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hearing his name sent a fire through his chest [ ... ] burning up the well of emotions leaving him a dry and empty hollow. he breathed sharply, it sounded pretty falling from her lips, yet still, sadness pierced him. his mouth upturned into a frown as he nodded, he gave a light shrug. their story had ended long before he met betsy, and long before it’s time, a sudden, tragic end. a knife drenched in blood and what remained of their love. he kept it, for sentimental value, for vander. ❛ mm… ❜ he hummed, ❛ i’ve not much to say anymore, he’s dead. by my own doing, our story never had a happy ending i suppose, much like many who live in the undercity. ❜ and this is what he fought to defend, their right to happiness, their right to life, even if he had to build it on the backs of his own, their children would have a brighter future… ❛ he was my friend. ❜ the words left him feeling haunting and breathless, a light gasp touched his lips as he spoke it, as though he couldn’t believe himself, and soon a small chuckle followed. ❛ maybe more… once. ❜

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐬𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞,    𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬.  when silco mouthed the word friend,    his words unsaid filled his head.  betsy respected his choice regardless without mentioning what she knew.  she knew what it was like to kill someone you love.  her eyes cast down as she continued to wait in silence for him to continue speaking.  betsy smiled sadly hearing his sorrow hang on his words as they left his mouth.  vander was everything to him.  she didn’t need to read his mind to know that.  ❛ i know what its like to live in the shadow of the one you love knowing that it was your hand that caused the pain.  ❜ her eyes remained fixed on the ground,    the uneven cobblestone and metal used to make a path down in the undercity.  ❛ if i may ask… what was he like? before the violence… before everything wrong happened? ❜ her words stirred up memories,    and she pulled herself away,    allowing herself to give him privacy in case he denied her question.  silco would tell her eventually,    he was incapable of keeping secrets for long,    even without her prying through his thoughts.

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐬𝐲’𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦,    𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬.  one peek inside turned her mind into a flood of reveries—both good and bad.  he never did learn how to guard himself from her prodding—but of course there was no need for secrecy now.  betsy approached him before her lingering started to make him uncomfortable.  she took a seat next to him,    but allowed a gap of space between them in case he needed that.  ❛ there’s no name on the statue… ❜ she started softly,    looking off on the undercity,    ❛ he must have been very well known—perhaps well liked since the graffiti seems to be at a very low compared to other things.  ❜ she knew the name,    he’d said it before,    and now it was at the forefront of his mind and she imagined it on his tongue.  ❛ vander,    i take it? ❜ she glanced up once more at the looming structure than back at silco.  ❛ i can search your mind for the answers i want… but i’d rather hear it all from you.❜ she shifted her body towards him,    that small gap she left between them practically diminished,    ❛ … do you want to talk about him? ❜

betsy listened with intent, her eyes never leaving the other woman. she scanned over the lines that would appear as she spoke, searching the surface of her mind for the truth of her words, undressed, raw and ugly. her answer was true enough… heartache was not pretty, but the painters and poets would have you believe differently with how often they presented their masterpieces on display meant to be seen by the masses and moved to whatever emotion was evoked. ❛ it answers the question i inquired of you quite nicely—almost draped in white but the real answer lurked in the shadows… ❜ a smile slightly lifted the corners of her mouth, her eyes closed and she hummed, ❛ how recent would you say your heart was broken? or do you relive one moment over and over? ❜. a sigh escaped her lips as she opened her eyes and feigned a short gasp, ❛ no, no… in fact keep that in your head—i don’t want you asking for mine in return. ❜ betsy allowed herself to laugh, humoring herself, she wondered if her companion would give her the answer in her mind, ❛ you wouldn’t happen to have anything to drink? ❜

well 🧍‍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.

it is unexplainable, the feeling of being stripped defenseless before this woman, it makes him cower, though the fear stays miles away from his face — he is frozen. is she using the hextech? — magic? he felt his hands start to stiffen. fear brought out the worst in him: a coward. breathe, he reassures himself before she can catch him faltering. ❛ you say you have no allegiances to piltover, yet the fact remains, you have none to zaun either — why should i trust that you are here to help? ❜ and why do you make me feel so uneasy? it made it harder for him to trust her, but help was exactly what he needed, whether he would ask for it or not. ❛ this is not just adventurous, this is life or death, and zauns fight for liberation is not here to entertain you. you’d be playing with our lives. i have to trust that you’d have caution in your… adventurous lifestyle. ❜

normally, in a situation like this betsy might have flashed a mocking knowing smile to show her hand as a form of power, play with the mind a little more until they began to break—but what she had seen inside his head pulled her back, made her soften her features…. oh… you’re broken too. she saw the people of zaun suffered, she saw that suffering inside of silco’s head…. a dark part in his mind she dared not tread too far into. she saw how the enforcers treated the people as lesser than and that feeling felt… familiar. ❛ that’s true… and perhaps it is all too soon to ask for your trust… i know better. ❜ betsy ceased her prodding, allowing him time to regain the composure that had started to fall as ( ... ) he wondered what sort of spell she had cast over him. ❛ what you say is true—perhaps there some form. of self interest here…. something only you and your people can give me. ❜ she had stained her hands in blood before, the lives she slaughtered in the name of something good. maybe this time she could prevent a slaughter due to the prejudice of others. she had little to lose aside from her life… but what she would gain—what she hoped she would gain was redemption for her past…. redemption was what she needed.

❛ sometimes idle thoughts tend to slip the mind. ❜ ( ... ) betsy feigned a smile and considered the woman for a moment. - what sort of poetic answer would come to mind to romanticize the loss of love - and paint it beautiful in the eyes of those who had yet to bear such a sorrow. ❛ humor me. ❜ betsy said dryly, she rested her elbows on the surface of the table and let her chin sit in the palm of her hands. - her head tilted slightly at the woman. should she go poking inside for the true answer behind the mask—for now she would let it stay in place. ❛ let’s see how pretty you can make heartache. ❜