usually the blaring music of the last drop wouldn't bother him. he found it calming, the bass that sometimes vibrated through his shoes and into his toes. it meant his bar turned club was alive with patrons, bringing in the money vander would never be able to make. it was when it went silent that he had something to worry about.

a fast paced song with tons of bass had been playing when suddenly it went silent, and he noticed it immediately. he stopped reading, ears perking up as he sat a little straighter. was a fight about to break out? was his life finally forfeit? did he need to slip out the back?

all these thoughts run rampant through his mind when all of a sudden....he hears familiar drums paired with a guitar. the vocals. and then the muffled words. there's a girl in town, and words gone around she's just fine.

before he knows it, he's pushing his chair back, practically stumbling over his own two feet trying to get downstairs. " MOVE ! " he shoves one of his body guards out of the way, then someone else, an innocent bystander. patrons stare at him as he shoves his way past, a wild look in his eye.

the second he gets to the railing right above the bar, his eyes dart around looking for the culprit. for whoever started playing this god forsaken song. " WHO THE HELL IS PLAYING THAT SONG !? " he yells at the top of his lungs, almost drowning out the music for a moment before it continues. when he doesn't see anyone come forward, he storms down the stairs seething, and shoves someone over the rails. " i said, WHO. IS PLAYING– "

and then he sees her. out of the corner of his eye first, and then as he turns his entire body, in his full vision. and he can't breathe. " you– " is the only word he can get out.

@forh3r

Of course she's fucking tired. It's easier with Felicia around, but it's exhausting being alive, no matter how much sleep she gets. The sun's high in the sky and she's just woken up, half hungover and eager to get the day over with. Most days, she has the council to distract her with their shitty decisions, but not today and she doesn't know if it's a blessing or a curse. "I don't know how you do it. Get up everyday and run this shithole."

@forh3r liked for a starter

you always wonder what she would have thought about you raising her second daughter. you couldn't help yourself. she was the same as you. betrayed by her sibling. left to rot on the destitute streets of the undercity. we will show them all.

it's not often you get to slip away from everything and get in the river. it's a ritual of sorts. you don't wear anything that ties you to who you are, rather dress in hand me downs, rags almost, while you wear a cloak around you and keep your head down. then you leave the cloak on the docks and get into the water. walking to the drop off, and then...you sink. you've learned to hold your breath for almost six minutes. you allow yourself to slowly sink, allow all your worries to float away.

Agriculture in Zaun— It would have to be greenhouses. Perhaps on the roofs of Zaun? We would need money and materials for that, but then we wouldn't be able to expand up should we need to, only out. Down isn't an option. Indoor greenhouses, then. If only we could borrow airships from Piltover, or be sold some to have of our own so we can travel the regions and trade for agriculture that grows in low light. What do we have to trade, though? The grey? Our own agriculture, but it requires an aquired taste, so who would really buy it? We have cavernberries, but how many others do? We have quartz. Plenty of quartz, even still. We only need a way to mine it better without using our people. So maybe the mins is where it starts. The gods damned mines. It always comes back to them. Why? It's like we can't escape them. So. Think of what we can do, what we can use to m—

hunched over and writing fervently to get down every single word you were thinking of, every single thought before as fast as you could, you were so glued to your thoughts, your pen and your paper, that you didn't even hear her behind you. it wasn't until she placed her arms around your shoulders, and you could feel the slight pressure of her forehead against the back of your own that you snap out of it. but you have to finish your thought. and so—

—ake it better. Easier for our people. They come first. Life down here comes first. Remember that.

The sound of the kids upstairs is comforting and almost overwhelming. She remembers a time when she thought they were dead too. Seems everyone was coming back to life these days and she couldn't be more thankful, no matter how jarring it is; especially given that one of the three had quite literally been dead.

Sevika had hoped that the feelings for Felicia would dwindle and die in the cradle where she thought she left them so long ago, but instead it was like someone dumped gasoline on them and lit a match. Whenever Felicia was around, and even when she wasn't, those feelings consumed her. But they were just the lingering feelings of a long dead crush, right? Nothing real. She knew that wasn't true and she couldn't ignore them or drown them out anymore, even if the thought terrified her more than almost anything else these days. The fear was suffocating. She could handle it, if Felicia didn't feel the same, but if she did? If Sevika let Felicia close? If Felicia saw who she really was? The thought made her sick with anxiety and that's not even thinking about the real possibility of Felicia dying again.

She rolls her eyes. Felicia's all jokes, isn't she? No matter how much she pretends otherwise, it's one of the many things Sevika loves about her. "Idiot..." she murmurs affectionately despite the heavy frown that sits on her face. She reaches behind the bar to grab a bottle, knowing she's gonna need even more liquid courage to go through with this.

Downing a large swig, she considers how to go about this. She can't chicken out now. She won't. Her mouth opens and then closes again. She's not a woman of many words, even less than when Felicia was still alive, so the urge to spill her guts is a distressing one. "When I thought the little brats were dead," there's an attempt at distancing here. 'The little brats', she doesn't call them that often, only when she can't handle the true magnitude of her feelings. "You come back into my life like nothin' even happened. Like I was a twenty something year old kid again and you were still..."

Fuck, she hates this. She thinks she might throw up from being so vulnerable. She knocks back another drink. She has to. The only way she knows how to get through this is by drowning herself in the burning liquid. "I wasn't... alone." It was a fucking ride to get used to and she may still have had two Jinx and Isha sized holes in her heart, but it was something. Made her feel like that same kid again. Somewhat, at least. "Then they showed back up and..." She can feel tears burning at the back of her eyes now and she can't look at Felicia.

"It was like I finally... got everything I wanted." A family. A home. Something she hadn't had since she was much, much younger. Even when it was just her and Silco, she didn't have a real family. Her jaw tightens. She has to say the words. She can't go on this rant for nothing. Bare her soul for nothing.

She's not good at... letting people help her. Too often she had been told that exposing weakness left one vulnerable to the other. You can't let them know you are at a weak point, that is when they will strike. It's something she had engrained into her from Silco's teachings. It's something engrained in her from her own experiences. If you let someone in, if you opened up, it was too easy for them to exploit you- but this was her mother. Sure, her being back from the supposed dead was an odd thing in and of itself, but her mother had never hurt her before. Then again, for the longest time, neither had Vi.

our young savior's fingers tensed around the edge of the workbench, his eyes darting toward the flame-lit blur of motion outside the cracked garage door. he wasn’t used to this kind of talk. not with her.

❝ what a thing to admit, ❞ he’d said. and now he regretted it.

suddenly, it felt like his skin didn’t fit right. how do you tell a woman like felicia—a mother—that you once tried to kill her daughter, then kissed her years later like it was salvation? how do you say that loving her felt like throwing your whole body at a speeding train, and sometimes, letting her break you was easier than living without her?

he swallowed hard.

he desperately wanted to say something smart. something smooth. instead, what came out was:

    ❝ i was… there. for a lot of it. not always the way i should've been. but i was there. ❞ he said, feeling his voice losing volume. ❝ powder meant a lot to me. jinx still does. even if i don't know what that means anymore. ❞ faltering at the edges, but he didn't let himself collapse.