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In the years where little girls would dream about their wedding days, little Vi spends them hustling, earning her and her sister’s keep. She wastes no time wishing for a Prince(ss) Charming to sweep her off her feet, or for frilly dresses, or for a mother and father who would bawl at giving their little girl away.
Because frankly, Vi’s not that kind of girl. She doesn’t want a saviour, she is her own, and her sister’s at that. She doesn’t want a hero; that role is and always will belong to Vander. And she certainly never wants a Prince or Princess Charming; they would never understand what it’s like to come from an environment as fetid and hungry as the Undercity.
While none of this changes after she meets Caitlyn, Vi does learn that not all Topsiders are bobbleheaded snobs whose brains are filled with fluff and lies. She learns that Caitlyn herself tried to imagine a wedding once, between herself and Jayce, but was so turned off by the prospect that she never allowed herself to daydream about weddings and proposals again.
Well, until their own.
Vi takes a moment to admire the titanium ring on her left ring finger, a gift she knows came from Powder, not Jinx. Who else could capture Vi so perfectly? Blue and pink tendrils intertwine delicately along the frame, finished by a pair of etched firelights that glow faintly in time to her pulse.
“You like the gift?”
“Are you kidding me? I love it.”
Jinx hops down from the ceiling rail she had perched herself on.
“You ready for a night out, sister?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
A night out with her sister. Vi hasn’t allowed herself to dream of this moment again since her first few months in prison.
Sure, it took a lot of planning (and pinky promises on Jinx’s end not to cause damage to property or harm to innocents), but at the end of the day, Vi would trade almost anything for more moments like this.
First, a joyride from Piltover back to their home state of Zaun. Vi doesn’t ask where the convertible Jinx brought along comes from, and Jinx doesn’t say. Instead, they scream and whoop like little girls as they speed along the Lanes, wind rushing through their hair.
They make it to The Last Drop in record time, and because Jinx is with her, almost nobody tries to bother Vi. The ones that do get flipped on their asses with a gun shoved in their face, courtesy of the sister pair.
On the way in, Vi sees Sevika in the corner of the room and they exchange terse nods. Sevika goes back to playing her cards, already having been forewarned about this unlikely twist of events. So long Jinx and Vi didn’t make a fuss, it was none of her business what they did in their spare time.
When they reach the bar, the bartender nervously doles out a round on the house.
“Thanks Chuck,” Jinx says, then knocks back her shot as if it’s water.
The bartender looks to try to correct her, then deflates, as if giving up.
Vi looks on upon this interaction with interest. “You’re a regular here, Jinx?” she asks, downing her own drink in one smooth motion.
“As regular as regular can be!” Jinx replies with a snort. “Hit us with the conga line, Chuck. Fuck us up . My sister over here’s got something to celebrate, and boy are we going to celebrate!”
Jinx whoops and throws her hands up in the hair, spinning wildly on her chair. Meanwhile, the bartender gets to work on the new order, sloshing about various liquids into a line of shots.
“Weren’t we driving, Jinx?” Vi asks, hesitating to take another drink.
Jinx doesn’t have the same apprehension, double fisting shots as if they were nothing. “Lighten up Vi! This is nowhere near enough to mess up my driving. Did sipping wine and eating grapes Topside turn you into a lightweight?”
Vi snorts. “Lightweight? Hardly.” She proves this by matching Jinx’s pace, hammering shot after shot.
Jinx cackles. “Oh we’re just getting started. Pour ‘em up, Chuck! And a round for everyone here, on me! For the return of the prodigal daughter! May she spoil the noble blood with bottom side grease!”
The patrons of The Last Drop roar and whoop, and as Vi takes it all in, she almost feels at home again. Although the den is grittier and darker than memory serves her, she spots the scuff marks left behind by old bar brawls, and the burns on the countertop from Vander’s pipe, and the fading chalk lines from where she, Mylo, Claggor and Powder would line up to take their heights.
“Maybe some things don’t change,” Vi quietly muses.
“Huh? What’re you mumbling to yourself for?” Jinx says, snapping Vi from her reverie. “I didn’t bring you here to reminisce. You’re here to get stone cold wasted , and I’ll be damned if you leave here feeling fuzzy from anything but liquor. Chuck! BRING OUT THE RYNCOL!”
“Ryncol?”
Ryncol fucks Vi up beyond comprehension. For a solid hour, she becomes a blabbering drunk in The Lost Drop, arm wrestling anyone interested — who was everyone — until she can barely feel her arm.
They only leave The Last Drop for their next location when Vi bulldozes her way out the entrance to puke on the side of the streets.
Behind her, Jinx snorts. “See whaddid I tell ya? Lightweight. Topsider booze made you all soft.”
Vi wipes the remaining puke from her face with the back of her hand. “No, that Ryncol shit is just poison, Jinx. How do you even drink that?”
“With a straw,” she answers matter-of-factly. She throws Vi a bottle of water, which Vi barely catches. “Anyway, you good emptying out your insides? We have more places to be.”
“Yeah yeah,” Vi grumbles, taking a swig from her water. “Let’s go.”
“Next stop, karaoke,” Jinx proclaims, bursting into the facility as if she owns the place. Maybe she does, Vi thinks, because she sees that the receptionists’ desk and some of the walls are scrawled with all-too-familiar paint art.
Or maybe she doesn’t, because Jinx marks whatever she can claim, cracked counters and drywall being no exception.
“Hey David!—”
“It’s Gideon—”
“—Yeah right, get us a room David, pronto! It’s a special day for a special girl, and I won’t have you ruining it cause you’re feeling a little slow tonight!”
Vi watches amusedly as David-Gideon hurriedly ushers them into a room. One that, like the karaoke joint itself, is dingy and in a moderate state of disrepair. The machine is an old model, likely scrounged from whatever Topsiders have tossed away and refurbished, and the couches look battered and torn, stuffing barely contained by a mismatch of patches.
It’s certainly nowhere near the glitz and glamour of Piltover’s karaoke bars, but that’s precisely the reason why Jinx looks so at home when she plops down on the leftmost seat and begins rummaging through the song list.
“I’m going to sing my song,” she states gleefully, kicking her feet back and forth as the karaoke machine whirs to life and the first note begins to play.
Vi can’t help but watch in a little bit of disbelief as her little sister — her little Powpow, all grown up now — belts the notes to something she’s vaguely heard before.
It’s been so long since she’s seen Powder like this; genuinely happy. The way her eyes light up, even unnaturally pink as they are now, is a sight to behold. Her nose wrinkles adorably as she tries to hit a note a little too high; the way she strains on her tiptoes and then starts bouncing to the beat, her impossibly long braids trailing behind her like two pom-poms.
Her voice has matured, Vi notes, watching her sister contemplatively. Her voice, even though joyful, is melodically haunting; each note reverberates in Vi’s head, sticking painfully to her chest, straining with loneliness even when not alone.
Vi wants to reach out, wants to say she’s sorry, wants to do a lot of things. Cry. Scream. Punch something, or maybe someone. Maybe herself.
“What’re you staring for, weirdo? Song’s over. Your turn,” Jinx says, tossing Vi the mic.
Vi doesn’t do any of those things.
Instead, reaches over to pick up the catalogue and tries to find something that could speak back.
And sings.
The rest of the night passes in a blur. There’s more greasy junk food and copious amounts of liquor as they belt their hearts out to one another and to themselves. They share at least one duet before they get kicked out because Jinx decides to set off the colour bombs she had planted in celebration (“It’s not property damage if nothing gets destroyed!”).
Vi is ready to call it a night here. She’s had probably the best time in a long time, maybe ever, if she thinks honestly to herself. For once, it feels like she’s reconnected with her sister, and Vi could never ask for anything more than what she’s been given, after all that they’ve been through.
“Just one more stop,” Jinx insists, guiding Vi over and through the rooftops of the suburbs towards a dilapidated building just a few blocks down from The Last Drop.
Once inside, Jinx guides them through the rubble and decay until they reach the Northwest corner where a kitchen should have been, now replaced by soot and sand. She kneels down to brush aside the dust until a handle is found, then yanks on it, revealing a hidden stairway leading down into pitch black.
Without a word, Jinx begins her descent into the abyss. Before she can take more than a few steps, however, Vi reaches out and grabs her by the arm.
“Wait! Jinx, is this safe?”
Jinx snorts and shrugs Vi’s hand away. “Is anything ever safe?” she replies, then disappears below.
Vi sighs. Left alone with nothing but the wreckage of a home around her, she follows Jinx down the stairway. Vi cautiously feels each step down with a tentative foot until she reaches the bottom.
“Jinx?” she says, her voice echoing in the darkness.
The sound of machinery whirs, and then light emerges from the centre of the room, flooding the ceiling with a sea of stars, pinprick and beautiful, their infinite light twinkling brightly against the silken twilight canvas of the night sky. Wisps of blue smoke begin to slowly emit from a corner in the room, bathing their feet in a sea of ink that makes Vi feel as if she were floating in space.
“Powder…” Vi breathes.
“Oh, don’t get sappy on me,” Jinx replies, coming out from the fog to stand in front of Vi, backlit by the stars. “I did this ‘cause I wanted to.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Jinx coaxes the smoke around them, its tendrils swirling around them in an intimate caress. “Remember what you said to me?”
It takes Vi a moment with her alcohol-addled mind, but once she remembers, she remembers exactly. “That I’d find you.”
Jinx nods. She gently cups Vi’s face in her hands, meeting teary eyes. “So long we’re under the same night sky, you’ll always be my sister.”
Vi chokes back a sob. Lunging forward, she grasps Jinx in a tight hug. “... I love you, Powpow,” she whispers huskily.
Jinx hums. not quite reciprocating the hug. “I still don’t think the name Kiramman works for you.”
Vi laughs wetly. “Tell me about it. But it’s just a name. Like you said, no matter what happens, we’ll always be sisters.”
“... You swear?” Jinx softly asks, her hands slowly creeping up Vi’s back, pantomiming the hug.
“I promise.”
Vi thinks she hears a sniffle but doesn't say anything about it.
In here, with her sister wrapped in her arms, she is content.
They stay in that room until the alarm Vi sets for dawn goes off. The illusion of normalcy between two sisters is broken in that moment, and the sea of ink turns into a deluge as Jinx takes the opportunity to set the dial to max and take off.
“See you later!” Jinx exclaims with a laugh, back to her old self. Even Vi can’t help but chuckle, scrambling for the knobs and switches Jinx kind of sort of taught her to use.
There’s no point going home now; the apartment would be empty, as Jayce has already warned her that she wouldn’t see Caitlyn until the ceremony.
On the dawn of a new day, Vi has everything she could ever wish for.
All there is to do now is to get over there and marry the damn girl.
So she does.