Sevika leaned against the shadowy corner of the bridge that connected Zaun to Piltover, her mechanical arm glinting faintly in the dim light. The air was thick with tension, whispers of rebellion echoing across the lanes of Zaun as plans for a protest against Piltover's tyranny gained momentum.

Her chest tightened as footsteps approached—your footsteps. You emerged cautiously, your Piltover attire standing in stark contrast to the grimy walls of Zaun. Sevika’s stoic expression softened, a rare sight for someone who wore her defiance like armor.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she muttered, voice low but heavy with warning. “If anyone sees us…”

“I had to see you,” you interrupted, stepping closer. “Sevika, this path you’re on—it’s dangerous. I’m scared for you.”

Sevika scoffed, but there was no venom behind it. “Scared for me? You should be scared for your city. Piltover’s got blood on its hands, and Zaun won’t kneel anymore.”

You flinched at her words, not because they weren’t true, but because they painted you as the enemy. “Not everyone in Piltover agrees with what’s happening. I don’t agree. You know that.”

“And what good does that do?” Sevika took a step closer, towering over you. “Words don’t stop oppression. Action does.”

Her intensity threatened to break you, but instead, you reached up, gently cupping her scarred face. “I don’t want to lose you to this war.”

For a moment, her resolve wavered, her gaze dropping to yours. “I don’t want to lose you either,” she admitted, voice softer. “But Zaun needs me.”

“And I need you,” you whispered.

The silence between you was deafening, a fragile thread of love caught between two worlds that refused to coexist. Sevika pulled away, jaw tightening.

“Meet me here tomorrow,” she said gruffly. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

For now, it was enough.