“The City of Progress, huh? -- Smells about right.”
The wanderer promptly removed his hat, gazing upon the strange polis of innovation and steal, combustion and diversity. This was not his ideal environment by any stretch of the imagination, but there was law here, law that did not wish for his incarceration or execution... at least, not yet.
And he would love to keep it that way.
The air was thicker here than back at home, an ever mingling mix of byproducts created by modern emissions and the costal breeze from the gulf. It was tolerable (unlike Zaun’s atmosphere), though Yasuo couldn’t help but feel somewhat lonelier without that familiar Ionian wind by his side.
Why have feelings about it?
Wind was just wind, the movement of air, no need to get sentimental about it.
Just as the ronin prepared to begin his trek, a stray gust caused him to pause mid-step, eyes stealing a glance at previously unnoticed woman looming nearby. Was she worth talking to? He knew not the roads and ways of Piltover; perhaps some guidance would aid him in finding some basic commodities.
“-Hey, you a local here?”
