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Three council meetings, and Sevika spends less time outside than ever. Every week she leaves ample time to get to the council room, punctuality ingrained by Silco and an urge to not set a bad example for Zaun. She arrives early and when she leaves, goes straight to her basement punching bag, attacking it in memorized hazes until she grabs food and goes to sleep.
It should be fine, right? The war’s over, there are less enforcers patrolling the streets, and the Undercity has some authority now that she’s on the council. But a sense of unease still nags at her. She tries to push it back, almost angry with herself for not being content with this peace, more than the Undercity’s seen in years.
What strangely weighs on her mind now, as she throws fist after fist at the unyielding leather, is the tea.
Every council meeting starts with tea. When Sevika heard this, she almost breathed a sigh of relief. She could have something familiar in the middle of all this finery. Tea was difficult to get in the Undercity, little room for growing food, let alone tea leaves, but her dad always made sure to have some tucked away in a cupboard.
Councilor Medarda continued speaking, something about seeing the error of many past traditions but keeping a trace of the old before reaching the new. Sevika dreamily imagined sipping chai while the others made small talk, drinking up that familiar taste and all the information Zaun would ever need.
Then a lithe woman cleared her throat. She stood by Sevika with a serving tray, complete with three elegant teapots. The two women stared at each other, each waiting for the other to speak.
“Chamomile, sencha, or rooibos?” Councilor Medarda said lightly from across the room, after the room’s silence became uncomfortable.
“Ah. Sencha,” Sevika replied. The woman poured her a cup of light green, and set it on a saucer. The dishware, as gently as she rested it, still made a slight clatter on the grand desk.
Sevika lifted the cup to her lips, tasting something like smoked grass. She’d tasted worse, but eventually decided on not liking it. She made a face, dropped the cup down, then realized every other council member was staring, all holding their cups up. Sevika rolled her eyes and followed suit. The room took a sip. Yeah, this was definitely some Piltie shit she wouldn’t learn to like.
See, she expects the stares, the haughty glances down noses as she tries to mask her confusion at new political terms. But the little social barrier of an unknown beverage ritual at the beginning of every meeting is aggravating, and she doesn’t know why. Maybe because she was expecting some bit of comfort, something she’d know how to deal with, and couldn’t even get that.
She throws a one-two punch at the heart of the bag and regroups. Faster fighters, footwork, were what threw her off in recent fights. She steps back and forth and into blurred memories.
The council meetings are exactly what she expected, haughty declarations of change while no one seems to acutally get anything done. She spoke up, pointing out the quality of many facilities in Zaun because nothing’s going to get organized if people can’t eat, and Councilor Medarda even backed her, but everyone else talked about rebuilding food storages after the war, repairing Piltover’s public buildings.
“We’ll be able to work on the Undercity once we’re back to normal, no?” said a man with red hair and far too much jewelry, and Sevika had to think about crushing his head in her flesh arm to keep herself from doing it, and by the time she had stopped, the meeting was over.
Vander, Silco, even Jinx would probably be better at this, her mind unhelpfully offers for the tenth time this month. Vander could have charmed everyone while getting information, and Silco would have figured out everything he needed to know in the first hour, and gotten under their skin socially or chemically in the next. This was their dream, and she was the one sitting in a council seat, knowing what she wanted but not knowing how to get it, not like this. And Jinx...
She doesn't like thinking about Jinx. A low jab, paying attention to how her shoulders move, and she remembers Jinx and Isha throwing punches with their whole bodies as they mimicked their colored beetles' battles. Stupid, unpredictable, pig tailed kid, but she got more done for Zaun in the end than Vander and Silco did.
And she’s not talking about the council seat. No, Jinx gave them someone to believe in. For all her faults, she was never apologetic. People saw their desires reflected in her unrestrained chaos when there was no one else to turn to.
Sevika’s arms sink to her sides. She sits down, twists at a few screws to make the metal arm fall to the ground. Its bright purples and pinks are a handy distraction in the council room and here: the colors stick out against regal golds and blues, and in the dim grays of her apartment.
But no kid’s around to add a few more marks. She sinks onto her bed, head in her hand. It’s so easy to imagine a similar scene, years ago, when she’d just realized how much shimmer she was helping move as Silco’s right-hand man. The sheer size of the operation almost engulfed her trust in Silco that made her go along with any of his plans.
Almost. But he was brilliant. She saw no reason why his plan wouldn’t have worked, and knew she would have never come up with shimmer or its distribution on her own. So she followed.
What was it with her and fathers? There was her old man at first. She realized he had no better dreams for the Undercity than bigger shops for business, bigger clubs for him and bruises for her–so she left.
Then there was Vander, the only one who actually knew how to be a father despite all the mess of Zaun, and had to die for it.
And Silco, who picked a kid up out of his explosive mess and made a daughter out of her. Or did she make a father out of him? What she remembers most is neither of them making much sense most of the time, and loyal to each other in a way she couldn’t emulate, even when she gave up an arm for Silco.
Sevika ran out of fathers after that, so she’d turned to a daughter. That was barely following, more pushing a kid she’d seen since six into the symbol everyone wanted her to be, and making sure Jinx’s kid didn’t blow anyone up.
She hollowly wonders what all this could mean for any Zaunite who might try to follow her, now that the only semi-authorities left are her and Ekko. Maybe she could get him to replace her on the council, but no, he’s been gone for a year and already has to deal with the Firelights. She’s the best person for the welcome job, she knows it–but what difference does it make? Anyone she follows ends up dead, and now there’s no one left.
Her grumbling stomach is a welcome distraction from her thoughts. She decides to swing by a food cart for a late-night snack. You would think being, not a councilor, but someone who led Undercity troops into battle would get her a little credit, but stinginess is ingrained in Zaun after the initial shock of battle passes. She pays the same as everyone else, walks back to her place, munching on some type of grilled tentacle.
The meat doesn't yield easily beneath her teeth. She likes the effort it takes to chew–mouth unmoving, body resting, her mind later drifts.
If someone had told Sevika two years ago that she would end up following Jinx, she would have laughed in their face. Or spit. Maybe both. Because what about Jinx could you pin down to follow?
Then there was Isha. Jinx declared she wanted food after the fight with Smeech, and Sevika tagged along, meaning to ask questions about how to use her new arm in case she needed to repair it. Instead, she ended up watching as Jinx explained everything about the food stall, the area, and her gun to Isha, who stared back with intent curiosity. Sevika spoke up a few times while Jinx was chewing, to point out that nobody else used this stuff, Jinx’s “toys” weren’t the kind of thing a kid should be playing with.
Jinx only scoffed and said, “Well, I’m still alive, right?”
Sevika resolved to stay by the kids’ side for the time being, telling herself as little as she knew or liked about children, Jinx would blow the child up.
But, no, Isha learned how to do that herself. Sevika heard in between a bustle of war reports, there was an explosion by the cult site with a blue-haired child in the center of it all. Everyone knew Jinx–that lack of a name had to be Isha.
She registered the report with a nod, going back to whatever war preparations she’d been doing at the time, and resolved to focus on that later, after most of the deaths had followed. A big battle in Piltover was coming up, and all the mourning could be done after.
It’s been over a month, and the report shook her memories so badly she doesn’t even remember what she was doing for the war at the time, or what she ate for dinner yesterday. It was probably from the same food cart, but she doesn’t know for sure.
If only she could get her head together for Council meetings, then maybe she’d know what to say, be able to retort when a prissy white-haired lady who looks older than the Lanes says, “Well, is it possible we could start anew? Raze everything in the Undercity, and we’re guaranteed to get rid of that nasty shimmer business for good.”
Councilor Medarda starts to speak, but Sevika only hears the scrape of her own chair against the ground as she gets up and walks out.
The slam of the doors is nothing compared to the pounding in her ears or her boots’ thumping against the ridiculous marbled floor. So many are dead, and they’re still not Zaun, just the Undercity. Now there’s no one in direct control of shimmer, so there’s no one Zaunite to target, just everyone. Again.
Sevika’s feet lead her down mazes of green, blue, then gray. She catches her breath when her heels kick up dust, and realizes she’s wandered into some far-off part of the building. Maybe some Hextech department that hasn’t been touched since its scientists disappeared.
She turns around and retraces her steps, trying not to think about the haughty expressions she’ll find on councilors’ faces when she returns. Then she sees a door cracked open, one that she must have missed on her way over. Light streams from the inside, and someone sighs loud enough to be audible down the hallway. A spare scientist, or some official? Either way, someone who might know something about Hextech, what to do with any of it now.
She pushes the door open and stares into a familiar gaze, only now half-covered with an eye patch.
“What are you doing here?” Caitlyn Kiramman gasps, clearly unprepared to face anyone at the moment. Her hair hangs in a tangled bun above a rumpled shirt, and her stilled pen dribbles ink onto the paper in front of her, blue glittering next to the small window. The room doesn’t have any air of prestige, only weathered books from ceiling to floor. Caitlyn’s shoulders are tense, but she doesn’t look like she’s going to spring forward. Sevika’s blocking the only exit, anyway.
Sevika automatically clenches a metal fist, then hears how loudly pistons and gears hiss in the closed space. In this closed, Piltover space where she actually has more authority than Kiramman. Her authority as a member of a high-ranking family still remained after the war, but with the missing marksmanship following the eye and the whole ineffective dictatorship–Sevika smiles. Kiramman’s in this old room because she might not have anywhere else to be.
And Sevika has to get back to a council meeting, but sticking around here seems like more fun. She steps forward, peering at the center table littered with blueprints.
“That’s classified, you shouldn’t even–”
“Gonna bite me again?” Sevika grins at Kiramman’s expression, a mix of shock and embarrassment.
“What? That’s hardly–” She sighs. “I suppose I deserve that. But shouldn’t you be at a council meeting, Councilor…” She trails off and blinks. “Do you have a last name? Most people from the Undercity I’ve met don’t seem to have one.”
“Councilor Sevika’s fine.” She almost laughs. The title still feels foreign, even from her own voice, but Caitlyn still thinks of her as a type of foreigner. Then she frowns, really looking at the papers in front of her. “What is this, secret castle tunnels?”
“Pretty much. I didn’t know you knew blueprints.”
“Don’t you know this building already? Hell, I should use this as a map.” She holds up a paper up to the ceiling light between two hands, relishing Caitlyn’s squint at metal fingers crinkling the edges. Gods, maybe she understands for a second why Pilties act so high and mighty–getting under Kiramman’s skin is intoxicating.
“How much of this isn’t blown up?” she continues, turning the map around. “Could probably throw a lot of this away–” Sevika stops. This pattern looks familiar, like a building she’s seen overlooking Zaun for years. One that recently suffered massive damages, with two bodies below. She has to know for sure. “Is this the Hexgate? Where J–”
She can’t say it, has never dared to hope in someone still being alive because that’s not how Zaun has ever worked. So she points at vents circled in red. Caitlyn looks away, down, and Sevika follows her eye to the same marks mirrored across multiple sheets strewn across the window desk. Added arrows connect grate to vent to pipe to–
“Jinx got out through the air ducts,” Caitlyn says as the realization hits Sevika like an uppercut. “Or, at least, I have reason to believe she could have. Vi says she just dropped, but she didn’t see her body, only an extra purple blast. Enforcers only found burnt scraps of Vander. And I have no doubt Jinx had a few extra tools left on her when she fell–a bomb to propel her away, maybe.”
Sevika grabs the corner of the table. It shakes beneath her grasp. This is so much to bear, but some part of her sees Catilyn’s covered eye and only remembers a year ago when it looked through a scope, aiming towards Jinx, and Isha in the process. “Will you chase her?” The question scrapes out of her throat.
Caitlyn lets out a bitter laugh. “First of all, I don’t have a team to do that right now, even if I wanted to. But really, if after all this, Jinx can get out with a new faraway life, she can have it.” She throws her hands up, half-shrugging. “If she becomes a problem again, I’m sure we’ll hear about it.”
Sevika’s eyes wildly scan the room, trying to find something to land on, but everything has similar shades of brown, parchment and leather and wood.
Kiramman must take this to mean she wants more answers, because she adds, "I was trying to see if she could have gotten out in a different direction, see if she’d take an airship heading east versus west. Then I got caught up in what security deficits our other buildings have.” She waves a hand at the mess of the room. “I don't know these buildings as well as you might think, unfortunately."
Sevika breathes. "So you're not sure, but…”
"It's Jinx," Caitlyn says simply, and they both know it's true. There's no way a fall would kill that girl.
Knowing her, she'd probably tried it already. The last glimpse she got of Jinx was after Sevika punched a Noxian and looked up to the colorful warship's thrumming motor. Jinx mounted a massive machine gun on one shoulder, steely purple eyes scanning for their next targets and nothing else.
Jinx saw nothing in Piltover beyond the battle, Sevika realizes. And if she’d taken Isha’s death hard, she could imagine how Jinx took it afterward.
Maybe better than she’d thought, given the bunny ears on the warship, but she couldn’t give much thought to it at the time before a blade scraped against her arm and she had to knock someone else out.
“Right,” Sevika says. The council room might be easier to face than this. She turns to leave, then stops, a hand on the door frame. Caitlyn has this information, but Vi’s still somewhere in this castle. “You haven’t told Vi,” she says, intending a question. But it slips out as fact. If Vi knew, there’s no way Sevika wouldn’t have heard about her jumping on an airship to try and follow her sister gods know where.
“No,” Caitlyn says, her voice shaky. She looks up from the cluttered table, staring at some hidden part of the bookshelf. “I’ve been wrong before, and if I’m wrong this time– well, Vi shouldn’t have to grieve anymore.” She stares at Sevika, and there’s still a glimmer of what made Caitlyn so adept at becoming a dictator left in that blue eye. Try me, her gaze says. But you know I’m right.
And for the first time, Sevika agrees with her.
A second time, when she tells Caitlyn that Councilor Sevika is the only councilor Vi knows, and if Vi could process politics after this mess, she’d want to know someone else. Caitlyn does want to make up for the past, and knows how to talk in these settings.
Back in the council room, Sevika pulls years of listening to Vander and Silco into sentences, adding old gripes she’d never dared to say. She points at the Kiramman girl and Jinx’s purple designs on her metal arm–everyone recognizes the past authority of both, even if neither hold any now. She and Caitlyn talk over other council members’ attempted retorts until the meeting closes.
The next week, Ekko claps Scar on the back, tells him he’ll base new trading posts and supply raids on council information. Scar follows Sevika’s commute up to the castle, and she means to only explain the tea ceremony-introduction to him, but they somehow stumble into talking about Jinx after he stares at her arm for a while. Yes, she’s hurt them, yes, it would be very different and complicated if she was around.
But wherever she is, she’s not here. Scar nods to Sevika before they enter the council room, both set on a plan to bring up Zaunites getting apprenticeships in Piltover, since so many old scientists are gone. She takes her seat and smiles when Mara–according to the lithe woman’s name tag–mentions they have black tea today.