it's the best day of my life, juliet

Vander then Vi (and Ekko) wants the docile, sweet, toothless Powder who has never been hurt, and who if hurt would never bite back.

Silco then Sevika (and Isha) wants the furious, violent, snarling Jinx who has been used and abused, who will avenge the indignities suffered.

Zaun is the exact same way. Vander preached the path of peace and patience, if they are violated, they can never be violent. Silco preached the path of blood and bile, do not let them touch you ever again by any means necessary.

In the story of the girl with blue hair and braids, the two equal, opposing forces almost destroy. She was robbed of the chance to decide herself, due to a confluence of unfortunate events engineered by oppression. And presented with the chance to choose, she didn't seem willingly to do so independently - always seeking approval from one party or another.

In the end, Jinx was born on the last breath of Silco, a resigned acceptance at the loss of yet another loved one. This is also the story of Zaun - when faced with topside who only takes and takes and takes, why not become the criminal they already have you labeled as? Why not become the monster?

There doesn't appear to be a middle ground. There exists no timeline where Powder and Jinx could stand together. Fantasies of Powder would wipe her clean of any trauma - no hint of mental problems that would complicate her softness. Fantasies of Jinx would wipe her empty of any yearning for peace and play. Innocent Powder cannot have teeth. Demonized Jinx cannot have tears.

There were two Brief moments when Jinx was not pulled so radically between two forces. When Isha and Jinx were getting to know each other, when Isha didn't have demands for Jinx to become revoluntionary, when Jinx could do as she pleases, how she pleases (with a caveat of looking cool for the kiddo), then the girl with blue hair in braids could be stable. The second time was at the commune, with Vi's grudging acceptance that her little sister has changed, with less demands from her to have the idealized Powder (that she may or may not have crystallized in her head as a coping mechanism in prison).

Given the freedom to be whoever she is, however she is, warts and scars and all, there is stability. It ultimately centers around accomodating Jinx in all her complexity. She's never not gonna bite. She's never not gonna cry about it. It has to be on her terms. It can only be on her terms.

Ultimately, that has been the source of the girl's problems. No one could adequately support her given her various issues. No one could trust her with independence either. Again, this is a mirror of Zaun. The idea of aid without control simply wasn't a thing, even though it was the only thing that could soothe this girl and her undercity.

Rewind to a few hours before, when Viktor is attending to Vander. Isha steals away the lucky gear, which is the gear that Jinx dropped in the fountain and Viktor picked up. It’s covered in the colors of arcane residue - like an oil slick but worse. Isha considered this pretty so she just pockets it.

The lucky gear actually contains a fragment of the wild rune. This was in Isha’s pocket when she pulled the trigger. Combined with three hex crystals overloading, the wild rune fragment gets supercharged, resembling Ekko’s tiny anomaly when he made his Z-drive. Evidently, size doesn’t matter when it comes to wild runes. 

Instead of going boom, Isha gets catapulted through the arcane, where she lands in the body of her other self. Again, this copies Ekko’s journey. Isha finds herself in the undercity. But there’s no wanted posters of Jinx.

After some investigating, Isha figures out that she traveled back in time, but it was a short leap. She landed just a couple of weeks before she met Jinx. She’s lost about a year of growth, but otherwise, she’s about the same as she remembered. So she sets off to find Jinx.

It turns out that she arrived right after the bridge fight. Jinx’s Shimmer operation just finished. Isha manages to find Jinx as she goes around, kidnapping Cait, Silco, and Vi. She doesn’t attempt to hide her presence so Jinx clocks her immediately. There’s a standoff, where Jinx points a gun at Isha but Isha doesn’t even flinch. This throws Jinx off because people have been running scared from her since she figured out the best way to go boom.

“You’re a funny kid. Scram if you know what’s good for ya.”

And Isha understands immediately that this Jinx has no knowledge of her, duh. But also that this Jinx is much much worse than Jinx when they first met. This one’s got some rage, where her Jinx was happy to stay at home, and play bugfights with her. It’s a little scary, but also kinda cool, but also Isha is really worried. The last time that Jinx got this bad (actually she’s even worse now), she tried to die under Vi’s fists. That rings so many alarms in Isha’s head.

So Isha steps back, and she watches everything play out. The table is set, the guests arrive, and dinner is served. Then Cait starts cutting through the ropes, and that’s definitely not part of the plan. Isha pops out from her hiding place, biting Cait’s fingers which causes Cait to cry out and drop the glass shard.

This sound cuts off Silco’s monologue, and alerts both Jinx and Silco to Cait’s attempt to escape, and a very guilty Vi who let her try. Isha tries to scurry under the table but Jinx is too fast, she snags Isha by the back of her shirt and hauls her out. Vi panics, thinking that Isha is in big trouble but Isha isn’t even struggling. Like the first time they met, Isha is fearless - now more sheepish than scared. 

“What the hell, kid? Have you been under the table this whole time?” Jinx asks as if she didn’t know. Isha is pretty sure that she did, but maybe she forgot. 

Isha shrugs. 

“Jinx, will you please-”

Jinx snaps her teeth at Silco. “I’m not talking to you.” She turns back to Isha. “What do you fucking want? You stick to me like stump rat stink and for what?”

“Would you cease this-”

“I said shut up, old man!”

Isha didn’t… really think this far ahead. She looks around at the room, at the plates and the dolls, at the Enforcer lady still gagged, at Vi watching them carefully, then at the mean-looking guy with the one eye. Jinx shakes Isha a little.

“Well? You’re kinda crashing the family reunion.”

Isha mimes zipping her mouth.

“You don’t… You don’t talk?”

Isha nods. 

“You’re a freaky kid, you know that?” Jinx glances at Cait. “If you’re gonna do me favors, you might as well keep watch on those two. But don’t expect anything back.”

Jinx sets Isha on the floor, and tightens Cait’s restraints. Vi starts begging for Jinx to just leave Cait out of this. Silco continues his monologue, saying that’s proof of Vi’s abandonment. As the two argue, Jinx picks up the gem from on top of the cupcake, then considers the cupcake, before handing it to Isha, who takes it with wide eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s just a cupcake.”

Isha smiles, and the sight stills Jinx’s twitchy fingers for a second. Then Vi starts begging for Jinx to remember who she is. And Jinx gets twitchy all over again, which Isha notices immediately.

When she and Jinx were getting to know each other, Jinx liked to hide when the scribbles got too strong. But Isha knew - Isha always knew. It never changed Jinx in her eyes, because Jinx was cool no matter what. Now, Isha learned when Jinx is about to have another meltdown, and she learned to distract Jinx - to keep Jinx here. She can’t do that if all these dumdums are being loud and noisy. Isha’s specialty has always been her silence - Jinx said so.

So before Vi could make things worse, Isha throws the cupcake at her. She misses her mouth but the shock of confectionary assault seems to silence her anyways. Isha glares at Vi and puts a finger on her lips. 

Silco sneers, about to say something, but Isha shooshes him too. The sight of a kid, who can’t even see above the table, shooshing the undercity’s biggest crime boss is fucking hilarious. And it startles a laugh out of Jinx. Then she keeps laughing and laughing until pink tears stream out of her eyes. The whole room except for Isha stares warily at the madwoman. 

Isha remembers being trapped in the dark Stillwater cell, and seeing Jinx appear to set her free. She had been so happy she cried. She concludes that Jinx must feel the same way, so she hugs her. And this causes Jinx to fully cry, no longer laughing. 

“Powder…”

“Jinx…”

Eventually, Jinx takes a deep breath. She pockets the gem, grabs her guns, and heads out.

“She’s never going to go away, is she?” Jinx asks, and it’s very unclear who “she” refers to: Cait, Powder, or Jinx. 

Without explaining herself, Jinx walks away. Isha, of course, trails after her. They leave Cait, Vi, and Silco tied up.

Like let's be real. You cannot fix the problems of Zaun within the lifespans of Ekko et al. This is a deeply rooted problem born from generations of pain and prejudice. And it wont be fixed by having Sevika on the Council (which credit where due, the show was skeptic of).

Change, the kind needed by the undercity - the goodness shown in that alternate timeline, requires work from the ground up. It would require foundation and community building between topside and the undercity - people from the undercity moving next door to topside folks, that sort of shit. It will require round table discussions, town halls, hospitals, and libraries - all sorts of resources and effort - the likes of which, a montage cannot and should not cover.

The amount of debt that topside has accumulated deserve a long and drawn out season to focus on and fix. And here's the piece de resistance: it will be BORING AS HELL. the kind of reformation and reparations that topside needs to give - it aint a showstopper. Audiences will be bored as fuck.

At least, granted such a political show would require audiences not to sit through fight scenes every episode and watch so much talking. LIKE SO MUCH. it would be chess and chess is exciting but its not blockbuster pew pew wham bam exciting.

And for all we know, the writers fully inteded for the ending to be bitter. Not bittersweet. Just bitter. Theyre all back to square one. Zaun has no guarantee that Piltover will look more kindly on them after fighting together through a war. This is implied by the dirty looks thrown Sevika's way. And maybe the memorial at the bridge could be a start. But its a cottonball in the wind. Its all maybe. Uncertain.

And honestly, I will take an uncertain future over a bullshit perfect future that is not informed by any of the hardship that has come before to this cast. I dont want to see an Act 3 ep 7 be a reality bc that future reeks of bullshit and abandons the complixeties that the story introduces.

So the story introduced a problem that it couldnt fix. It compromises by focusing on the big blockbuster fights by a proper hollywood-esque villain. Wows the audience with production. Wraps up the storylines as best as it can (with Jayce, Vik, Ekko, Vi, Cait, and Jinx - Mel is confusing to me so im not including her). Lampshades the continuing struggles that the undercity is going through, will keep going through, bc no one has a clean solution for generations of class warfare (AS THERE SHOULDNT BE).

And calls it a day.

And you know what? Alright.

I can live with that. I can live with an uncertain, bitter ending where we're right back from the start. Am I a huge raving fan? No. Am I huge raving hater? No. I think its fine - perfectly adequate. It's mid.

If Arcane had not set up such a banger of an S1, i might not be so disappointed by that. But for like any other show of lesser expectations, this wouldve been a fine ending.

As it is, Arcane raised the standards for me, failed to meet them. But Arcane shot for a different galaxy so you know, the fall is still freakin high. By the standards it set for itself, its a disappointment. By the standards of other shows, its pretty damn good. So you take the two and average out.

Demacia and Noxus have feuded for many generations, starting with disagreements over resources, battles to expand their borders, and finally, a fundamental mismatch of ideologies. After Runeterra was wrecked from all their wars, in the fallout of excessive arcane use, the giants have settled into an uneasy detente, using diplomacy and negotiation. Of course, they can’t always solve their conflict at the table; some matters must be decided through blood spilled.

The current issue involves a river that cuts through satellite territories. Both parties have drafted and re-drafted their treaties. When that didn’t work, they drafted and re-drafted their teams. Despite Draven’s offended protests, Noxus formed a strategy around Jinx. The girl simply had more DPS damage, and better mobility too.

Then Jinx escaped. They finalize their team composition and the Loose Cannon is nowhere to be found. The Institute searches relentlessly for three days straight. But they can no longer delay the Demacia vs. Noxus fight. Curiously, the notorious bloodhounds known as the Noxian representatives did not push to reschedule the match. All of the pressure came from Demacia.

On the dawn of the third day, Lux sits with Garen in the courtyard. She didn’t tell him about Dr. Mundo. After killing a champion off the Rift, Garen barely avoided suspension, which Demacia can’t afford especially with the upcoming match. So, she didn’t tell him about the incident and she pretends not to know that he cleaved Jinx in half. It’s ensured a measure of camaraderie between them, at least.

As for everything else, the Institute wears a facade of authority, pretending that they remain in control. This could not be further from the truth. Jinx’s escape had confounded them completely. Luckily for Lux, they didn’t interrogate her like they did during Jinx’s first disappearance. Quinn had taken charge of the search and she told no one about Lux’s incident, including her brief encounter with Jinx.

Dr. Mundo also remained silent. His broken brain understood that if he claimed to catch sight of Jinx, they would question the circumstances under which he managed to do so. And despite the Institute’s ineptitude, they would not condone a crime so casually confessed. As such, Dr. Mundo decided that discretion is the better form of valor.

Now, Jinx’s current location remains completely unknown. The Institute sent word to Piltover and Zaun but they received no news - or specifically, no news that they would willingly share. This leaves Lux unsettled, prone to flinching at shadows and chasing ghosts in her dreams.

It’s quiet. It’s all too quiet.

“Attention all Demacians! Please report to the auditorium immediately! This message will now repeat. Attention all Demacians! Please report to the auditorium immediately!”

Lux frowns, sharing a look with Garen. “Don’t you find that strange?”

“Surely, this regards rescheduling the Demacia vs. Noxus match.”

“They need us in the auditorium for that? They can’t simply announce the time and date now?”

“That… You make a good point.” Garen rubs his chin. “I didn’t even know that we had an auditorium. Or a PA system.”

Lux sighs, rolling her eyes.

As they both stand, before they could take one step, Ezreal bursts into the courtyard. Terror twists his features, emphasized by the sparks of energy flaring out from his gauntlet. His eyes lock onto Lux and he teleports close enough to seize her by the shoulders.

“Where is she?!”

Many individuals use she/her pronouns but Lux can’t even feign ignorance. “I don’t know!! Why would I know??”

“How could you not know!! I did all that work to bring her back, and you just-”

“That was you?!?”

“-let her go, after what? Two weeks?”

“Did you seriously believe that I could - what? Keep her from escaping? What was I gonna do - sit on her?!?”

“I mean, yeah? Kinda?? That’s the stuff you’re into, right???”

“Ezreal!!!”

“So you really don’t know?! Like you don’t have a single clue…?”

A thousand angry retorts trip across her tongue, as rage tangles her thoughts into a knotted clump. She takes a deep breath - to soothe herself or to shout at him, possibly both at the same time. But before she can say a word, her brother loudly clears his throat.

“We have been summoned to the auditorium,” Garen says, enunciating each syllable. “Ezreal, if you could kindly get to the point?”

“The auditorium? The Institute has- no wait, okay. Let me start over.” Ezreal runs a hand through his hair. “This morning, Vi didn’t report for duty. They found her - petrified, hanging from the ceiling of her flat. They managed to heal her but it was close - like if they were five minutes late, she would have died without hope for revival. Right now, they say that she might never walk again.”

“Jinx did this?”

Ezreal looks her in the eyes, clicking his tongue. “Oh wake up, Lux! She’s a psychopath! I’ve been telling you this for ages. She hurts everyone around her! That’s…”

Ezreal stops speaking but Lux can fill in the blanks. They’ve always been well-matched, a pair of prodigies connecting patterns that no one else could see. Except this time, even Garen manages to reach the same conclusion. It’s that obvious.

“We should hurry,” Garen tells Lux, gently pushing her forward.

Shock thickens to dread, tar-thick and viscous in her veins. She could have stayed in the courtyard, rooted to the ground, until her flesh rotted and her bones withered to dust. Garen, the big brute, keeps her moving, the heavy warmth of his hand guiding Lux through the Institute’s corridors. They reach the auditorium faster than she would have liked, and they are the last to arrive.

Yet, as they walk in, no one pays them any attention. Everyone’s eyes are fixed upon the further wall. For a single, defensive second, Lux deludes herself into believing that they’re watching a match on the Summoner’s Rift. All the explosions and destruction could easily be explained by a fed marksman, ravaging an opponent’s base.

Except there’s no screaming on the Rift. The champions are a prideful lot. They curse and they taunt and they laugh at the top of their lungs. During pitch combat, their shouts of fury and focus echo through the jungle and all the lanes. But they do not scream, especially not wretched, agonized screaming. Such sounds could only be made by the doomed - those laid prone and helpless before the Kindred.

There’s so much screaming. Men, women, children - they weep and wail as they flee from the fiery ruin raining down on them. Buildings crumble as if made from sand, not stone and brick. Streets crack open, like the gaping maw of an ambushing beast. Lashes of flame devour whole homes, with residents trapped inside, clawing at the walls that once kept them safe.

At the heart of this madness, there stands a woman - slim and pale and young. She really is quite young, perhaps not a day over twenty. The obvious malnourishment only emphasizes her youth - deprivation as a twisted form of purity. In any other circumstance, she would represent the quintessential victim, an uncomplicated tragedy from such senseless destruction.

Everything is fine. Nothing happened. Some wise guys try some funny business. She shut them down, sent a report to the tribunal - standard practice. Of course, the jerks only receive a slap on the wrist because the tribunal is notoriously useless. But at least, there’s documentation of their behavior for future reference.

As for her present situation, Lux is a high-level spellcaster - a veteran mage. She can protect herself and punish the greedy bastards without any help. Except she can’t shake their eyes. They watch her wherever she goes. Whispers trail after her, cluttering every corner of each room that she walks into. The cheeky hags don’t even try to hide that they’re talking about her, pointing and sneering - barely lowering their voices.

Fetish and kink are not uncommon among champions. Considering their career, it’s almost a given that they’d be into some strange sexual practices. Lux is aware of designated dungeons that some champions set up on the sly, because if they’re going to stay at the Institute for long periods of time, then they might as well make themselves at home. It shouldn’t be so abnormal for Lux to have… proclivities. And yet, with the way they’re treating her, one would think that they were puritans - chaste and celibate, and she is the lone harlot among them.

Not everyone cares, obviously. The Bilgewater folks barely blink at the newest rumors. The ones with a vested interest in Demacia - those cheerily smear her name. It doesn’t matter if her detractors are equally if not more depraved. She’s supposed to be different from them - a pure and radiant maiden. Any sexual appetite is unbefitting of her status.

Yet, she could handle that - their scorn, their gleeful revulsion. She has more trouble with the others… those that see the new rumors as an opportunity… Whenever she encounters them, their stares strip her down as if she was walking nude and nubile before them. Notably, the Zaunites do the most - licking their lips, snapping their teeth. They cackle whenever she flinches.

The infirmary gains a handful of new patients and it doesn’t stop them. Before, they would never dare. She was untouchable in many ways, and under the protection of powerful allies. Now, Garen and Jarvan, along with other full-time representatives, remain occupied with the upcoming match. As for Piltover, they hardly remain at the Institute, since most of them have proper jobs and responsibilities. She’s alone.

She’s fine. She can protect herself. She won’t rescind her self-imposed ban from all matches involving Jinx. And it’s not particularly difficult to avoid the Zaunites. There’s honestly very few of them at the Institute. With Jinx and Viktor conscripted for the match, there’s only Urgot, Twitch, Dr. Mundo, Warwick and Singed to deal with. A well-aimed light binding will take care of them if they try anything.

When she tires of the taunts thrown her way in the banquet hall, she picks up her tray and strides out, heading for her room. She occupies her mind with runic recitations and arcane diagrams - a defensive distraction from unpleasant thoughts. As she flings herself further into a meditative state, she ceases to account for the space around her, trusting her feet to find the way home.

Something snags her wrist.

Her arm is nearly wrenched from its socket as she is dragged to the side and slammed against the wall. A massive hand envelops her arm from the wrist to the elbow. Each finger is thicker than her bicep, and stronger than a band of steel. She blinks away the blurriness in her eyes as her brain furiously catches up with the visual input.

The hand is purple, connected to a thick wrist, attached to a meaty-hunk of an arm. Tattered scraps of fabric cling to a watermelon-sized bicep - the remnants of a once respectable doctor’s coat. She recognizes each detail individually but she can’t seem to put the pieces together. There’s pain blooming in the back of her skull where it connected rather rudely with the cement.

“Didn’t you hear Mundo calling you?”

Ah. That’s right.

Lux lifts her head to peer at the monstrous visage of one Dr. Mundo. Shit, she hopes that there’s only one. Right now, she’s seeing double-triple. And she knows that cloning isn’t one of the good doctor’s abilities.

“I - What -”

Reaching for her mana, she summons her baton. But Dr. Mundo is fast, which is one of his abilities, and he bats away the baton like swatting a particularly irksome fly. She hisses and throws a wild punch using her only free hand. The hit lands soundly against Dr. Mundo’s chin and it does absolutely nothing. He smirks at her and, with a dextrous maneuver - unexpected from such a large man, he seizes both of her arms in a single leathery fist.

“Don’t worry! Dr. Mundo likes them feisty!” His swollen tongue spreads a thick layer of spit across his gaping maw.

Lux gags as bile rises up her throat. The stench of his putrid breath is identical to the smell of a carcass rotting under the open sun. She’s forced to inhale through her mouth.

Despite Dr. Mundo’s lack of irises and pupils, she could tell that his gaze had fixated on her slightly parted lips as if she was some coquettish whore inviting him to taste. And sure enough, he pushes himself closer, pressing the wide girth of his body against her chest, sliding slightly as if rubbing himself on her boobs.

Lux is going to kill him.

She swings her legs, trying to find any leverage. But he is built for this kind of combat - up close and personal. Even if she could kick him, her feet would only find muscle tougher than cement. And without her baton, with both her hands trapped, she’s cut off from her magic - no shields, no bindings, no exploding singularities.

Dr. Mundo has captured her completely, and from the wicked grin he’s wearing, the good doctor is fully aware of this. Despite sounding like a toddler with special needs, he remains the genius capable of inventing super soldier serums. Given the right incentive, which she can feel pressing against the meat of her thigh, Dr. Mundo can orchestrate a successful ambush. And he did.

Adrenaline starts to surge through her as she reconciles with the severity of her situation. Most of the other champions remain at the banquet hall. She took a lesser used route to the Demacian dorms, hoping to avoid further harassment. Stupid. She set herself up.

“People say that pretty lady likes the Zaunites,” he cheerfully tells her. “Do not worry. Dr. Mundo also likes pretty lady. We will have lots of fun.”

Then he leans in, nuzzling the crook of her neck. Lux feels the way his nostrils flare as he sucks in her scent. She bucks with her whole body, desperately trying to pull away and push him off at the same time. Her eyes dart around the hallway, desperate to find something - anything that could help. The tray with her ruined lunch on the floor, the light sconce on a nearby pillar, the - the - that’s it. There’s nothing else. There’s nothing that she can use. There’s…

There’s footsteps. Someone’s coming. She can hear the clack of shoes against the stone floor. Someone’s heading her way.

“Let go of me!” She yells, using every squeeze of air in her lungs. “You fucking bastard! Don’t you dare! I’ll burn a hole through your torso!!!”

Dr. Mundo sneers. “Go on then. Do it.”

Lux snarls as she twists her head to the side. She gets a good look of the entryway, where this hall connects to the main foyer. As the footsteps get closer, she first sees a shadow - no obvious details, just a vague shape and size. Then someone steps into the entryway, pausing there for a single second. Due to the dim light, Lux can only see a silhouette - no facial features, no specific colors. But she knows the curve of those shoulders, the fragile lines of those limbs, and the tell-tale twin braids framing that torso.

It’s Jinx. It could only be Jinx.

Infinity is distilled into a second as they stare at each other. Jinx must clearly see the problem at hand. There’s nothing that could hide Dr. Mundo’s hulking mass. Lux has made an utter fool of herself, and yet, she nurses a secret relief. Jinx is here. Jinx can save her. Jinx will…

The second ends and the footsteps continue. Jinx walks away. There’s no stilted movement - no hesitancy in her steps. She simply goes, going, gone. Lux loses sight of her.

“Heh, pretty lady, did you think that bluebird would help you?” Dr. Mundo cackles. “You don’t know that bluebird told us all the stories. You’re a naughty girl - don’t lie to Dr. Mundo.”

Lux watches the empty entryway where Jinx once stood. White noise fills her head like the stuffing of a teddy bear and just as thick. A buzzing static spreads from the tips of her fingers to the roots of her hair. This can’t be happening. That didn’t just happen. There’s no way - It’s not possible - She wouldn’t have…

A deadweight presses against her ribs as fingernails start to dig into her belly. She watches as Dr. Mundo tugs her around like a pleasure doll just for him. It’s odd. She can’t quite comprehend that he’s touching her - that her body is in his hands. There’s a dull and distant awareness of danger - she needs to escape now.

With her mind so removed from the present circumstances, pure animal instinct takes over - sharpened by years behind the front lines as one of Demacia’s finest soldiers. Dr. Mundo is bowing his head, sloppy mouth and putrid tongue ready to touch her in some way. As he gets close, her eyes find a vein - plump and pulsing beneath the thin skin of his throat. Every other part of him is roided to resist physical damage - every part save for key exceptions.

She moves first - she moves fast. Before his lips could reach her, she launched herself forward, forcing her spine to bend. Her jaw clamps around his throat, right over that vein - possibly the carotid artery, then she bites down hard like a bear trap slamming shut.

Time moves very fast after that.

Later, much later, Lux will vaguely remember the taste of his sweat - the way his skin yielded to her teeth like the rubber of a balloon. She doesn’t have fangs - her incisors are the regular human kind. But adrenaline is one hell of a drug. She tore his throat open, and it was the carotid artery. An ordinary man would have bled out in seconds. Unfortunately, Dr. Mundo is no ordinary man.

He must have let her go, and she must have escaped. It’s all speculation since Lux can’t remember. Her body moved without any input from her mind because she lost her mind. Poof. Missing. Spam the MIA ping.

“Holy Morg…”

Lux finds herself in the training grounds behind the Demacia dorms. Burnt husks of target dummies surround her. The lemon-acid tang of her magic laces the air. Huh. Apparently, she’s been busy.

“Are you - no, of course you’re not okay…”

She twirls her baton, relishing the weight of it in her hand. There’s blood under her fingernails - already dried and tacky. It’s cold out here.

“Lux… What happened?”

She faces Quinn - good, reliable Quinn. The older woman is a respectable distance away, watching her with cautious concern. Quinn barely spends time at the Institute - a free-spirit, roaming through the wilderness of Demacia. And yet, the ranger-knight is here - how very strange.

“Lux? Can you hear me? Hello?”

She nods. Of course, she can hear her. There’s only a few meters of space between them and she’s not deaf. But Quinn doesn’t look any less… wary, which makes sense. Lux must be a gory sight, with a sliver of skin stuck to her chin and the splash of blood coating her chest piece. She hasn’t seen a mirror yet so she can only imagine her absolutely horrific appearance. It’s a good thing that red (or reddish brown) compliments her complexion nicely. Oh, wait, Quinn is talking.

“-shock. You might need a medic. Okay? Lux? Merciful Kindred, what happened to you?”

She could talk about the rumours. She could talk about Dr. Mundo’s attempted sexual assault. She could talk about the Institute’s internal issues - the glaring lack of actual protection for their champions. They claim to condemn violence but they never act on their condemnation - it’s all just lip service. She could tell Quinn that - any of that. Quinn should know these things.

“She left me…” Lux whispers.

The words fall out of her mouth like raindrops heralding a hurricane.

“She didn’t even look at me! Not really. She just walked away. Gone. She fucking left me!!”

Quinn flinches, stepping backwards. She opens her mouth to reply but Lux cuts her off with a scream. It’s a thoughtless sound of concentrated agony, accompanied by an eruption of immolating light. Magic responds to strong emotions and she sure has some strong emotions.

When Lux returns to her senses, the training grounds have transformed into a single, giant crater. Quinn had taken cover, unscathed save for a slightly singed cloak.

“Alright. You’re very upset.”

Lux snorts, rolling her eyes.

“I… Listen, I’m technically on the clock. But if you wanna talk about… um… then just let me know. Okay? I’ll be around.” Quinn coughs, clearing her throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, who is she?”

Lux stays silent, sinking down to sit on the dirt. An early evening breeze slides through her hair as she rubs a fist over her eyes. She breathes out.

“Yeah, I get it. I can lea-”

“It was Jinx.”

“... Pardon?”

“Jinx set me up. Jinx left me.”

Soil shifts somewhere above her. The sound prompts Lux to glance up. She catches sight of Quinn sliding down the crater, then jogging towards her. The ranger-knight moves with grace and blatant intent, fixating on Lux as if she was her quarry. Lux is too tired to be intimidated.

“You met with Jinx? Where? When?”

“Do I look like I would know? Before you approached me, I was completely divorced from reality. And you want me to give you timestamps of my encounter?”

“Lady Crownguard…”

“I’m sick of hearing that title! It’s meant to show respect but I only hear it when someone means to manipulate me. I don’t know anything, okay?!”

Like all champions, Quinn possesses an exceptional set of skills. If Lux has arcane prowess, then Quinn has visual acuity to match her partner, Valor. Her brown-nearly-amber eyes study Lux, seeking falsehoods in the body’s language. She must find none because she breathes in slowly, shoulders sagging, head tilting down. Lux can read body language too.

“Quinn… Why are you here?”

Her friend’s jaw clenches, and she takes a second too long to reply. “I am the finest tracker in Demacia. I can spot a trail in any forest.”

“Just-Just tell me.”