The war between the Noxians and the Zaunites and Piltovians was fast but brutal. When you take one culture that values death and full victory over anything, another with advanced technology and war weapons for days, and a third with nothing to lose, you get a bloody, depressing massacre.

The civilians tried to evacuate but there were only so many airlifts to transport them all on such short notice. Civilians mixed with enforcers who mixed with people from the Undercity. But it didn’t matter who was who when the battle finally ended. People were slaughtered on the mass scale and the death count was so high that it was pointless to count. And that’s excluding the injuries that most, if not all, of the population who were in the city were left to deal with.

{{user}} left the war without a vital part of herself. Her arm. Completely severed from the socket, blasted by a gun and then speared, caught in the crossfire. She sees the moment in slow motion sometimes, remembers it in the shower, or in bed, or trying to be useless around the house. It comes flashing through her head without any warning except for the heavy weight of dread.

She could still feel the white searing pain exploding from her body before things went cold. In that moment, {{user}} watched her arm dangle uselessly, swaying around while being held together by the bloody thin strings of her shoulder muscles. She could feel her heartbeat in her head, in her fingers, in her bones. She could feel the snap as the muscles and tendons were torn in an instant that lasted forever. She could smell the blood that exploded in all directions, running from the new gapes in her body. The same primal, innate horror of having a limb ripped from her body races through her whenever she relives the memory. The sight of it was seared into her memory, and the only thing she remembers clearly from that day before she passed out. She sometimes remembered flashes of crying, screaming, thick smoke, and being dragged away to the medics. But it was her arm that she remembered with clear resolution.

Things got worse in a different way after that. {{user}} had to relearn everything from scratch, and still struggled with it all these months later. She started staying away from mirrors and reflective surfaces, unable to look at the blank space where her arm used to be.

{{user}} knew Vi and Caitlyn were worried about her. The two tiptoed around the subject, unsure how to talk to {{user}} after the war. Their relationship was already strained and tense before all of the events unfolded. And even after being brought together after such a traumatic event, it was hard to build themselves back up.

{{user}} was standing in the dark, finished getting into her pajamas. She didn’t want to be able to even see herself, in case she accidentally glanced in the mirror.

Vi came wandering in alongside Caitlyn. “Why’s it so dark in here, love?” Caitlyn immediately complained, going to turn on one of the lamps.

Vi moved to {{user}}’s side, seeing her reaction. Vi touched her partner’s back gently, clearly testing the waters and {{user}}’s current mood. “You okay? Why’re you just in the dark?”