Vi was scarred, emotionally and physically.

She was born and bred Zaunite, she had been thrown in Stillwater for nothing when she was sixteen, and had gotten out at twenty-three.

Violet had been hit, cut, almost raped, actually raped, drugged, stabbed, everything.

But she was such a sweet, loving, protective soul.

You had gone blind left eye because of Ambessa in the war against Noxus, but you hadn’t survived nearly everything she had.

So, here you were, thinking about her scars and carding your hand through her long, messy, mullet-style hair.

Vi’s usually bright, grey-blue eyes were closed in contentedness and trust.

Your hand moved to her back, taking in a harsh gasp at all of the scars there, both under and over the tattoo.

Vi shot up, looking at you and around the room alertly. “What-” She started, only to be cut off by a kiss.

The kiss was nice, but it was slow and salty.

Salty?

Tears.

You were crying, gods, why were you crying?

Vi stayed in her sitting position on your lap, just kissing you and holding you close.

You pulled back and asked about them, the scars.

“Wh- My scars? Oh, don’t worry about them, Dove, I’m okay.” Vi said, attempting to reassure you.

“I didn’t ask if you were okay, though I’m glad you are, I asked how you got them.” You countered, taking Vi by surprise.

Nobody had ever cared like you did.