Work Text:
The music of Zaun reflected it perfectly. It was nothing like Piltover’s sophisticated orchestras or their energetic cheerful beats. It was heavy, rough, rarely carrying joy. The people of Zaun seldom sung unless they were drunk in bars or praying for air to fill their failing lungs. That didn’t mean that they did not have anything to be sung, quite the opposite actually—where misery prevailed and the people had little but survival on their minds, art still found a way to plant its seeds.
After all, artists were usually born from the ashes of war, their passion as deep as the crimson they bled. Where there was injustice, there would eventually be resistance. And where there was resistence, there would be songs.
It has been months since the day Zaunites stormed Piltover to fight against Ambessa’s soldiers. Months since Sevika begrudgingly joined the council to give Zaun a voice, wether it would always be heard was another thing but at least now Piltover’s oppression wouldn’t go completely unpunished. Things were changing, slowly—achingly slow. Which was ironic considering Piltover was known to be the city of progress, and yet they stunted almost every attempt Zaun made to improve the undercity that wouldn’t directly benefit Topside.
Zaun would eventually rise again, it was inevitable when the system that caused its suffering for years was still standing. But for now, people were nursing their wounds, both literal and figurative. Everyone was mourning someone—a father, a sister, a friend, a lover, perhaps even themselves. The one they lost during a battle that wasn’t even their own. Fractured by the brutality of war.
Everyone was mourning someone. And everyone was mourning her.
They called her the Blue Spark. The Girl Who Split the Sky. The one who lit the fuse to Zaun’s revolution.
They called many things but not her name. Not a Jinx. Not anymore.
Even if she once killed someone they knew, they still mourned her. Their symbol. The hero who came guns blazing to free them from Stillwater. The blue haired girl that dared to blow Topside’s aggression to pieces. The one who suffocated those privileged cunts with the same poison they used on them.
And now she is gone. No corpse left to bury. No personal possessions to remember her by. A martyr who will only be remembered for the things she did. The good and the bad. And maybe… a song.
“Janna whispers, but she screamed,
Tore down the towers of their golden dreams.
Where the wind guides, she burned a trail.
Now the undercity breathes her hail.”
Her memory was everywhere. In the blue heads of hair roaming the streets. In the murals painted in her honor. In the inventions she left for the firelights.
And most importantly, in the sorrowful tune that was often heard in many a voice.
“Oh, light the powder, let it spark,
Sing her name through the neon dark.
They called her mad, but the truth shines clear—
She was the flame, and we’re still here.”
There was no doubt those lyrics would one day be sung as they marched toward another battle—one they chose to be part of, for their liberation, their cause. They would carry her spirit in their hearts, praying she could give them strength. A sinner turned saint.
But to Ekko, she was more than that. She was more than the mad girl who blew up the council, more than the fighter who helped them win a fight against a Noxian general. More than a loose cannon. More than an accidental revolutionary. More than a mere idea.
She was the woman he loved. The girl he grew up with. The person he ripped away from the grips of death four times, only to lose her when he turned away.
She was his. As he was hers. Would always be. Even if she was now somewhere he couldn’t reach.
The people of Zaun know her from the actions she did for them, against them. But Ekko knows what makes laugh, what makes her cry, what makes her break.
Made her break.
Her father. Her daughter. Her sense of self. Her struggle with sisterly love. The things he could’t fix for her. The things that no longer needed fixing.
The things that were gone with her.
”I could rewind, but I can’t erase,
Every loop still ends the same.
Oh, Blue Shadow, where’d you go?
I’d spin the clock back if I know…”
Ekko sang in a cracked voice. Lyrics he doesn’t remember writing. A melody that changes every time.
”I’ll carve your name in the Last Drop’s floor,
Let the whole damn city know I’m yours.
Time can break, the world can end,
I’ll love you past the edge of time again…”
Zaun had their folksong. He had whatever this was. Words that escaped through the cracks of his broken heart. A tune that flowed alongside his tears.
An homage to her.
To Powder.
To Jinx.
To the girl he loved. Loves. Will always love.