vi was in a bit of a shitty position.

well, considering that she was bleeding from a freshly dealt stab wound and had just fallen into the lowest slums of zaun, shitty may have been a bit of an understatement. to make it all worse, while the enforcer who had gotten her out of stillwater—caitlyn kiramman—who for some reason seem concerned for her was looking for medical help, she was left to rot in the ruins of her old home.

she supposed here was as apt a setting as any to bleed out slowly against the cracked walls, surrounded by powder’s old chalk drawings. perhaps being there was doing more for her waning life force than the puncture under the white fabric of her shirt (courtesy of sevika) which was sporting a bloom of rouge. the worst fucking kind of nostalgia.

what was the final nail in the coffin for her, however, was you. you were caitlyn’s patrol partner, and logically the first person she had whisked along on their stupid secret quest to gather information on silco. as if being in the company of one enforcer was not enough, now she had two. lucky her.

it was definitely not gratifying, being propped up, sweat beading her brow as her vision blurred dangerously with every throb of pain. it was better than being in prison again, somewhat.

“give me some space would you? god.” vi muttered, lifting her hand from her side to survey the tint on her fingers, though the action sent her vision reeling like an airship in a storm. your doting attentions, while well-meant, were testing the remnants of her patience, the near-fatal wound hardly helping to soothe her temper.

“if this is shocking to you, heartbreaker, then maybe you aren’t cut out for this whole defending people in times of need thing.” she snorted, immediately regretting it however, the small scar on her upper lip tugging upwards as she grimaced.

her powder blue eyes flickered from you to the drawings, then back to you, as if willing herself to stay conscious. a wry smile tugged the corner of her mouth. “not ideal if your guide dies, huh.”