𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫: ballad of a lost girl

╰┈➤ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: love has lost the plot

Are you able to mourn a home you've never known?

Aviva would tell you the answer is yes—she had spent her entire life doing exactly that.

She often wondered how long Silco had expected her to believe the lie that he was her father. Likely until she figured out how genetics worked—or perhaps longer. Much, much longer.

The truth was, Silco had never been her father in any real sense. Not in the way she longed for, not in the way that left a hollow ache beneath her ribs. He had taken her in, stitched her into the web of Zaun, but there was always a shadow of distance between them—a gap too wide for blood to bridge. She could feel it in every word he didn't say, every glance that lingered just a second too long before shifting away.

She had tried, though. God, she had tried. Clinging to the pieces of something familiar, desperate for a sense of belonging. But Silco's love was as broken as the city they called home, fierce and flawed, held together by wires and spite rather than tenderness.

Aviva mourned the life she never had—the one stolen from her before she even knew it existed. The soft laughter of a mother who never rocked her to sleep, the warmth of a father who would have taught her how to be gentle, how to be loved.

Instead, she was molded by the darkness, shaped by the fires of Zaun's decay. And while she bore the weight of her scars with a brittle strength, it was loneliness that clung to her like a second skin. A haunting specter she couldn't outrun.

Yet still, she lived. Not because she wanted to—no, not out of some grand hope for a better future—but because survival was all she knew. And in that survival, she carried a secret: a fragile desire to be more than the monster they all saw. A desire to be seen, truly seen, beyond the masks they wore. Even if it meant losing what little fragments of herself she had left.

Aviva wasn't the best person. Actually, by most standards, she was awful. Ruthless, unpredictable, destructive, manipulative —there was a long list of sins with her name attached, and she wore them all like a crown. She knew how people saw her: a monster stitched together by tragedy and an unfortunate product of her environment. And they weren't wrong. She was cruel when she needed to be—and sometimes just because it was easier than being kind. But beneath the chaos, beneath the rage, there was a sliver of something fragile, something she refused to let anyone see.

It was needed honestly. For her to be something.

How do you define nothingness?

Quite simple, really.

Aviva.

If you flipped through a dictionary, if you searched for that cold, empty word—nothing—her picture would be there. Her ghostly white locks cascading down her back, sharp and severe, a stark contrast against the dull backdrop of the world. Her golden eyes, hollow and piercing, would stare back at you, demanding a recognition she would never receive.

Nothing—she was the embodiment of it. Not as a void to be filled, but as a haunting presence, lingering in the spaces where life was supposed to thrive. A girl stripped of her history, her identity, her place in the world. A girl whose existence existed solely in the margins, a reflection seen in broken glass and forgotten corners of memory.

Her presence was nothing more than a shadow—a fleeting glimpse of potential lost, left behind in the chaos of a life that had never truly begun. A reminder that even the most vibrant souls could be reduced to hollow echoes, the weight of nothingness settling heavily in their bones.

As awful as she was, at least it was something she could define. Awful. A sharp, biting word that clung to her like a second skin—ruthless, manipulative, destructive. It was a role she played with ease, a mask she'd perfected over the years to survive the world's indifference. But now, with Isha in her care, that defining word began to feel heavier than ever.

She worried—terrified, even—that her awfulness might be rubbing off on the girl. That little by little, Isha would learn the same cruel lessons she had. That the manipulative, vindictive woman she'd become would seep into Isha's innocence, staining her with a shadow she couldn't escape from. Isha deserved better than that. She deserved someone who could guide her with kindness, someone who wouldn't leave her hollowed out and bitter. Not someone like Aviva—a girl who, in every sense of the word, was broken and selfish and selfishly destructive.

The thought churned in her mind, relentless and unyielding. She couldn't be the person Isha needed. She wasn't fit to be a role model—not someone whose idea of survival was to claw her way to the top by any means necessary. And yet, no matter how much she wished to change, the weight of her past pressed down harder with each passing day. Would Isha grow up to mirror her? To become someone defined by the same cold, calculating cruelty? That was the last thing she wanted.

Though at this point. It might've been too late.

𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 the hideout, the familiar scent of oil and smoke hitting her nose. The dim light barely cut through the haze of chaos that filled the room. Gears, wires, and blueprints were scattered everywhere, but it wasn't the mess that caught her attention—it was Jinx, pacing in frantic circles, her eyes darting to every corner like a caged animal. Her movements were sharp, erratic, and her muttering low and incessant.

"What are you doing?" Aviva asked, her voice sharper than intended as she crossed her arms.

Jinx didn't stop, didn't even look up. "Playing a game," she said, distracted, her words rushed as she swept a stack of blueprints off a table, sending them fluttering to the floor. She didn't seem to notice.

Aviva tilted her head, a suspicious gleam in her eyes. "With who?"

"Isha?" Jinx called out, her voice a pitch too high, the edges of desperation bleeding through. She spun toward a corner of the lair, crouched low, and peered beneath an overturned table. "Isha, c'mon! Quit hiding already. It's not funny anymore."

Aviva's eyes narrowed, her arms uncrossing as the weight of realization settled over her. "She's not playing hide and seek, is she?" Her voice softened, losing its sharpness as she studied Jinx.

Jinx froze, crouched low, her fingers tightening on the edge of the table. "Of course she is," she said, her tone too light, too forced. "She always hides in the dumbest spots, you know? Under the bed, in the vents. It's her thing. Her game."

Aviva took a slow step forward, her voice quiet but firm. "Jinx."

"No, really," Jinx interrupted, straightening up abruptly. She gestured wildly around the room, her grin a poor imitation of its usual self. "You know how she is! Sneaky little Isha. She's probably behind the boiler or—or—under that pile of junk over there." She laughed, but it cracked halfway through. "Just... just help me find her, okay?"

Aviva stared at her for a long moment, watching the way Jinx's hands shook as they fidgeted with a stray gear, the way her eyes kept darting to the corners of the room as if willing Isha to materialize.

Clasping her hands together, Aviva forced a smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Oh! Hide and seek! How fun! I'll help." Her voice was light, but her tone was deliberate, carefully walking the line between humoring Jinx and breaking through her denial.

Jinx's grin faltered, her eyes narrowing as if she were trying to decide whether Aviva was mocking her. "Don't you dare—"

"Let's start over here," Aviva said, ignoring her, as she moved toward the cluttered corner near Jinx's workbench. She crouched down, sifting through the mess, her movements slow and deliberate. "You said she hides in dumb spots, right? What about that vent over there? Checked it yet?"

Jinx hesitated, her bravado crumbling for just a moment before she spun around and rushed toward the vent. "Isha?" she called again, her voice softer now, almost trembling. "Come on, kiddo. I won't even be mad if you messed with my stuff. Just... come out."

The silence that followed was deafening. Jinx knelt by the vent, her hands gripping the edges as if she could will Isha to be there. When nothing happened, she let out a shaky laugh. "She's just messing with us," she muttered, more to herself than to Aviva. "She's probably waiting for the perfect moment to jump out and scare the crap out of me."

Aviva stood, brushing dust off her knees. She approached Jinx slowly, carefully. "Jinx... when did you last see her?"

Jinx didn't answer, her gaze fixed on the vent as if willing Isha to crawl out of it, laughing and grinning like nothing had happened.

The sound of heavy boots on metal grates broke the tense silence, and Sevika stumbled into the hideout, clutching her side. The flickering light overhead illuminated the trail of mechanical oil dripping from her damaged arm, leaving a dark, uneven stain on the floor.

"They got her," Sevika groaned, her voice strained but steady as she leaned against the doorway for support.

"What?" Jinx's head snapped around, her eyes wide and wild as she zeroed in on Sevika. The sharpness in her tone cut through the room like a blade.

"Topside raided the place," Sevika continued, grimacing as she adjusted her weight to her good arm. "Took everyone."

The words landed like a bomb, shattering whatever fragile thread of denial Jinx had been clinging to. Her breath hitched, and her hands flew to her head, clutching at her scalp as if she could physically hold her thoughts together. The room seemed to shrink around her, the walls pressing in as the familiar, sickly whispers began to creep into her ears.

Aviva froze for a second, Sevika's words slamming into her like a freight train. Took everyone. Her heart clenched, and the panic surged so violently she could feel it in her throat, threatening to choke her. Her mind raced, grasping at the edges of reason, while her breath hitched unevenly. No, no, no. Isha wasn't just "everyone." Isha was—

"Shut up, shut up, shut up..." Jinx's frantic muttering snapped her back into the moment, her blue-haired partner now rocking on the floor, fists tangled in her hair, her body trembling with the familiar chaos that always dragged her under.

Aviva's first instinct was to scream. To shout at Sevika. To tear through the streets herself. Anything but this. But she couldn't. Not now. Not with Jinx unraveling in front of her and Sevika's grim face confirming the weight of the situation. She felt that cold, sinking dread burrow deeper into her chest, but she pushed it down—deep enough to bury it. Someone had to keep it together.

Her voice was shaky but sharp as she whipped her head toward Sevika. "Where? Where did they take them?"

Sevika leaned against the doorway, grimacing as more oil leaked from her damaged arm. "Stillwater likely," she said, her voice clipped, strained. "It was a sweep. Big operation. Piltover doesn't do things halfway."

Aviva's breath quickened, and she blinked hard, forcing her thoughts to steady themselves. "And you didn't think to stop them?" she snapped, the edge in her tone a feeble mask for the quivering panic underneath.

Sevika shot her a withering glare. "I tried. Barely got out myself. You think I'd walk in here looking like this if I didn't?"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up..." Jinx's voice cut through the exchange, rising in pitch, her rocking becoming more erratic.

Aviva bit down on the urge to yell again. She dropped to her knees, inching closer to Jinx, her movements cautious, calculated, even though her insides were screaming. "Jinx," she said, her voice firmer now, trying to cut through the spiral. "Jinx, listen to me. We'll get her back. We'll figure this out. But you've got to focus. Right now, I need you to focus."

Jinx didn't respond, her muttering continuing, tears streaking her face as her nails scraped against her scalp.

"Jinx!" Aviva's voice cracked, and she reached out, hesitating just a fraction before grabbing Jinx's wrists. The sudden contact made Jinx jolt, her wide, glassy eyes snapping to Aviva as if she was seeing her for the first time.

"Look at me," Aviva said, forcing her tone to steady even as her own hands trembled. "We're going to fix this. Isha needs us, okay? But she doesn't need this. She doesn't need you like this. I need you to be with me."

Jinx stared at her, her chest heaving as her muttering slowed. Her eyes darted around the room, the hallucinations still clawing at her, but Aviva's grip kept her anchored.

Sevika shifted uncomfortably by the door, her injured arm hanging uselessly at her side. "If you're going to do something, you better do it fast," she said grimly. "They're not gonna keep a kid like Isha in holding for long. Piltover doesn't play nice with Zaunites."

Aviva shot Sevika a glare that could've curdled blood before turning back to Jinx. Her own fear was still gnawing at her, sharp and relentless, but she shoved it aside, shoving herself into the role she hated but knew she had to play. "Jinx," she whispered, her voice softer now, her hands squeezing Jinx's wrists gently. "We've got to move. Right now. For Isha."

Jinx's lip quivered, her gaze darting from Aviva's face to some invisible point beyond her shoulder, but slowly—painfully—she nodded.

Aviva exhaled shakily, the tightness in her chest easing just enough to allow her to breathe. "Good," she murmured, her voice thick. "We're going to fix this. Together."

As Jinx finally let her hands fall from her head, Aviva stood, pulling her up with her. Inside, she was barely holding on, her own panic clawing at the edges of her sanity. But outwardly, she straightened her spine, her jaw set with determination. Someone had to be the sane one. Someone had to hold this mess together. Even if it killed her.

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒!

Y'all weren't going to tell me I forgot to copy and paste a whole three paragraphs when I copied this from my notes to here?

So I didn't kill Sage Kami bc I didn't want to make Aviva like "Mary sue odd one out character". Because I thought Caitlyn's mom was the only one to die. No she wasn't apparently they just only really focused on her death. Shoulda killed Sage Kami :(

Also I saw a lot of people commenting on the fact that Aviva keeps falling Jinx 'Powder', if I ever finish this book it'll be addressed but you can probably guess why that might be.

Thank you for 40k reads! Love hearing from you (I crave your validation.) (Which is why I felt bad after that nail polish chapter when I tried to make it more suggestive for yall and it wasn't well received.)