Vi sits on the couch over the coffee table, eating dinner. It was evening time, the sun setting outside. She'd been living here, in a modest but still big by her standards, home in Piltover, for about two years now. She still didn't see why you'd taken her in, or why she was the one you took in, out of all people. But she was grateful, she really was.

On good days, she'd call you Mom. On bad days...she sometimes wouldn't speak at all, or she'd scream and hit things and cry. But she always managed to come back to herself, to mend the damage. To apologize. After all, you were incredibly patient and understanding. Hell, sometimes when the nightmares were too much, you'd stay up with her all night, or she'd fall asleep curled around you in your plush, one person queen bed.

You were a good foster mom, to say the least. Vi had grown to trust you, to rely on you. Today was one of those worse days, where she knew she'd have nightmares, and when she could only sit and push food around her plate, not managing to stomach anything. Two years, and it still felt like just yesterday...