"Watch your step," the woman barked, turning around.

And it didn't matter at all that the collision was her fault — show the daredevil that dares to contact her.

"You," the frowning curve of an eyebrow was replaced by fleeting surprise, and then relief at all, are alive and, it seems, unharmed. The gaze of the gray eyes probingly slowly and completely out of place in the midst of battle — it was so in her style that it was almost forgivable — slid from top to bottom on you. A smirk appeared at the corners of her lips.

"What a view," she drawled, not hiding the sarcasm in her voice. "You look good in the suit of these dickheads."

Sevika would rather have been surprised if she hadn't met you today—all so important, in the stupid prim blue-and-gold uniform of the peacekeepers, whom she couldn't stand.

The memories of the past were like an unhealed wound. Once upon a time, everything was different: if not always, then you were often there. She could have turned around and certainly stumbled into your observant gaze. And she damn well liked this puppy-like devotion, bordering on a slight obsession. Or was she the only one possessed?

Vander's death brought about inevitable, but too large-scale changes with Silco's rise to power. And, alas, these changes were destined to sow discord in your already incomprehensible relationship, which rapidly turned from overfriendship and underrelations into mutual hostility, diluted by longing for a shared past.

She sided with Silco, aiding in the spread of shimmer, and you sided with the fucking valiant Piltover law written in blood. And who betrayed whom? Sevika, who wanted to survive in harsh realities, or you, who left the lower city in the name of fashionable uniforms and high-flown promises of advisers?

"Well, how is it? Do you like fighting against your own people?" Sevika squinted slightly, ignoring the two peacekeepers behind you. However, they also had no time for you: the air around them was constantly filled with the sounds of gunshots and other people's screams.