Chapter Text
Vi,
So, Inna’s first word was “shitfuck.”
Yeah. You read that right. First. Word. I hope you're proud of the linguistic legacy passing down through the family. She’s been hollering it at everything—birds, her breakfast, my boots. It’s like living with a very tiny, angry sailor. She’s turning one soon, by the way. Which is wild. She’s growing so fast I can barely keep up—walking, climbing, swearing like she’s got a tavern to run.
Theo’s very invested in the whole birthday thing. He made her a card. It’s mostly finger paint and chaos, but hey—she can’t read anyway, so it’s perfect. He also made you a picture. Said I had to send it. It’s a portrait. Of you. He really captured your essence—especially the way one of your eyes is way bigger than the other and your nose kind of looks like it lost a fight… Maybe you should actually start listening next time Ekko tells you to stop blocking punches with your face. Apologies in advance for the sequins. He decorated it himself, and I think half the craft box died for this art. You’ll probably be shaking glitter out of your boots for months. Suffer.
Things are… good. This new port’s quiet, and for once, I don’t hate it. The locals don’t ask too many questions. It doesn’t reek of rotting fish and betrayal like Bilgewater, so we’re probably sticking around a bit. If you feel like writing back—now’s your chance. We’ll actually be here long enough to get your letter before we’ve vanished into the wind again.
Freya’s still towering and judgmental in her usual quietly terrifying way. Theo stuck a party hat on her the other day—it was mostly his idea, I barely even helped, honestly—but she just stared at me for five solid minutes like she was considering murder. She hasn’t said a word about it since, but I’m pretty sure I’m on borrowed time (How does she always know?).
Ekko wants to know if you ever got that last stack of diagrams he sent. He’s been driving me slowly insane re-checking everything like a man possessed, muttering about calibration and energy transference like the engine’s going to sprout legs and walk off if he stops. It's almost endearing. Almost. For the sake of my sanity, pretend you’re impressed with him.
Your coat-rack girlfriend—sorry, wife—still makes me squint. I don’t get it. You married her. Like, married. Why? Never mind, don’t answer that. I’m sure there’s a reason, and I probably won’t like it, so keep it to yourself. Everything still fine over there? Or is Piltover still pretending the sky’s falling just because the wine’s expensive?
Anyway. Write something back. The kid will cry if you don’t. (Probably. I might too. Hard to say.)
—Jinx
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The town unfurled beneath a haze of golden light—stone walls sun-warmed and dappled in salt-slicked moss, narrow alleys winding like veins through the hillside, and rooftops layered in uneven shingles that sloped toward the sea. The scent of ocean brine mingled with crushed herbs and woodsmoke, settling into Jinx’s senses like something unfamiliar and almost too calm.
It was quiet here. Not silent—just… settled.
And for once, she didn’t hate it.
Inna wriggled against her hip, gummy fingers tugging relentlessly at a lock of Jinx’s hair. A stubborn tress had been captured, twisted around pudgy knuckles and occasionally pulled into a drool-drenched gnaw. Jinx let her chew. It wasn’t worth the fight, and the kid would probably drop it the second she found something louder or shinier.
Ekko walked just ahead, his hand curled around Theo’s—steady, anchoring. Their son was doing that half-skip, half-walk thing again, always teetering between stillness and motion. His free hand kept fiddling with the strap of his satchel, even though it was empty. A badge of adventure, more than necessity. He was all jittery energy and wide eyes today, absorbing every creak of cart wheels and every birdcall like it might disappear if he didn’t memorize it fast enough.
Behind them, Freya padded along in slow, deliberate strides. She dwarfed the townspeople they passed, a broad silhouette of muscle and fur that caught nearly every glance—and every second glance after that. The weight of her presence didn’t just draw attention; it quieted it. Conversations dulled, curious whispers swirled behind hands. Not one person dared approach.
She was good at that. Intimidating by existing. A shield they didn’t have to raise.
Jinx glanced back at her once. Freya’s gaze was already scanning the road ahead, her tail flicking in a rhythm only she understood. Her posture was relaxed, but her eyes weren’t resting. Nothing ever really escaped her.
“Quiet little place,” Ekko murmured under his breath, slowing slightly so they walked shoulder to shoulder.
“Too quiet,” Jinx said, adjusting Inna’s weight. The toddler gave a shrill squeal as a seagull flapped low overhead, legs kicking against Jinx’s side. “Feels like something’s gonna pop out and bite us.”
Ekko gave a small laugh, but it was tired at the edges. “You always say that.”
“Yeah. Because I’m usually right.”
They drifted down a side street lined with stalls, where linen awnings rippled in the breeze and hand-painted signs advertised everything from dried herbs to chipped cookware. It wasn’t a market trip—not officially. Just a walk. Getting a feel for things.
But it was the scent that stopped them.
Fried oil, sharp spice, a hint of tangy batter—it was unmistakable. Jinx slowed, nostrils flaring slightly as her head turned.
Funnel cakes.
Zaunite, funnel cakes.
She hadn’t smelled that in years. Not real ones.
Ekko noticed too. He shifted toward the stall instinctively, curiosity flickering across his face.
A stocky man behind the table grinned, flipping one of the cakes in its pan. “Caught your attention, huh? Not often folks recognize the scent around here.”
“It’s familiar,” Ekko said, careful.
The man nodded. “Zaunite recipe. Close as I can get it, anyway. Learned it from my neighbor’s grandmother—she came over after the war, settled down here. Lotta folks like her. Didn’t want to stay caught between Piltie politics and whatever Zaun calls stability these days.”
Jinx’s mouth pulled tight. She didn’t say anything.
“They keep mostly to themselves,” the vendor continued. “But good folks. They’ve brought decent food. And better music.”
She smiled thinly. Ekko murmured a polite “thanks,” and they moved on.
The scent clung to her clothes as they walked. Inna had finally released her hair and was now pawing at the silver clasps on her vest, babbling to herself. But Jinx’s thoughts had drifted. The knot in her gut had coiled tighter. She hadn’t realized how tense her shoulders were until Ekko brushed a hand along her spine.
“You alright?” he asked softly.
“Yeah,” she lied.
A few turns later, the street opened into a stone-walled courtyard. The playground was small—wooden beams worn smooth by years of use, a sagging rope swing swaying lazily in the breeze, a crooked slide bolted to the side of a climbing post. But it was enough.
Children ran through the dust, shrieking with laughter, chasing each other in loops and stumbling over their own feet.
Theo clung closer to Ekko’s side, his grip visibly tightening as they paused by the edge of the courtyard. He wasn’t watching the other kids—he was studying them. Longing pressed into the lines of his face, unsure and aching. Jinx didn’t say anything, just looked sideways at Ekko and gave him a small nudge with her elbow.
Ekko crouched down beside their son, voice low and warm. “Hey, bud. You wanna go play?”
Theo hesitated. He glanced at the kids, then at Inna, then back at the playground like the distance between them was a canyon.
“We’ll be right here,” Ekko promised. “You’ll see us the whole time.”
Theo shifted on his feet. He looked up at Jinx.
She smiled softly. “Go on.”
His feet dragged at first, slow and unsure, but he reached the edge of the playground. He stood off to the side for a minute or two—watching, uncertain—until a girl waved him over and pointed at the climbing ropes. Hesitantly, he moved toward her. A few minutes later, he laughed.
Jinx’s chest clenched unexpectedly.
“He’s all legs lately,” she murmured.
“Grows another inch every time I blink,” Ekko replied.
Freya stood to the side, arms crossed, gaze calm but alert. The wind tugged at her fur, and for a moment, Jinx watched the way she shifted to track Theo’s position without even turning her head. Nothing flashy, nothing grand. Just Freya’s quiet, steady presence—enough to press back against the creeping edge of anxiety that hadn’t quite let go since the vendor’s words.
Ekko gave a low whistle, and Theo came running, practically vibrating with excitement. Cheeks flushed and hair sticking to his forehead, he asked: “We don’t have to go yet, right? Please?”
Jinx hesitated.
That buzzing worry had been crawling at the edges of her thoughts since the food stall. It hadn’t gone away. She wanted to leave—to go back to the airship. But Theo’s face… gods, that face.
She looked at Ekko. He nodded.
“Yeah,” she said finally, adjusting Inna’s position and tucking the baby’s little fist back where it had slipped against her vest. “But not too long, bug. Your sister’s gonna be hungry soon, and I’m not exactly in the mood for a public boob show today.”
Theo beamed and took off running, legs pumping, his wild mop of hair bouncing with every step. He launched himself back into the game like he’d never left—like he’d always belonged here.
Jinx watched him go, arms wrapped loosely around Inna’s small frame. The other kids laughed as he rejoined them, their shrieks and footsteps echoing across the dusty lot. He’d been so hungry for this kind of joy—this kind of normal—and she hadn’t even realized how much until now.
He needed this. A place where he could just be a kid.
It didn’t make the feeling disappear.
But for now, it was quieter.
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The couch creaked softly as Jinx shifted, a small screwdriver clenched between her teeth and a delicate set of gears balanced in her palm. Her fingers worked with practiced ease, tweaking a tiny copper plate into place as sparks flicked briefly across the metal. The half-finished device in her lap clicked softly with every adjustment.
She didn’t look up when Ekko entered the room. Just nudged her legs higher in the air, giving him room to settle beneath them without a word.
He chuckled under his breath and dropped onto the cushions beside her. “Thanks for the invitation,” he muttered, catching her ankles and letting her legs drape across his lap. His hands found her feet immediately, thumbs pressing into the arches with lazy familiarity, the way he always did when the kids were finally asleep, and the house had gone soft and quiet. It’s a habit he picked up when she was first pregnant with Theo, and it seemed to stick.
Jinx let out a small hum of satisfaction, still not looking up. “Y’know, we’re getting dangerously domestic.”
Ekko raised an eyebrow, leaning his head against the back of the couch and tilting it toward her, eyes half-lidded as he watched her work. “Oh yeah?”
“Mmhm,” she said around the screwdriver, then removed it to smirk faintly. “Look at you. Massaging my feet like it’s your life’s calling. You sure you don’t have a weird thing for ‘em?”
Ekko laughed. “I mean, if I did, you’d know by now.”
Jinx grinned wider. “Yeah, well. Keep it up and I’m gonna start charging you for it.”
He made a show of pulling his hands away. “Should I stop then?”
Her eyes finally flicked up from the device—sharp and dry. “Don’t you even think about it.”
He laughed again, shaking his head and going right back to it, pressing his thumbs deeper in the way he knew she liked. They slipped into silence after that—comfortable and slow, the kind that only came with years of knowing someone so well your breath found its rhythm in theirs.
Ekko’s fingers kneaded absent-mindedly, and he watched her for a while, eyes soft. “Theo had a good time today.”
Jinx didn’t answer at first, just flicked a tiny switch and watched the gears turn once before jamming again. “Yeah,” she said finally, quiet. “He did.”
“He needed it.”
Her jaw worked slightly, lips pressing into a thin line. “He needs more than we’ve been able to give him for a while.”
“You’re giving him a hell of a lot more than either of us ever had.”
“Still,” she said, flicking the switch again harder than necessary. “This place better hold.”
Ekko was quiet a moment, rubbing slow circles into her heel. “Vendor get to you?”
Jinx didn’t answer right away. Just adjusted one of the gears again, then picked up a soldering pen. “Too many people here know what Zaun food tastes like.”
“Doesn’t mean they know what you look like.”
“They know what shimmer looks like.”
Ekko exhaled slowly. “We don’t know anything for sure yet.”
Jinx was quiet.
Ekko leaned forward slightly, catching her eyes. “It’s the best place we’ve found so far. Quiet, steady, good people, good air. No pirates, no gang wars, no enforcers. You don’t have to decide anything yet.”
She didn’t respond. Just soldered a connection and let the soft zap of metal filling metal answer for her.
“I know the instinct,” Ekko said gently, fingers still circling her arch. “But running every time something feels a little too familiar… it’s not the only way to keep them safe.”
Jinx swallowed hard, eyes still on her project. Her voice was low. “What if I can’t tell the difference?”
Ekko didn’t answer right away. He didn’t pretend to have a perfect solution. He just held her foot a little tighter and let her be quiet.
And Jinx, after a moment, just let him.
They sat in that quiet for a while—Ekko’s hands still idly working at the knots in her feet, Jinx's fingers moving with slower precision over her tiny contraption. Neither said much. They didn’t have to.
Eventually, the little device gave a satisfying click and began to hum softly in her lap, the gears finally turning in smooth tandem. Jinx grinned faintly, wiping a smudge of grease on the inside of her shirt. “Hah. Told you it’d work.”
Before she could admire it longer, Ekko reached over and plucked it from her hands, setting it gently on the coffee table. Her head snapped toward him, indignation already blooming sharp across her face. “Hey! Rude.”
But he was already moving—hands slipping beneath her thighs and giving a swift, playful tug that yanked her down in one smooth motion. She let out a startled yelp as her back hit the cushions, legs still tangled around him.
“Hey! Rude!” she squawked, glaring up at him. “You got a plan, or you just like manhandling me?”
Ekko smirked, bracing his arms on either side of her. “Little of column A, little of column B.”
Jinx huffed, leaning in slightly as she tugged at the collar of his shirt. “If you think I’m gonna make this easy on you, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“Now you’re just sweet-talking me,” he said. His lips grazed against hers lightly as he spoke, voice low like gravel in a way that never failed to make her shiver.
When he finally kissed her, it wasn’t hurried. Wasn’t rough or desperate. Just deep and warm and slow, the kind of kiss that settled in her lower spine—a pleasurable tingle creeping up it like a spark that’s caught a fuse. Everything went quiet for a while as she sighed softly against his mouth. She hiked one leg around his waist, drawing him closer.
He chuckled into the kiss, and when he finally pulled back, she didn’t let go right away.
“We should take this to bed,” he murmured, brushing his nose lightly against hers. “Before Freya walks in on us again.”
Jinx laughed, forehead bumping gently into his. “Too late for that. I’m pretty sure she’s already added us to her list of tragic inconveniences she tolerates with dignity.”
Ekko smirked. “Think she’s gonna start charging us rent for using our own couch?”
“Only if she catches us again.” Jinx gave him a wicked grin. “So, hurry up.”
He grinned back, kissed her again, then started to shift like he was going to sweep her up into his arms. She caught the motion instantly. “Don’t you dare go all noble on me.”
“What?” he said, feigning innocence. “You don’t want a romantic carry into the sunset?”
“You do and I swear I’ll bite you.”
Ekko paused mid-movement, raising an eyebrow with a crooked grin. “Yeah? That supposed to be a threat or a promise?”
“You’ll find out real fast if you keep hauling me around like I’m cargo.”
His fingers squeezed lightly around the backs of her thighs. “Doesn’t sound like a no.”
Jinx raised a brow, voice dry. “It should. I’ve got good aim and sharp teeth.”
“Mm. Not exactly a deterrent.” Ekko’s grin turned sharp. “Fine. No romance then.”
Before she could protest again, he tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Oi!” Jinx squawked, thumping his back with a half-hearted fist. “Put me down, you smug bastard!”
“Too late,” he said haughtily, patting the back of her thigh as he started walking. “This is what you get for threatening to bite me.”
“Keep talking,” she cautioned, “and I’ll leave a mark somewhere visible—see how you explain that to our kid.”
Ekko chuckled low in his throat, the sound rumbling through his chest and into hers. “Right. Nothing says bedtime story like ‘Papa tripped and landed neck-first on a feral gremlin’s incisors.’”
“Keep calling me names,” she answered, voice dry, “and I’ll bite your damn nose off next.”
“You’re all talk,” he said, but his smile softened as he slowed near the door. His free hand dragged gently down the back of her calf in a familiar, unspoken gesture of affection, thumb brushing the inside of her knee before winding around it again.
Jinx didn’t answer right away. She just relaxed, a little, against the warmth of him; however, unwilling to submit completely, Jinx shifted on his shoulder, chin digging into his back just enough to be a warning, “You’re lucky I like a little chaos with my foreplay.”
“Lucky? I’m thriving.”
Jinx snorted, hanging upside-down as he carried her down the hallway, muttering threats and insults under her breath while he just kept grinning—completely undeterred. Their banter faded into the quiet warmth of home, their laughter lingering as the bedroom door closed behind them—sealing them off from the world and leaving only each other.
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Jinx,
Finally. If you didn’t keep changing addresses like a couple of smug airship ghosts, maybe I could’ve gotten a word in sooner. You’re lucky I love you both, because reading that you got jumped and then having to sit on on my hands until you landed somewhere long enough to write back? That was a special kind of hell. But you’re fine. You’re still breathing. I’ve cooled off. Mostly.
First off, yes—I got the diagrams. Tell Ekko I’m ‘oh so very impressed’, just like you said. (But between you and me, I only understood maybe a third of it and Caitlyn got smug about the rest, which I will never forgive him for.)
Speaking of Caitlyn—“coat-rack wife,” really? You’ve got a lot of nerve for someone who’s with a man who probably alphabetizes his wrenches. You’re lucky Cait’s got a sense of humour. I read that bit out loud, and she gave me a look and then suggested we send you a gift basket of pressed linen. You better be careful, though—if you keep mouthing off, Caitlyn might write you back herself. And her handwriting’s all fancy loops and curls, like it’s meant to be read by gilded quills and candlelight instead of anyone who grew up reading factory manuals.
As for Theo’s drawing… I genuinely don’t know whether to frame it or burn it before anyone else sees it. That portrait’s going to haunt me forever. I’m still not sure how he managed to make me look like I’ve lost a bar fight with a steel door, but tell him it’s perfect. He’s got a real talent. Honestly. (Maybe don’t tell him that part. I don’t need future blackmail material floating around.)
Glad to hear you’ve found a place that feels… better. Calmer. You’ve earned that. All of you. It’s good to know you’re somewhere the kids can breathe easy. And you, too, I hope. You sound… steady, in a way. Like you’re building something real out there, not just holding the pieces together.
Give Freya my best—tell her I’d have stood way less still for a party hat, so she’s a better sport than me. And give Inna a kiss from me, even if she’ll just yell “shitfuck” at me in response. I’m proud of you. That’s weird to write, but I am.
Write back soon. Tell me how the birthday goes.
—Vi
P.S. I’m sending Theo a new set of sketch pencils next time we get a courier ship headed your way. The world deserves more cursed portraits of me.