Fucking Finally
She walked. Along the pavement, spotted with sunlight shining through the canopy, along streets warm with chatter. She did not absorb their warmth. A cold spot moving through the crowd. She walked until the spotless inlay of the bricks started to become chipped and stained with oil, until people kept growing scarcer, and until she felt the breezy wind lifting up off the water’s surface and running its fingers through her hair, making of it a wild brown pile of curls. Begrudgingly reaching up, she patted her hair down.
The surface of Pilt was shimmering, alive with the current. Some odd ducks were padding along here and there, and she almost smiled. If she gazed further up the current, she’d see the bridge. The bridge on which, presumably, her mother’s killers traversed. The other side of the river proved to be a far stimulating sight.
She was vaguely knowledgeable about the origin of the city of Zaun. The place was originally a mining site, but it sank in overtime, bringing its miners down with it. There was a lot, lot more to the city than meets the eye, below the surface. She’s never been, of course, and probably never will be, either. It was fascination that kept and kept bringing her back here, to the riverside. It was satisfying to be out of the estate and peering into the lives of others, into a whole different world. How did people live down there? How did they go about their days? What did they do? Who was down there? Would she find anything? Would she find anything worthwhile? Would she find anyone? Would she find her mother’s killers? Would she find a reason that they did what they did?
Breathing out through her nose, Avery flicked her gaze to the bridge, dividing and rising to let a vessel pass. It’d be so, so easy to just… go. Leaving everything and everyone behind. Cross the bridge and don’t look back, something told her. I should do it, a part of her responded. That’s the dumbest fucking idea you’ve had in a while, Avery, the other part spoke. She’d be robbed naked.
She knew it was probably time to return in the way her feet grew restless under her, and the confusion started to stew. No sane person would want to go down there.
Her legs were moving to take the first steps back home when a particularly strong breeze blew her clothes askew. Something came blowing in the wind and flew into the back of her head. Feeling dumb, she rubbed the spot to chase away the sting, and reached down to inspect it. The thing in her hands had her brows furrowed. It was a palm-sized little toy, she guessed. Yet, she’d never seen something quite so… intricate yet so mechanized. It resembled a butterfly. Made of metal, it was remarkably light and thin, to the point it was seemingly flying around when the wind blew it off path. Upon closer inspection, no wonder the thing was as light as it was; its abdomen was hollow, an elaborate cage. The little butterfly came from across the river, she was absolutely sure. This sure turned interesting.
“Apparently, there’s a genius inventor down there, because take a look at this, Cait.” She pulled the butterfly out of her breast pocket, and held it out for her to see. When Caitlyn made an attempt to take it, she quickly closed her palm. A look passed between them before the palm opened again, and this time Caitlyn was sure to keep her hands to herself.
“Er, what am I looking at exactly?” She leaned forward on the sofa, one strap of her camisole slipping off her shoulder. Avery averted her gaze back to her palm.
“This, Caitlyn, is something unheard of! This was flying around,” she explained, on the edge of the armchair opposite Caitlyn. “It’s made of metal. Look!” She thrust her hand forward, urging her to look.
“I see,” she said. Truth was, Caitlyn was not really sure why this mattered when things like this were everywhere around Piltover. “That sure is… nice, Avery.” She tried to smile.
“Huh, yeah.” Avery noticed her lack of enthusiasm, and narrowed her eyes. So, she tried to direct the conversation to something the other liked, and pocketed the little guy. “What did Marcus say?”
Reanimated, Caitlyn replied, “He said he’d put me in training, actually.” She was smiling.
“How long before you’re a proper enforcer, then, eh?” Avery asked, grinning. Caitlyn was pestering her mother about this enforcer business for a while before turning to her father when Cassandra proved fruitless. Doubtless Cassandra was angry, but Avery was sure Tobias had something or other up his sleeve when it came to buttering her up.
“Some three months, he said.” She leaned back on the sofa and brought her legs under her.
“That’s really great,” Avery replied. “Means I can get away with most things if you're beside me in that uniform, huh?” she joked. “And so soon.” Caitlyn rolled her eyes when Avery winked.
“Means that you can’t get away with shit, actually.” Cait was giggling before she finished the sentence. Avery chuckled in turn, echoing in the high-ceilinged, pristine room.
“You’d really throw me under the bus?” she asked through a smirk.
“If it meant promotion, then absolutely,” she jibed.
“You’re evil, girl.”
Strangely, she wasn’t quite so surprised that the butterfly was glowing in the dark at night. She seemed to stare at it until she couldn't see it glowing anymore. Either the sun came up or she fell asleep.
Over the coming days, her hands didn’t stray far from it for long, it always returned to the butterfly. She fiddled it with her right hand in her pocket, running her fingers over the smooth ridges. When she wrote or painted, or when her hands were preoccupied, she couldn’t find a way to keep it in contact — for whatever reason, that soothed her. Even then, she was afraid she’d wear a hole through the thing. That was precisely why she found herself in this situation.
Her hands shook, even when she told herself that it wasn’t that serious. She was gonna take the thing apart to make a necklace. Perhaps the second dumbest idea. But she liked the idea of a necklace fashioned from such an intricacy.
Working so up close with it had her mesmerized than ever with its nitty-gritty components. She wasn’t sure where to even begin to take it apart. Toggling the wings, she saw a junction and tried to somehow pull it free, but her fingers did not allow. So, she fetched a magnifying glass and a needle and went to town on the poor thing. She came out on the other side bearing fruit.
What she was left with, though, was lesser than what she began with. Its many brittle legs had been just seperating from the body for a while now, and in the process of taking apart, its hollow abdomen was crushed by a careless elbow. She was pretty sure she found the butterfly’s antennae in her hair the same day it bumped into her. What she did have was its four wings and its head with eyes of slotted screws. Thinking it quite creepy to have a dead insect’s head hanging around her neck, Avery settled on its forewing and hindwing, and because it was easier, too. She just had to slip a dainty chain through the many holes and, viola, she had herself a necklace. People needn’t know whence it came. It was a little secret that only she was partial to (maybe Cait, if she remembered).
The place creaked one of its many creaks. Kind of like when a building was on the edge of collapsing and it was straining with effort. But the place was old and sturdy, they way the newer things never seemed to be, and would never collapse. She liked it when it creaked, made Mylo shut up.
Maybe she was searching for something, or running away when she found the big old shaft of turbines. She was falling, maybe. But she landed and she looked around and inspected through the dank turbines and saw what it might come to be and she stuck around. She built and built this place up from the ground until it was hers. She stood with her hands on her hips and she beamed.
Wasn’t long before Silco was strutting in so coolly, and Jinx… frowned. One foot in front of the other, he took everything in. He encouraged her in the way he saw his ashtray and little miscellaneous things in his office painted neon and didn’t say anything. That was encouragement enough. But Jinx knew it came to a point, and she was off to have something entirely of her own. Still, Mylo and Claggor followed her here. One wouldn’t even know Claggor was there; he’s so silent, unlike his brother. Maybe he was the one who told Silco with his never-closing mouth. But, Silco didn’t say much. That same look on his face. “Don’t fall,” he said, glancing into the depths below, or something of the sort. Jinx didn’t plan to fall and she didn’t do anything she didn’t plan to (this could be very untrue).
He accepted the assuring clap on his shoulder and he was on his way. Part of her hoped he never returned here, with his monologues of greatness and revenge. She knew she was great already, he just hadn’t seen all of her yet with his one single eye. The greatest of all. He’ll catch on. Her bombs worked all of the time and look at how her very own lair was coming along, damn it! Plus, she was working on a very sneaky but deadly bomb that Silco wouldn’t even have dreamt of coming. She was sending it over to the other side of the river just for shits and giggles when it veered off track and hit a woman in the head. It was just the wind. And it didn’t explode. She had a word with Mylo. One phrase he always seemed to repeat. You’re a jin-. Slightly peeved, she returned to her — yes, her — lair and kept toiling away.
She couldn’t exactly pinpoint her oversight because the thing was gone, she watched the lady pocket it and walk away, like a little thief. She watched the next one fly and fly until it landed on Sevika’s arm and exploded into confetti. Oh, yes, that was even worse than her blowing her real damn arm off, if dangling Jinx by her shirt was anything to go by. If she recalled correctly, she did nothing of the sort when… when… The warehouse- that explosion. Vander. Van-V-Van… Vi. Violet.
A Jinx. You’re a Jinx.
Powder forgot when exactly she became Jinx, but everyone called her that. Powder was weak.
Pain brought her back to reality this time. The piece she was soldering had dripped onto the back of her hand. She shook her hand and sucked on the wound. She’d probably pop the blister constantly until it was too tired to come back and left behind a scar. An explosion a day keeps the voices away. She was grinning as she left her lair with a butterfly in her pocket.
She gazed all along the bridge to the other side. So close. So easy. A few steps, and she’d be that much closer to… she didn’t really know. Losing her life, maybe. Feeling something. Building something for herself. What did she need that was down there? There was danger down there, that’s for sure. Did she need danger?
One step forward. Two, three and four. Right through the middle of the walkway. It seemed she did need danger, she thought. The enforcers to her right and left let her through with a glance, but she saw a presumed Zaunite be stopped and inspected and pushed around behind her. Every step was a decision, all two hundred and fifty two of it. It was a decision to keep moving after each step. Another decision that she kept moving forward. The enforcers at the other end of the bridge had respirators on, but she saw none on the faces of the locals moving around behind them.
She felt like she broke an invisible barrier when she stepped through in between them. Descending the stairs was nerve-wracking. She walked along the shoreline for a bit, afraid to plunge into this other deadly world. The smog was a thing she hadn’t quite grasped the fatality of. A few minutes and she was already feeling a dry sting in her throat. To think this is the improved air-quality. Improved my ass. I’m gonna die down there if up here is this bad. I won’t even have the chance to be robbed blind.
Thinking of air quality and getting robbed really did preoccupy one’s mind because Avery fucking bumped into someone. The first thing she noticed was blue. The blue-ness of the person, the girl, was startling. Her eyes, her hair, too. The second thing was that she was looking at her like she wanted to choke her out real bad. The third and final thing she noticed was the butterfly flung onto the ground. She reached for her necklace on instinct, and she felt it there. She glanced back at the girl in puzzlement. Without thinking much of it, she extended her hand, because that was common courtesy. In hindsight, she should always think much of everything.
“You’re the damn thief that pocketed my butterfly!” she spat, and smacked her hand to the side.
“Pardon?”
“Pardon-shmardon, with your fancy talk,” she mocked in disdain as she stood up and dusted herself off. “You’re the woman who stole this from me! Sound familiar, thief?” She swiped the butterfly from the ground and held it out for her to see.
Avery was giddy. “You,” she began, sounding disbelieving, “are the one that made this?” She slipped two little metal plates from inside her shirt and presented it to her.
Her face scrunched up in suspicion, and she drew back her arm slowly. In any other circumstance, Avery would’ve thought a pout on someone’s lips a heresy, but this one? Oh boy, did she enjoy it. “What if I am?”
Avery ignored the notion and instead asked, “What’s your name?” Because why wouldn’t she? This probably dangerous girl she must have pissed off monumentally would totally indulge in chatter, wouldn’t she? If she wasn’t gonna die after asking that question, she probably would come the next interaction with a local. A nervous smile stretched across her face.
“And would you look at that!” she exclaimed, disgruntled. A few eyes drew to them before they went on their way. “You popped my blister.”
“Oh, erm,” Avery stumbled over what to say. “Sorry?” She tried.
“Just ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it, lady.”
“I’m really, terribly sorry?” Containing a smile, she tried again. She was playing a tad bit sly.
The other girl had a look on her face that suggested she was speechless. Again, Avery quite enjoyed that on this girl’s face. To utilize this speechlessness, she introduced herself to perhaps get the same sentiment back.
“I’m Avery,” she held out her hand, “and yours?” Her hand was slapped away again. Avery’s brows furrowed. When she looked at her face, she thought that this girl liked to just… slap her hand away or something. She offered her hand again. Slapped. She tried once more. Slapped. “Stop doing that.”
“Or what?”
“I’m trying to get your name, girl.” A hand offered. Slapped again.
“Why should you? You haven’t done anything to deserve my name.”
“Am I supposed to?”
“It seems so, thief.”
“My name,” she began, exhaling through her nose, “is Avery.”
“Oh, I heard you the first time.”
“Tell me yours, then, idiot.”
“Do you plan to get killed?”
“… No?”
“Keep your mouth shut, then, Piltie.”
Then, the girl was brushing past her before she seemed to remember something abruptly, or be blessed with a genius idea and turned back around. “This is for you, Avery.” From her palm, the butterfly took off in the direction of Avery. The poor girl was smiling with her palm outstretched when the thing blew the fuck up.
Dust and rubble. A scream somewhere. Vibrations thrummed beneath her, swept her off her feet. Gurgling. Choking. Blood. Red lipstick. Someone was screaming. A touch on her arm. Stop screaming. Stop screaming.
“Stop screaming!”
She couldn’t see anything. When one wakes up from a nightmare, disoriented, they can’t see anything. But they felt. Slap.
“Geez, what’s fucking wrong witcha? You cuckoo or something?” Avery didn’t think they quite heard that question, though.
Her vision seeped back little by little until she saw a figure silhouetted by the sun (there was a vague thought of an angel with a halo of sunlight). What the fuck just happened?
“What the fuck just happened?” she asked, shielding her eyes from the sun. Sweat beaded on her back and she couldn’t feel her fingertips, or rather, they were pins and needles. Her ass was also hurting a good amount. Breathless.
“I dunno. You crazy?” In truth, she may have had an inkling to what just happened.
“No.” A moment passed. Avery glanced at her clothes. It was inexplicably neon pink. “You fucking blow me up?”
“Sure did.” She offered Avery her hand. She looked at it with uncertainty.
“What if I slap it away?” she joked weakly, a grimace when she tried a grin.
“I dunno. The name’s Jinx. D’ya like my do-over?”
“Sure, Jinx.” With a grin, she took her hand. Rising to her full height, she looked down at this so-called Jinx. “Did you slap me just now?” She rubbed over her cheek. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been slapped.”
“You’re not sure? You wanna be sure?” Without waiting for an answer, because frankly, Avery wasn’t able to even get a sound out, before she was slapped. Again. Her head hung to the side from the force of it, and her cheek stung.
“I’ve been slapped.”
Jinx cackled. With a grin and a wink, she slunk away into the depths of the undercity. Avery was kind of bad at following social cues, but she’s pretty sure Jinx was expecting her to follow. Better safe than sorry, she thought as she scampered after her before she lost sight.
Avery tried to tell herself she was fit enough after ascending four flights of stairs and absolutely having her breath stolen. Safe to say, she was not fit enough to be leaping off cliffs and rooftops. A corner of a building slammed into her ribs and she was just laying there when Jinx came back for her.
“Can we just walk like people?” she asked from the ground, looking up at the sky, and cradling her side.
“You cannot be serious! You’re- Why did you even cross the bridge? Would be dead by now.” Avery glared at her. “What? Just saying,” she trailed off, shrugging.
It was slow progress after that. Slow and sure. But they just kept going and going and going-
“Are we there yet?”
“Nah.”
“Are we there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we there yet?”
“Shut your stinker.”
“Are we there yet?”
“Welcome to my abode.”
Fucking finally, Avery thought as she nursed her feet.