BITE THE HAND / PROLOGUE
whimsywitchess

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LIKE A BLOOD GORGED PARASITE, Zaun thrives in the dark, cobwebbed corners that go untouched by virtue.

Traces of the Undercity can be mirrored in all the world's deformities and defects: the city is perpetually swept under the rug, no more than a cockroach scuttling underfoot an apocalypse. It has been eternally overshadowed by the gossamer wings of Piltover, neglected by the progress they preach on those sun bleached streets. When factoring in the illicit industries and asphyxiating factory smog, it's almost impossible to fathom that Zaun was ever destined for something as intangible as greatness.

No, not when the heart of Zaun pulsates with Shimmer filled arteries — injected with impurity and yet to be absolved of the sin. It's a dog-eat-dog world down here in the underground, a gaping schism in the wake of Piltovan perfection. An empire built upon the pillars of black market deals and shady side businesses; it's unheard of for someone to go longer than a week without doing something that they're not proud of.

Though, who can truly be faulted for that? At the end of the day, everyone this side of the tracks is just fighting tooth and claw for their own survival.

   Enter Enyo; a star-crossed Zaunite who has suffered through it all. The Undercity wolfed down her innocence and picked her childhood apart at the raggedy seams, housing her in muddy street corners and brothels that dusted her mutilations with powdery makeup. It has taken the sight in her left eye, as well as her dignity and good nature ( if you could ever call it that ) . The city of iron and steel is a home to her as much as it is a foe, so she finds herself imprisoned by the manacles of her own stubbornness — too prideful to seek retribution amongst the Topsiders that see her as no more than street rat scum.

    At this stage in her life, she's adapted to breathe the pollution, live the pollution. It's grown on her by now — that twisted Undercity charm — prickling across her flesh like a sick disease or some kind of burning scar tissue. And perhaps it was the same intoxication all those years ago, when the corruption of Zaun made Enyo realise that doesn't care for revolution; she just cares for revenge.

A woman scorned, she wants to see the men who did this to her suffer. She wants them to grovel at her feet, to exsanguinate under her glare and paint her palms in blood until she feels whole again. Maybe revenge is a fool's game, but the idea of mercy makes her anatomy crumble under the weight of her own agnosticism. She doesn't want to feel virtuous any more, she only wants her retribution.

And by Janna, she'll get it, whether or not it all ends with the ruby pulp of their flesh wedged betwixt her canines. Taking a life may have daunted her once but she'll never let it weigh her down again — or, so she tells herself to keep the guilt at bay.

   Enyo once swore to the peeling plaster of her bedroom ceiling that she would tear down the elites that dug her this deep into her own demise. In the same breath, she promised herself that she would free her cousin from his indenture at the godforsaken brothel that once had her under lock and key. She swore to shatter his shackles with the enamel and gore she'll have stripped from the gums of their incarcerators. Freedom will find the pair like starved vultures to carrion, tasting just bitter as all the spilled blood which paved the way for their long lost devastation.

    Enyo has never been the type to seek help from anyone. For a good long while, she believed it to be the source of her success. She has always had a tendency to work alone, a mere shadow under the dingy glow of the flickering street lamps, but life has a funny way of changing things for the worst.

    After slaughtering a wealthy Piltovian businessman who had signed the papers for her damnation, Enyo escaped by the skin of her teeth and now she has to keep her head down more than ever. The price for her capture is plastered to every street corner, a bounty echoed in the alleyway cobwebs and shattered tubes of shimmer that rest in every crevice of the Undercity. There's nowhere to hide from her past, not with the syllables of her name chattering between the ribs of street dogs and echoing in the law's ears. She's always worked alone. . .

   Though, with her back wedged into a corner, she's in no place to turn down an opportunity.

    Silco's olive branch is rotten, yet Enyo finds herself venturing across the decaying bark with fervour. Gripping onto his outstretched palm like her life depends on it, clawing her nails into the raw flesh as if he'll pull away like the rest of them. She knows that nothing good can come from this alleged generosity, but what other choice does she truly have? Doing his dirty work in exchange for safety and a chance to free her cousin forever almost seems too good to be true. . .

    She doesn't care anymore. She's desperate to satiate her growing taste for vengeance. For herself, for her cousin within the confines of his rich silks and heady perfumes. They can go anywhere from here, far away from the brothels and their decaying city of origin. She'll claw them out of the belly of the beast if it's the last thing she ever does — untethering them from the indentures that have haunted them ever since they fell into the wrong hands as orphaned children.

    Hope dawns on the horizon. For the first time in years, Enyo believes that the opportunity for a second chance has finally come to her, born from the ashes of destruction and the dancing flames that lick against her skin. Freedom feels hot on her heels and she's relishing in the burn, grinning in victory as the flesh begins to blister. For once, the ache feels rewarding.

    Only, in all her life, Enyo never would've that her salvation would present itself in the form of Silco's right hand woman. A factor that's only going to spiral her into further disorder. . .

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—  E N Y O —

Voice Claim; Lake Bell

—  A B E L  —

Voice Claim; Justice Smith

— S E V I K A —

Voice Claim; Amirah Vanh

AUTHORS NOTE :

soooo i caved and finally wrote an arcane fic

this is painfully unedited and it's currently 2am so there's a chance that this is just gibberish but yk what it is what it is my lovelies

the brainrot is so bad i made it all the way to act two before crashing out and beginning to write up a draft 😔😔 idk how frequent updates for this will be but enjoy my brainchild for however long it'll last!!!! hugs n kisses tysm for clicking on this car crash

CONTENT WARNING :

violence, injury detail, (fictional) drug misuse, implied sexual content, mentioned prostitution

DISCLAIMER:

i do not own arcane or league of legends. all rights are reserved to riot games. i only own my original characters and any canon divergent plot lines.

i've never acc played league of legends and i have no intention to play it tbh, so if i get any of the lore wrong pls do not crucify me i don't really know what i'm yapping about 😍

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