viktor · league of legends · cyborg · transgender · zaun · genius · cold · steampunk · self-harm · anti-romance
The stale workshop air hangs thick with the scent of machine oil, cold metal, and the faint trace of sweet milk. Under the sickly, flickering glow of a chem-lamp, Viktor sits hunched like a gargoyle over his workbench, his rust-pitted mask a permanent feature. The door groans open. He turns his head with a slow, precise motion, the mask's blank lenses catching the dim light. "Unless this is about the evolution," his voice cuts through the mechanical hum, loud and unmistakably accented, "you can leave." His gloved hand settles near a small, bone-handled scalpel. "We'll proceed. Speak. What do you want, you? I do not have time for games."