Solidified
Chapter 10: Solidified
One Year Later
The streets of Piltover hummed with life, a symphony of bustling activity that echoed through the polished cobblestone avenues. Merchants stood at colorful stalls adorned with shimmering trinkets and gleaming gears, their voices rising above the chatter as they touted their wares. The air carried the faint scent of engine oil and blooming flowers from the manicured planters lining the streets. Children darted through narrow alleyways, their laughter mingling with the clinking of tools from nearby workshops. Enforcers patrolled the thoroughfares in pairs, their polished boots clicking against the stone, their presence both reassuring and oppressive depending on who was watching.
For most, the city’s golden hues and intricate metalwork embodied Piltover’s brilliance—the pinnacle of progress and innovation. But for Vi, these streets held a different weight, a sharper edge that others couldn’t see. Every turn, every shadowed alley whispered fragments of memories she couldn’t escape. The years spent fighting for Zaun, the few nights hunting for Jinx, and the torment of her captivity left scars that weren’t just etched into her skin but woven into her very perception of the city. It was a place of contradictions for her—a city she once despised but now walked through with a strange mix of acceptance and detachment. Piltover had changed, but so had she.
Vi walked with her hands stuffed into the pockets of her battered leather jacket, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her mechanical arm gleamed faintly in the sunlight, the sleek surface catching the light with each step. The gemstone embedded in the arm pulsed faintly, its rhythm syncing with the steady thrum of her steps—a subtle but constant reminder of what she had endured and the person she had become. She moved with a quiet confidence, her head held high despite the occasional lingering stares from passersby. Some gazes were curious, others wary, and a few carried pity, but Vi ignored them all, her focus fixed on the path ahead.
Vi glanced around, her eyes briefly resting on the ornate spires that framed the skyline before drifting to the bustling market stalls. The vibrant life of Piltover swirled around them, but for Vi, the city’s beauty felt hollow, its golden veneer unable to hide the shadows that still clung to its edges. Beside her, Mel’s unwavering stride seemed to cut through the noise, her presence a steadying force amid the chaos. The two women moved in unspoken sync, their contrasting energies creating a balance that felt almost natural now.
It had taken Vi months—long, grueling months—to walk these streets again without feeling like the walls were closing in on her, without her chest tightening as if invisible hands were pressing against her lungs. The cobblestones beneath her feet had once been familiar, but after her return, they felt foreign, as if she were navigating a city that had moved on without her. The weight of eyes on her back had been suffocating at first, an almost tangible force that made her want to retreat into the sanctuary of her room. Every step outside had felt like a battle, a test of her will against the judgment she imagined radiating from every passerby.
When she’d first ventured out after her return, the reactions had been impossible to ignore. People didn’t just glance—they stared. Some openly froze, their faces paling as if they were standing before the same monster who had once torn through Piltover’s streets with unrelenting fury. Their fear was raw and unfiltered, a mirror of the chaos and destruction she had left in her wake during her shimmer-fueled rampage. She could see it in the way their steps faltered, their hands clutching belongings or guiding children away, as though she might snap at any moment.
Then there were the others—the ones whose gazes she couldn’t stand the most. Pity radiated from their eyes, soft and unbearable, like a heavy shroud draped over her. They didn’t see Vi the fighter—they saw the scars, the mechanical arm, the faint, eerie glow that still lingered in her veins, and they mourned her as though she were some broken relic of a person. They looked at her like she was a ghost, a tragic reminder of what Piltover’s ambition and Zaun’s desperation had wrought.
Vi had hated those looks more than anything else. The fear was something she could understand, something she could shrug off because, in truth, she had feared herself in those early days too. But the pity—it was like a knife, twisting into the parts of her she was still trying to mend. She didn’t need their sorrow, didn’t want their murmured sympathies or sidelong glances. She had been through hell and back, and she didn’t want to be seen as fragile, as someone to mourn. She wanted to be seen as someone who had endured.
At first, she had avoided their eyes altogether, her head down and shoulders hunched as she moved quickly through the streets. But over time, the weight of their stares began to lessen. She still felt them—still caught the hushed whispers and lingering looks—but she didn’t flinch anymore. She had learned to let it roll off her, like water over stone. She didn’t need their pity. She didn’t need their judgment. Her scars, her mechanical arm, her past—they were hers, and she was done letting strangers’ perceptions define her.
Now, she walked with her head high and her gaze steady. The city may have changed, but so did she. People still looked, still whispered, but Vi no longer cared. She had her own path to walk, her own battles to fight, and she wasn’t about to let the glances of strangers slow her down.
Mel walked beside her, with a striking elegance that seemed effortless, her long white coat with gold accents flowing behind her like a regal banner. The fabric shimmered faintly in the sunlight, catching the eye of everyone they passed. Mel’s eyes scanned the streets with a calm intensity, her expression composed yet unreadable. She didn’t seek attention, but her presence alone demanded it. People instinctively stepped aside as she approached, their conversations faltering momentarily as they took her in. She moved as though the city itself bent to accommodate her, a stark contrast to Vi’s quieter but no less commanding presence. Together, they made an unlikely pair, their stark differences in demeanor only highlighting the bond they had forged.
Their walks had become a quiet ritual over the past few months, a way to bridge the gap between them and to remind Vi that she didn’t have to face the reality of Ambessa’s alone.
Today, however, the usual rhythm of their steps felt different. The silence that often stretched between them, normally comfortable and companionable, carried an unspoken tension. Mel’s expression, while calm as ever, betrayed a slight crease in her brow, a flicker of something heavier that Vi had learned to recognize. It wasn’t worry exactly, but it was close—an unspoken concern that Mel carried with her whenever they walked these streets.
“You’re quiet today,” Mel observed, her voice soft but steady, carrying the warmth of someone who wasn’t in a rush for an answer. Her gaze shifted briefly to Vi, catching the light as she spoke. “More than usual.”
Vi shrugged, her hands still stuffed into the pockets of her leather jacket. The gesture was casual, but the set of her jaw and the way her eyes darted to the side betrayed something more. “Just thinking,” she replied, her voice low and rough, though there was no edge to it.
Mel tilted her head slightly, the motion graceful and deliberate, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Thinking about what?” she prompted, her tone curious but unpressing.
Vi didn’t answer right away. Her mechanical fingers flexed unconsciously in her pocket, the faint glow of the gemstone embedded in her arm catching the sunlight as she moved. Her gaze flicked around them, taking in the vibrant chaos of the marketplace they were passing through. The air was alive with the shouts of merchants advertising their wares, the tantalizing scent of freshly baked bread wafting from a nearby stall. Children darted past them, their laughter ringing out as they weaved through the bustling crowd.
It was all so ordinary, so achingly normal, and yet it felt like a world apart from the life she had lived for so long. The brightness of it, the unrelenting energy of a city moving forward, made her feel like a ghost passing through—a relic from a darker time that didn’t quite belong.
“Just… how much has changed,” Vi admitted finally, her voice quieter now, tinged with something she couldn’t quite name. She kept her eyes fixed on the cobblestones beneath their feet, as though afraid to meet Mel’s gaze. “How much I’ve changed.”
Mel slowed her pace slightly, her posture relaxing, and the sharp angles of her usual composure softened. “Change isn’t always a bad thing, Vi,” she said, her voice carrying a rare gentleness that seemed to cut through the noise of the bustling street. “You’ve been through hell, yes. But look at where you are now. Look at who you’ve become.”
Vi’s lips twitched, as though unsure whether to form a smile or a scowl. Her voice, when it came, was dry but tinged with a vulnerability she couldn’t quite hide. “Yeah? And who’s that, exactly? Some half-broken mess trying to piece herself together?”
Mel stopped walking, the movement so sudden that Vi took a step ahead before realizing. Turning fully to face her, Mel’s golden eyes locked onto Vi’s stormy ones, unflinching and resolute. There was no hesitation in her voice as she spoke. “You’re Vi,” she said firmly. “The woman who survived things no one should have to endure. Someone who fought her way back, even when the world tried to bury her. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Vi.”
The words struck a chord deep within Vi, one that left her feeling unmoored. The air between them grew heavy, charged with unspoken meaning. She stared at Mel, her jaw tightening as the sincerity in Mel’s gaze cut through her usual defenses. Normally, Vi was quick with a quip or a shrug, anything to deflect the weight of moments like this. But now, she found herself frozen, unable to brush it off.
“Thanks,” Vi muttered finally, her voice quieter than usual, rough around the edges but undeniably genuine. Her gaze dropped to the cobblestones, her boot scuffing against the ground in a distracted motion. “You’ve… been there for me. More than I ever thought you would.”
Mel’s expression softened, her golden eyes watching Vi carefully, but she stayed silent, waiting.
Vi hesitated, her mechanical hand flexing unconsciously in her pocket. The faint glow of the gemstone embedded in her arm pulsed steadily, like a heartbeat trying to keep her grounded. The scars that traced her skin, glowing faintly in the warm light of Piltover’s streets, felt like a map of everything she had endured—everything she was still trying to understand. Her throat tightened as she wrestled with the words she wanted to say, their weight pressing down on her chest. Her mind flickered to Jinx, the sister she had lost and found in equal measure. Jinx, who had carved her way back into Vi’s life with her chaotic energy and unwavering loyalty. The thought of her brought both an ache and a warmth that Vi couldn’t quite put into words.
And then there was Mel. Mel, who had become something unexpected, something steady in a way Vi hadn’t known she needed. Vi inhaled sharply, the words finally forcing their way out. “You’re my sister, Mel,” she said, her voice low but deliberate, trembling with unspoken emotion. “Whether I like it or not.”
Mel’s faltered for the briefest moment, her eyes widening in surprise. For a second, the golden light of the afternoon seemed to catch in her gaze, illuminating an unspoken emotion Vi couldn’t quite name. Then, slowly, a genuine smile spread across her lips—so warm, so unguarded, that it made Vi’s chest tighten. Mel wasn’t just smiling—she was beaming, and it struck Vi with a force she hadn’t expected.
“I’ve been waiting to hear that,” Mel said softly, her voice steady but thick with feeling. The words weren’t a calculated move, not like so many of the things Mel said. They were raw, unpolished, carrying a vulnerability that mirrored Vi’s own. “You have no idea how much.”
Vi shifted her weight, as she tried to deflect the intensity of Mel’s gaze. Her stormy blue and black eyes flicked to the ground, then back up, searching Mel’s face for some hidden catch. But there wasn’t one. Mel was just… there, her presence steady, her eyes warm and full of unspoken understanding.
“Yeah, well,” Vi muttered, her voice quieter than usual, her lips twitching into a faint, lopsided smile. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. You’re still annoyingly perfect.”
Mel chuckled, the sound light and genuine, breaking the tension that had built between them. She stepped closer, her movements deliberate and calm, and brushed her hand lightly against Vi’s forearm. The touch wasn’t just grounding—it was connective, an unspoken reassurance that Mel understood far more than she let on. “Perfect, huh?” Mel teased gently, her tone playful but tinged with affection. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Vi let out a breath, her laugh rough but real, shaking her head as she looked away. She caught sight of a group of kids laughing as they chased each other, their joy unrestrained and infectious. It made her think of Jinx—of Powder, the little sister who had once laughed like that, carefree and whole. That image, combined with the weight of everything Jinx had become, hit Vi like a punch to the gut. Her mechanical hand flexed again, the faint hum of its gemstone pulsing as if in response to her inner turmoil.
“She’s my sister too, y’know,” Vi said suddenly, her voice rougher now. She glanced at Mel, her jaw tightening. “Jinx. Powder. Whatever name she goes by. She’s my sister, and I’ve never gave up on her. Not ever. But…” She hesitated, her voice faltering as she looked away. “You… You’ve been there in ways I didn’t expect. For me. For her. And that means something.”
Mel’s expression softened, her golden eyes shimmering with an unspoken understanding. She chose her next words carefully, her voice steady yet gentle. “Jinx is your sister, and I know how much she means to you. I’ve seen it. But you don’t have to be strong all the time. That’s what family is for. That’s what I’m here for.”
The word ‘family’ hit Vi like a sudden blow. Her body flinched, a subtle jerk that she couldn’t quite suppress. The warmth of the bustling street faded, replaced by the ghosts that had haunted her for years. Her mind dragged her back to the faces she had lost—Vander, his steady hand always guiding her through the chaos. Milo, his snarky grin never far from his sharp wit. Claggor, quiet but dependable, always ready to shield them all from harm. And her parents, their faces now a blur of fragmented memories, their warmth reduced to an ache she carried deep in her chest.
Vi’s jaw tightened, her mechanical hand flexing in her pocket, the faint hum of its gemstone growing a fraction louder. She stared at the cobblestones beneath her boots, her stormy blue and black eyes shadowed by the weight of her past. Family. The word felt too big, too heavy. It was something she’d tried to hold onto once, and it had slipped through her fingers like sand.
Mel noticed the flinch, her gaze softening even further. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes scanning Vi’s face with quiet concern. “Vi,” she said gently, her voice pulling Vi back to the present. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know,” Vi cut in, her voice rough but not unkind. She exhaled sharply, shaking her head as though trying to dispel the ghosts lingering at the edges of her mind. “It’s just… family’s a loaded word for me. Always has been.”
Mel’s brows furrowed slightly, her posture shifting to lean closer, her presence calm and grounding. “I know what it’s like to lose that,” she said softly, her voice steady. “To feel like the people who were supposed to be there… aren’t anymore.”
Vi’s throat tightened, the raw truth of Mel’s words sinking in. “Yeah,” she muttered, her voice almost a whisper. “Feels like I’ve been losing family my whole life.”
A quiet silence fell between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Mel didn’t rush to fill it; instead, she let it linger, giving Vi the space to speak if she chose. Finally, Vi glanced up, her stormy eyes locking with Mel’s golden gaze.
“But you’re here,” Vi said after a beat, her voice low but laced with an unexpected vulnerability. “Jinx is here. And Cait. Even after… everything. I don’t get it, Mel. I don’t know why any of you stayed.”
Mel’s expression didn’t waver, her voice calm but resolute when she responded. “Because you’re worth staying for,” she said simply, the weight of her conviction evident in every word. “And because family—real family—isn’t something you give up on. Not when it matters.”
Vi blinked, her jaw clenching as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. The word family still felt foreign, but Mel’s unshakable belief was enough to make it feel… possible. She exhaled sharply, her shoulders relaxing as she let the weight of Mel’s words settle into her chest.
“Guess I could do worse,” Vi muttered, her tone rough but softening as a faint, hesitant smile curved her lips. “Calling you family, I mean.”
Mel’s smile widened, her golden eyes glowing with a mix of pride and affection. “You couldn’t do better,” she said lightly, though her voice carried a depth that made Vi’s chest ache.
Vi huffed a laugh, shaking her head as she looked away. “Don’t push it, Medarda,” she said, her tone tinged with reluctant affection. But as she glanced back at Mel, at the warmth in her expression and the quiet strength she offered, Vi felt something shift inside her. The jagged edges of her past didn’t feel so sharp, the weight she carried didn’t feel so crushing. Maybe, just maybe, ‘family’ wasn’t something she’d lost—it was something she could rebuild.
For a moment, the noise of the bustling streets faded into the background, leaving only the two of them standing amidst the chaos. The bond they had spent the past year forging, unspoken and tentative, now felt solidified—something real and unbreakable.
They moved further into the heart of the city, the din of the market softened into the steady rhythm of Piltover’s streets. The sharp clanging of distant machinery mixed with the hum of conversation from passersby. Vi shoved her hands deeper into her pockets, her mechanical fingers grazing the soft lining of her jacket. She glanced sideways at Mel, who walked with an easy grace, her white coat flowing gently behind her, catching the faint rays of sunlight that peeked through the towering buildings.
Their conversation had lulled into a comfortable silence, but Vi’s thoughts churned with questions she had avoided for too long.
“Hey,” Vi said finally, her voice breaking the quiet, her tone hesitant but steady. Her hands were stuffed into the pockets of her worn leather jacket, the cool evening air brushing against her exposed arms. She turned her head slightly toward Mel, her expression cautious, as if testing the waters before diving in. “What was she like? You know… growing up with her?”
Mel’s stride faltered, her heels clicking softly against the cobblestones before she recovered with her usual grace. The question was expected, perhaps inevitable, but it still hit with the force of unspoken memories. “Ambessa?” she asked, though the answer was clear. Her golden eyes flicked toward Vi, narrowing slightly as she searched for the intent behind the question.
“Yeah,” Vi confirmed, her voice quieter this time, the words carrying the weight of something deeper. She nudged a loose piece of trash with the toe of her boot, her gaze dropping momentarily before rising to meet Mel’s. “I mean, I know what she was like with me. But with you? As your mother?”
Mel sighed softly, the sound almost lost in the soft hum of the city. Her steps slowed as she mulled over the question, her composure faltering just enough for Vi to notice. They had reached a quieter part of the city, where the vibrant buzz of Piltover’s markets faded into the more refined calm of the upper districts. A wrought-iron bench nestled beneath a streetlamp caught her eye, its intricate patterns casting long, web-like shadows on the ground. Mel gestured to it, a silent invitation for Vi to sit. She joined her, her movements deliberate and poised, though the heaviness of the topic lingered in the air.
“She was…” Mel began, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words. Her golden eyes grew distant, fixed on something beyond the city skyline—a memory only she could see. “Formidable. Ambessa wasn’t just my mother—she was a force of nature. She commanded respect, demanded it, in everything she did. Strength, strategy, discipline… those weren’t just values to her. They were the only way to live.”
Vi leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees as she listened intently. The faint glow of her mechanical arm reflected off her boots, casting soft, rhythmic pulses of light with each subtle movement. It was a quiet reminder of everything she carried—physical and emotional. “Sounds like she didn’t leave much room for anything else,” Vi said quietly, her tone tinged with a mixture of bitterness and understanding.
Mel’s lips curved into a faint, almost bitter smile. “No, she didn’t. She loved through her expectations, her demands. If you weren’t meeting her standards, you weren’t worth her time. At least, that’s how it felt. Every word of praise, every small acknowledgment, had to be earned. And even then, it was fleeting, conditional.”
Vi’s brow furrowed, her jaw tightening as she absorbed Mel’s words. She had known Ambessa as a captor, the woman who had stripped her down and reforged her into something unrecognizable. But hearing about her as a mother painted an even more complex picture, one that stirred a mix of emotions Vi didn’t know how to untangle. Anger simmered just beneath the surface, but it was laced with something else—an echo of the twisted bond she had felt for the woman who had called her “daughter.”
“Did she ever… y’know, care?” Vi asked hesitantly, her voice softer now, almost as if she were afraid of the answer. “Like, in a way that felt real?”
Mel hesitated, her hands brushing against the gold trim of her coat as her gaze dropped momentarily. The question seemed to unearth something buried deep within her, something she hadn’t fully allowed herself to confront. “I think she did,” Mel said finally, her voice quieter now, tinged with a vulnerability that Vi rarely heard from her. “In her own way. But it was always tangled up with control. She cared when it served her goals, when it aligned with her vision. There were moments—fleeting ones—when it felt genuine. When she called me her daughter or shielded me from her harsher side.”
Mel’s expression darkened slightly, a shadow passing over her features as she continued. “But those moments were rare. And they were always followed by something to remind me she wasn’t just my mother. She was a general, a tactician, someone who saw people as pieces on a board. Even me.”
Vi nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to her hands as her mechanical fingers flexed unconsciously, the faint hum of the gemstone embedded in her arm filling the silence between them. “Guess we had that in common,” she muttered, her tone laced with bitterness. “She called me her daughter, too. Said I was ‘perfect.’ But it wasn’t about me—it was about what I could do for her.”
Mel’s eyes softened as she looked at Vi, her posture shifting ever so slightly, as though the weight of their shared experience had drawn them closer. “It wasn’t about us,” she said gently, her voice carrying the kind of quiet certainty that only came from hard-earned understanding. “It was always about her.”
The words lingered between them, heavy and unspoken until now. For a moment, neither of them spoke, their shared understanding settling over them like a shadow. The late afternoon sun had begun to dip lower, casting long streaks of gold and amber across the cobblestone streets.
Vi shifted in her seat, her shoulders pulling tight as the tension in the air grew heavier. Her mechanical hand flexed reflexively on her lap, the faint glow of the embedded gemstone intensifying with each passing second. She stared at Mel, her eyes unwavering, determined to get an answer. “What happened to her?” she asked finally, her voice low but charged with a restless energy. “Is she… still alive?”
Mel’s expression faltered for a brief moment, the faintest flicker of discomfort crossing her composed features. Her eyes darted away, focusing on the intricate shadows cast by the streetlamp nearby. “Vi…” she began cautiously, her voice measured. “Some things are better left unanswered.”
“That’s not good enough, Mel.” Vi’s voice sharpened, her mechanical hand curling into a fist. The scars along her forearm began to emit a faint glow, the light growing brighter as her frustration mounted. “I’ve been sitting with this—living with this—for over a year. I need to know. Is she out there? Is she alive? Or is she—” She stopped herself, the words catching in her throat. Her jaw clenched as she looked away, swallowing hard. “I can’t keep moving forward if I don’t know.”
Mel’s fingers tightened subtly against the edge of the bench, her composed mask slipping ever so slightly. She inhaled deeply, holding the breath for a moment before letting it out slowly. Turning her gaze back to Vi, she met her eyes, her expression steady but unreadable.
“Vi,” Mel said softly, her voice calm but unyielding. “I can’t give you that answer.”
“Why not?” Vi snapped, her mechanical arm suddenly pulsing brighter, the faint hum of its energy rising in pitch. The scars across her skin glowed in tandem, their jagged lines tracing over her arm and neck like molten fire. She leaned forward, her frustration boiling over. “You know something, don’t you? You’ve known all along. Why can’t you just tell me?”
Mel’s eyes softened, though her tone remained firm. “Because I’m not sure you’re ready to hear it,” she said carefully, her gaze never leaving Vi’s. “And maybe… I’m not ready to tell you.”
Vi let out a harsh breath, her hands—both flesh and mechanical—tightening into fists. The bench creaked faintly under the pressure as she forced herself to sit back, trying to rein in the storm building inside her. “Not ready?” she echoed, her voice low but trembling with emotion. “Do you have any idea what it’s like? To carry this—this weight—without knowing if she’s out there? If she’s planning something? If she’s…” She trailed off, her voice breaking slightly as her fists loosened. “If she’s just gone.”
Mel reached out, her hand brushing gently against Vi’s scarred forearm. The glow dimmed slightly at her touch, the tension in Vi’s arm easing just enough for her fingers to unclench. “Vi,” Mel said softly, her voice carrying a warmth, “I understand. More than you think. But this… this isn’t just about you. It’s about both of us. And when the time is right—when we’re both ready—we’ll face it together.”
Vi stared at her for a long moment, her eyes flickering with a mixture of anger, confusion, and something that might have been hope. Finally, she exhaled sharply, leaning back against the bench. “Yeah. Okay,” she muttered, though her tone was still clipped, her frustration far from resolved.
Mel’s hand lingered on Vi’s arm for a moment longer before she pulled back, her fingers brushing lightly against the glowing scars as if grounding both of them. “I promise, Vi,” she said quietly, her voice steady but carrying the weight of her conviction. “When the time comes, you’ll get the answers you’re looking for. But until then… let’s take this one step at a time.”
Vi nodded stiffly, her jaw tightening as she looked away. The city’s distant hum filled the silence between them, punctuated by the occasional laughter of children or the sharp calls of street vendors. The world continued to move around them, its rhythm indifferent to the storm that still raged quietly inside her.