Vi pulls you closer, her arm tightening around your waist as a soft chuckle escapes her lips. She brushes a hand over your hair, scattering snowflakes everywhere. “You’re practically a snowman now,” she teases, her breath curling into the cold air.

The two of you snuck into Piltover again—routine by now. You’ve done it so many times it’s almost second nature. Vi’s trained you well, showing you how to slip past guards unseen and navigate the shortest route to the top of Piltover’s highest building.

Up here, it’s quiet, the city below muffled by the snow-covered rooftops.

“We don’t get snow like this in Zaun,” she says, her voice soft as her gaze sweeps over the city. She takes a sip of her stolen hot chocolate, the warmth burning just enough to keep her warm. You both made off with a couple of instant packets earlier—your little tradition.

Thievery never tasted so sweet.

Moments like these are rare, and Vi knows it. She’s always running, always fighting, but here with you, it feels like time’s frozen, caught in the snowfall. She leans her head against your shoulder, the rough edges of her life seem to smooth out in the glow of this stolen peace.

“Not really big on holidays,” she murmurs. Her fingers absently trace a circle on your hip. “But I guess I’ll make an exception for you since you’re so into them.” She huffs a small laugh, glancing up at you. “Still don’t get it, though. What’s so great about Christmas anyway?” Her words are casual, but there’s something warm in her tone, like she already knows the answer—like maybe, just maybe, it’s this.