two birds | arcane viktor ♡

invitation and invention

A hooded figure strolls through the busy crowd, paying no mind to the brief stares from the bystanders, merchants, and onlookers as she passes by stores that each sell their own unique products. A puff of air releases from her mask as she dodges two brawling men. Holding her bag close, she takes a sharp turn to a dark alleyway. A couple of smokers occupied the side of the alley, insulting each other as they play a card game. She ignored her rising anxiety as she walks past them, a quiet sigh of relief coming out of her as they take no notice of her.

She catches herself before she could slip and fall on the greasy stone way, now walking carefully until she could reach her destination; an artisan workshop. The man on the counter nods at her as she enters, her nodding back as a silent reply. Unclasping the belt behind her head, she takes her mask off, inhaling and exhaling at the dense air, silently thanking the shop's window filters for the cleaner air. She stomps her boots on the rug to get rid of the dirt, taking heavy strides to the door at the corner of the room. The loud squeaks piercing her ears as she struggles to slide the door open, even more so as she closes it back.

"You really need to oil that damn door of yours." She jumps over the five steps of stairs, pulling her hood off of her and catching her breath. The bag's weight pulls on her arm as she lets it fall off her shoulder, her form now leaning to the side. Setting her eyes on the teenage boy sitting at a cluttered desk, hands busy with repairing a complicated looking pair of goggles.

He hums, not looking up from his work. "Hello to you too."

She pushes the tools on his desk to the side to make space for her bag. "Almost bashed my head on the way here-" 

"As usual." 

"-I still don't understand why he wouldn't just relocate somewhere out there. Wouldn't he get more costumers that way?" 

He shrugs at the mention of his boss, shifting his focus from his work to the bag that she roughly dropped beside his work. "Costumers prefer a more secure transaction. They don't want suspicious eyes watching what they bring in and out of the shop."

"Hah. Yeah. Like a pair of rusty goggles, right?"

"Like weapons, Ica." He gave her a pointed look before continuing his adventure through her bag, looking for a specific bottle of his favorite drink. "No sweetmilk?"

Pulling a chair beside him, she sat down with her full weight, head resting on his shoulder. "Sorry, Vik. Gave them to the strays I passed by earlier." She lied as easily as she breathes.

Rolling his eyes, he knew she would be too scared to even approach an animal, or anyone in the undercity for this matter, in fear of getting attacked again. It was 5 years ago when she got robbed going down here all alone, not surprising as she was wearing the most obvious 'i am rich' clothes, very dumb of her really. Thankfully, nothing else horrible happened to her as someone was kind enough to help her find her way back to Piltover. Viktor still remembers her describing her maids' reactions to her getting home dirty and crying, her school bag and jacket gone. He just assumed it didn't traumatize her as much because the next day she tried going to the undercity alone again. Although she still joke about it, it did change her thoughts about Zaun not being that dangerous.

The moment he found the bottles of sweetmilk, he calls her out on her lying which she only replied with a sweet smile. He started consuming half of the bottle, enjoying the sweet taste as he gulps it down. 

"Therapy's getting really boring, I wish I could escape it just for a day."

"You're just saying that because it's your dad."

"Well, yeah. It's embarrassing talking to him about teenage stuff, I would feel more comfortable talking about it with my mother." The atmosphere shifted as the tone of her voice became quiet.