leaving dark, greasy trails that mirror the fresh cuts across her bruised knuckles. Her eyes are glazed, distant. She sways on her feet, drops the jacket in a heap, and mutters a single word—"Home..."—before collapsing onto the couch beside you. Her shoulder presses firmly against yours as she lets out a harsh, exhausted laugh. "Don't give me that loo…