#silco stan

[ironandglass]

Flat ass theory

[ironandglass]

[ironandglass]

Silco bedside visits are important.

Book keeper/accountant finds herself on Silcos bad side as the result of a misunderstanding and he almost tortures and kills her. You know how it is, everyone makes mistakes.

Silco/femaleOC slow burn but it uses minimal name references (maybe like two?) so you can live your best life and read it as silco x reader because that’s what we’re here for people.

TW for violence, surgery, blood, alcohol, weapons, indentured service, torture, drug use, drug user family member, paperwork, power imbalance, power dynamics, and hardcore simping. You’ve been warned.

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Framed by Betrayal - Part 6

Sevika impatiently swipes her mechanical arm across the metal slab, sending various instruments crashing and jangling to the ground. She helps bear your weight as you hop up to lay on the cold metal table before turning away to dig through some cupboards and drawers behind her.

You lay still, feeling exhausted, only sitting up briefly when Ran returns with a bottle of rum that you assume they’ve pilfered from the bar upstairs. With a pointed nod they encourage you to drink as much as you can, their cool manner strangely comforting. Despite both of them being silent, you appreciate Sevika and Ran helping you so… kindly. Kinder than they had to be under the circumstances.

Resolving to take a deep swig you lift the bottle high and slurp it awkwardly out of the good side of your mouth. Curling into yourself sharply as the alcohol stings the laceration. You half gasp half choke at the shocking, burning intensity of it. Accidentally spitting a small amount out through the hole in your lips where there should not be one. The evaporated fumes of the rum burn your eye where it has spilled down your cheek, strong shit.

As you take another swig Sevika swoops in and holds the bottle up, forcing you to chug a lot more than you would do on your own. Your eyes widen and you reach up one hand to hold the wound closed as you drink the potent liquor, scrunching your eyes closed with the effort.

You cough harshly when she releases you, a small spill of rum splattering your hand and surroundings. Why did it have to be rum you wonder before your head spins and you slump back into a laying position, the back of your skull smacking against the surface gracelessly.

You don’t see Sevika and Ran share a concerned look.

“We don’t have time to wait,… I’ll do it.” Sevika signs to them silently just out of your view.

Ran raises an eyebrow.

“I’ve sewn up worse.” She signs back, annoyed as she pulls the tray she’s put together over to rest by your head. You hear it clink and try to turn to see what she’s got but she gently but firmly pushes your head back to resume facing the ceiling.

“Hold still and close your eyes.” She demands, almost threatens. You obey, the rum starting to bring you some warm, drunken easing of discomfort.

She leans over and you feel the needle press at your skin before pushing through. It is agonising and you grab fistfuls of your jacket to brace yourself, closed eyes wrinkled tightly shut.

“If you don’t relax your face, this will scar like a bitch.” Sevika warns and you do the best you can, as she makes another pass, pulling the thread through with it and tying it off. Your toes curl and every other muscle in your body is stiff as a board with the effort of keeping your face still and not twisted.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and peep open one eye briefly to see Ran, coming to assist, helping hold the wound together as Sevika works.

“Eyes closed.” Sevika growls again, pulling the thread through a little more roughly till you obey.

You do your best to stay still and silent, occasionally whimpering where you can’t help yourself. Tears leak down your cheeks through your closed eyes. If Sevika notices she doesn’t give you a hard time about it. After a few more passes with the stitching, you start feeling darkness creeping in at the bordering of your vision, slowly closing in on you like a warm hug.

“No no no, shit! Ran, hold her head still! Dammit!” is the last thing you hear before you lose consciousness.

~~~

You wake up to a buffet of pain in a variety of flavours. Sharp stinging pain that laces the sliced flesh at the edges, a bone deep ache across your skull and electric nerve zingers shooting sporadically through your swollen jaw. One side of your face is swollen and your mouth is hideously dry, as if it were filled with coarse sand. You almost gag when you catch a whiff of yourself, reeking of spiced rum and dried blood, charming. A headache slowly makes itself known to add to your experience, slinking out from behind your eyes to rest in the foreground, like a cat in the sun.

As your awareness gropes around blindly for a foothold on exactly where the hell you are, you find yourself laying on a nice bed. Sprawled out on top of the blankets, still in your ruined and bloody clothing from last night. Memories of the stitching fade into consciousness and the reality of it leaves you feeling frail, weak and utterly exhausted.

Taking a few, painful deep breaths before sitting up, the room spins and you see stars, blackness rims your vision for a long moment till you slowly adjust to the change in axis.

You’re in a nice, almost ornate little room. The little single bed is plush and the bedding smells crisp and clean. The deep red bed cover has a simple but elegant gold embroidery that catches in the light but feels rough underhand. In the corner of the room a vent pumps in sweet tasting, surprisingly fresh air.

It’s still very small but it’s miles ahead of the musty safe room you’d stayed in previously. You look over to the bedside table and your mouth falls open in shock, which pulls awkwardly at the swollen stitches so you quickly snap it shut it again. There are a few things on the wooden surface but your eyes are fixed on a simple glass vase, full of clean water and a simple, elegant bouquet of cats whiskers flowers.

Before you can consider that intriguing little morsel any further the door handle turns, dragging your attention towards the tall thin man now striding confidently towards you.

You shy away, wiggling underneath the blankets protectively, not recognising him. Behind his scarf and… bandages? He looks terribly scarred, as if he had been in a horrible fire and barely escaped to survive.

“Ah…” he pauses, noticing your unsure discomfort. “I’ve been asked to examine your injuries… may I?”

He gestures, to a stool by the bed. You look cautiously between the stool and him and nod once.

“Thank you, if you can please sit on the edge of the bed here, so that I can assess the sutures” He says, patiently letting you move into place before lifting the chair and placing it beside the bed facing you.

“Now” he says, sitting down slowly, in a way that makes you wonder how his scars must pull as he moves. “Let’s see Sevikas handy work shall we?” He gently lifts your chin, tilting your face towards the window so that the light is better. His brows furrow as his one good eye flicks over your wound.

“Hrmm, she did not do badly at all.” He pauses for a beat. “But do not tell her I said that.” You see the corner of his eyes crinkle and you realise he is making a small joke. You can’t help but crack a small smile back at his endearing effort.

He asked you what happened and you explain how you got the wound, and how Sevika and Ran had stitched it up. He listens patiently nodding.

“The rum seems to have helped disinfect the wound.” He muses, almost as if talking to himself before adding. “I’d like you to apply this three times a day, morning mid and night. It will keep the wound clean, reduce swelling and assists in healing. He hands you a small glass jam jar of lavender coloured salve.

“Unfortunately you may have some crushing injuries to your ribs but there’s nothing I can do for that. You will have to endure, unfortunately, till they heal.”

Nodding you wait patiently for him to continue.

“As for the laceration, if it starts to get worse, come see me at once. It is not a small wound, and any infection would probably need to be cut away. I would not like to see that happen.”

You nod in horrified agreement “Of course.”

He chuckles as he stands. “Fear is very motivating isn’t it.” You’re not sure how to reply to that so you just half smile awkwardly. “Thank you.” You say, trying to favour the less painful side of your mouth.

“You should thank Sevika.” He says as he pulls the door open pausing in the doorway momentarily. “If she had waited for me last night you would probably have bled to death.” With that he closes the door, leaving you alone with yourself in stricken silence.

You look down at the jar and open it, it smells sweet and familiar. You recognise lavender flowers, lemon myrtle and comfrey leaf, but there are some other healing herbs you don’t recognise. You struggle to open the tight lid, cursing men for over tightening every damn thing they can. Once you wrangle it open you dab some over your lips, following the vertical path of sutures up and down. It instantly soothes, a cool tingling numbing sweeps over the area and you sigh in ecstatic relief.

You carefully place the jar on your bedside table, noting the jug of water and glass. You drink three glasses, surprising yourself with how thirsty you are once you start.

Placing the cup back you return your attention to side eye the flowers suspiciously. They are beautiful but… Silco would not have done this would he? It seemed so… out of character. He really doesn’t seem the type but you don’t know anyone else who would bother with such an extravagant gift. Cut flowers in Zaun are almost a sacrilegious luxury. Plants are valued more for their natural air filleting capabilities, healing powers and psycho-active effects before their general beauty and even then they are valued much more alive than cut. It was especially hard to ignore that these are the same flowers you discussed together with him in the garden at the College of Techmaturgy. The ones you had told him were your favourite.

You shake your head, trying to dislodge the messy thought spiral and lean against the table as you get to your feet. You feel weak and tired but you forge on towards the door, curious to see where you are.

Opening the door you peer out and find yourself in a small hallway, it looks familiar-

A door opens and Silco strolls out before freezing when he sees you. He looks you up and down. With self conscious terror you remember that you’re still wearing your dirty, bloody clothes from the previous night and probably look like a bruised and beaten mess.

He steps towards you and reaches out towards the stitched wound before hesitating and retracting his hand, flexing his fingers and slowly curling it into a fist at his side.

“What did Singed say?” He asks simply, your eyes flick back up to him in question before you realise with a pang of distaste that he must have been talking about the man with the burn scars.

“It’s fine” You rasp, and clear your throat.

“He told me to keep it clean and gave me some salve.” You explain hoping the floor would swallow you whole.

Silco nods once and turns his head, his long lean neck flexing as he muses over something.

“Third door on the left is the wash room.” He says and you look down, embarrassed that it’s him to suggest that you bathe. “Take today and tomorrow to regain your strength, I’ll need you again after that.”

You nod and he makes a pained face. It looks like he wants to say more but he doesn’t know how to say it so you wait patiently for him to spit it out. You catch his eye and raise your eyebrows in encouragement but he just frowns and turns away, striding down the hall away from you.

Puzzled you stand there a moment watching where he had been before slowly making your way to the wash room.

~~~

Steam rises as you luxuriate in the hot water of the large footed iron tub. You roll your neck and slip lower into the water so that your nose is just above the water line, inhaling a deep breath through your nose before dipping your head under again. The sound under the water is so comforting, your long hair splays out all around you as you enjoy the simple novelty of being submerged. It stings at your lip but it’s also soothing, soaking away the died and cracked blood.

When your lungs start to burn you resurface, water cascades down your face and hair as you lay back comfortably slipping your arms around the edges beside you.

Schist had stollen two barrels of shimmer from the scientists that night. You wonder over what that means as you laze in the water.

Ramsey had obviously sent her, knowing from his previous position that they had the three barrels of shimmer and very little security. You weren’t even supposed to be there at the time, it was just bad luck that you had run into each other. You reach a hand up and trail it over the raised lumpy stitches absently.

Schist was pretty close with Harker too, they’re probably all working together in some way or another.

Harker…

You frown a bit before it hurts your face, which frustrates you into wanting to scowl but you force your sore lips into a neutral line instead.

You were most disappointed by him. You could deal with people being terrible, but it was so much worse when they pretended to be kind first. You had genuinely liked him, not in a romantic way but platonically, as a friend. You had appreciated and respected him, then he had framed you and very almost gotten you killed. Perhaps it would be better to simply distrust people on principle in future you consider. Dipping a hand to swirl in the water, you create little ripples that slowly widen. Being bitterly disappointed was becoming a tiresome trend in your social experiences despite your best efforts to do right by people.

You consider the other people that you had fired for going off the rails, most of them were friends with both Ramsey and/or Harker. So it made sense that they might be running with their own little crew now.

People addicted to shimmer don’t get themselves fired from a job that provides free shimmer. Not unless they can get it somewhere else. It might be worth making a list of these people. You resolve to do it as soon as possible, motivated by your experience and sincere curiosity.

Smirking with one side of your face, suddenly nostalgic, you remember the detective stories Yrvka had read to you before she had taught you to read. Yrvka and her husband Bryn had run the little cantina bar before you had taken it over, they had paid you to help out and clean up around the place as a kid. They had been almost like second parents, your own parents too busy and too exhausted after long shifts in the suffocating mines.

Bryn lived in the sumps now… famously where the people of Zaun go to lay low. Maybe it was worth dropping in on the old man for a long overdue visit.

If he was even still alive.

The thoughts turned painful and with them you sink back under the water again, trying to clear your mind. This time you stay under for as long as you can hold your breath.

~~~

There was a single knock at your door that roused you from your recovery slumber. The door cracked open and you pulled the covers up over yourself as someone strolled into the room.

It was Silco. You heart froze again, the man honestly terrified you.

He was holding something and you watched as he carefully moved a chair over to the bedside and sat down across from you staring over you at the wall opposite, apparently thinking to himself.

After a long moment you looked up at him and his eyes latched on to yours.

“Ah you’re awake.” He said.

You nod once, the blanket pulled up just over your nose, wishing you had worn any clothing at all to bed and not just passed out completely nude after the bath.

“Is it true that you don’t carry any weapons?” He asks suddenly.

You raise an eyebrow at the strange question.

“I used to.” You concede. “but I haven’t had much need for them… well until very recently.” You add regretfully looking down.

“Hrmmm” the noise is a gentle rumble of thunder in his throat.

You sit up a bit further in the bed, so that the blankets cover your modesty from your neck down.

Your eyes flick over to the flowers and back to him and then you curse yourself for your wandering gaze, hoping he didn’t notice. Looking back up he was thumbing something in his hands. A flash of green caught the candlelight but you couldn’t make out what it was.

“You never know, when you’ll need to defend yourself Amaya, it’s often when we least expect it.” He says and your heart sinks. Is he threatening you?

“It can even be, those we least expect that turn against us.” He whispers.

There’s a beat of silence in that moment that chills your bones. You pull the blanket up again protectively and he turns his eyes back to you. In the dim light his orange eye was lit from within.

“I’d like you to have this.” He says holding what he had been holding out to you.

It was an ornate silver knife, inlaid in the hilt with stunning emeralds.

Your eyes widen and you sit up in awe clutching the sheet to your chest.

You look down at it and then up to him unsurely, you slip your hand out of the covers towards it.

He reaches out with his other hand and takes yours placing the knife into your palm and closing his other hand on top of yours.

“Keep it on your person, always. Will you promise me that?” He says looking deep into your eyes. The icy blue eye seeming less chilling as the warmth of his hand leaches into yours.

“I will” You whisper.

“Say it.” He demands squeezing your hand gently.

“I promise, I’ll keep it on my person.” You say gently, flustered.

His mouth tips up the most minute amount in one corner, you could almost miss it if his face wasn’t so close to yours.

“Good, because I need you.”

You feel blood rush into your face and your mouth parts slightly at those words. Warmth blooms within you and butterflies clang in your chest.

His brows furrow slightly and then his eyes widen in a flash of panic, he quickly pulls his hands away from yours.

“I need you, to do your job.” He adds quickly, face smoothing over again as he regains composure.

“What you do is very important.” He says getting to his feet and turning away.

“So I expect you to defend yourself better in future.”

“Of course, I will.” You say obviously.

“Goodnight.” He says and walks out the door, shutting it behind you.

You flop back in to the bed, staring at the ceiling. Still holding the beautiful blade in one hand.

What the fuck was that?

~~~

You’d slept most of the first day away, probably needed it.

“If she had waited for me last night you would probably have bled to death.“ Singed words sneak into your thoughts. You shy away from the memory of his words.

Regardless, there was no way you would waste your free day. Indentured staff were not permitted days off, or holidays or even afternoons off unless they were severely ill or dying. This was an opportunity that you could not afford to waste, busted face or not.

You applied the soothing purple salve once again, exhaling blissfully as it sunk into your aching wound. Thankfully, someone had provided you with some new clothes, they didn’t fit very well but they were better than nothing. You slipped them on pulled on your boots, flinching at the sensation in your lip as you tilted your head to tie the laces up.

You eye the silver blade on your bedside table suspiciously.

“I need you.”

You sigh, wrapping a cloth around it and slipping it under your pants by your hip before making your way out down the hall.

You’d realised after your bath yesterday that it was the same hallway as Silco’s office. You’d just been too messed up to put it all together.

You walked through the hall and down the stairs, the guards letting you pass without a second glance into the blasting music of the main bar area.

You spot Jinx sitting alone at the bar and know that’s a big red flag for her being in one of her moods. She has her special cup and the newest bar tender Chuck looks understandably terrified as she mumbles to him about something.

You make your way past carefully avoiding that part of the bar limping around the back wall till you find yourself curling around the spiral staircase that leads down to the cellars.

The keg room was empty, it smelled like stale beer and you actually appreciated the smell for once, valuing it as being from a simpler time. You stride over towards the door of your old office, eager to investigate.

You unlatch the door and slip inside, dropping into the chair behind the desk and luxuriating in the security of the tiny cupboard sized office space that had been your refuge.

Everything was just how you left it, despite your knowledge that Silco had been in here, pilfering through your records it seemed he had put everything back in its place. You smiled gently at the consideration as you reached up for the staff file, undoing the little string that held the binder shut. There was a section of the file reserved for those who had been let go, and you flipped through it, slipping the end of the pen into your mouth as your other arm reached for a notepad.

You start the list with Ramsey at the top, drawing a crude little crown next to his name to signify his ranking, followed by Harker then Schist. Compiling the rest from your own memory and those who had been fired was too easy. It’s not long before you’ve added six new names to your list. You sit for a moment and have the strangest urge to make a copy so you follow your gut instinct despite how unusual it seemed and fold it up, slipping it into your bra to stash somewhere safe. You hold the original list up and beam at it proudly for an absurd moment of self congratulation.

Ramsey 👑

Harker

Schist,

Dopp, Mogayne, Vyrillia,

Clypse, Lemm and Kile.

Not bad for a paperwork princess.

A strange clanging noise just outside the office door clips your thoughts short and you find yourself gripping your pen like a tiny blade in a moment of panic. Taking a deep breath you try to calm yourself, probably just someone changing a keg. The thought of Schist crushing you so tightly the air was squeezed from your lungs flashes through your mind and you grip the pen tighter.

No room for mistakes in this business.

You hear more rustling just outside the door so you quickly and quietly put your office back in order and pocket the list before reaching a hand towards the door handle, twisting it so slowly before kicking it open.

“Sur-PRISE!” You see written on the floor in pink scrawl just before the room explodes with bright blue smoke. You cough violently trying to make your way up the spiral staircase back towards the bar but your arm is yanked back roughly.

“Leaving’ so soon? You know, I think it’s about time we had a little talk!” Comes Jinxes husky and terrifying voice through the smoke. She wore a large respirator, and her manic blue eyes skitter over you like a swarm of insects through the murky glass lenses.

“Ugh, let me go Jinx” you growl, trying to shake free but her thin arm was inexplicably strong, holding you easily in place. She terrified you more than anyone else here, because there seemed to be no rhyme or reason behind many of her actions. She was entirely unknowable and insane.

“I can’t breathe” you gasp, tears pouring freely out of your eyes as you gasp for air still feebly pulling away from her.

“Step into my office!” She announces dramatically, opening the door to your office before kicking you into the chair slipping inside and shutting the door behind you both.

Jinx sits on the table in front of you looking down at you, tilting her head to the left as you gasp to catch your breath. You regret that the dagger Silco had given you was in such an awkward and hard to reach place.

“Okay you wanted to talk?” You rasp, trying not to display how entirely pissed off you are currently.

“Silco chewed my head off yesterday cause of you. Ramsey’s meant to be dead blah blah blah” She mimes with her hands as if they are puppets.

“You were meant to kill him?” You ask trying to decipher her insane chattering.

Her eyes narrow on you sharply and you freeze.

“Yeah, I blended him a bit but he must have pulled through” She makes a comical show of being exasperated. ”They’re so hard to kill when they’re big purps you know?” She raises her hands up over her head.

“So here’s the deal what’s-ya-name.” Jinx explains.

“Amaya” you interject dryly.

“I aint asking! Here’s the deal, YOU gotta kill Ramsey now. Since you caused me all this trouble.”

“I what!?” You blanch.

“I usually kill people who make me look bad, but he says he needs you for work stuff and that I’m absolutely not allowed to kill, hurt, explode, terrorise, drug, maim or torture you unless he says otherwise.” Counting each threat out on her fingers.

“Silco is very important to me.” She says looking away suddenly her fist clenching on her forehead.

You stay silent for a beat unsure of what to do or say, the awkwardness and danger of the moment thick in the air.

“Okay, you got a deal.” You say putting your hand out with confidence that you had no idea was possible. Trying to meet crazy with crazy seemed like as good a choice as any.

Jinx grins widely and grips your hand shaking it wildly.

“You kill Ramsey, I get the credit, kapeesh?” Jinx proclaims grinning wildly.

You nod once and she reaches across you to open the tiny office door.

“Nice doin’ business whats’ya’name.” She steps on your lap and shoulder roughly as she climbs over you out the door. You scramble after her once you realise the smoke is filtering back in to the room. Stumbling through the keg room up the stairs till you are left gasping at the top of the spiral staircase in the slightly fresher air of The Last Drop.

After a moment of catching your breath you steel yourself to the task at hand and walk through the bar towards the exit to The Lanes. On your journey through you lift a jacket off a chair as you pass and stroll out of the door praying that nobody else will interfere or threaten you along the way till you feel the cool air and rough cobblestones under you feet.

You pull the stolen jacket around you and stroll into the hustle and bustle of the lively streets stalking through the chattering crowd.

You weave through tides of strange and wonderful people, passing by pleasure parlours, bars, restaurants and shimmer dens till you find yourself in a market street.

“Long time no see” croaks the Baker Yarmin, kneading bread with two of his four arms while the other two packs a small ornate pipe with dried herbs.

“I’m a busy woman, just one today thanks” You smirk dipping your hand into your bra for your meagre coin purse. Grateful that you’d saved some coin from before your indenture.

“I thought you were a dead woman after The Eye took over the Cantina” He says taking a long draw on his pipe as his free hands wrap a loaf of bread with waxed paper.

“You thought wrong.” You say slipping some coins over the counter towards him.

He takes the coins and sniffs handing you a loaf.

“Say hi to Bryn for me.” He says softly before someone pushes you out of the way. You raise a hand up over the crowd in acknowledgement hoping he sees.

You stop by another stall purchasing a few other small items before heading down another bustling street.

Feeling suddenly exhausted, you take a moment to step briefly into a large breathing station. Paying a small fee to enter seemed immediately worth it. Huge air ducts with spinning fans siphoned clean air from topside and brought it down to refresh those within. You inhale deeply through your nose, enjoying some fresher than usual air, sitting down you drink in the view, watching people bustle by. The breathing station was set up like a small bar with tables, chairs and drinks available. Always room for business enterprise in Zaun. You appreciated a peaceful, brief respite before being informed your time was up.

“You have to pay to stay longer.” Said the man gruffly, his large feline ears folding back in a threatening display.

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving” You smile up at him feeling refreshed and in good spirits. He’s disarmed momentarily by your friendliness.

“Good then” he bites out as a last resort turning away back to his station.

The press of the crowd is the perfect hunting ground for pickpockets and you’d already carefully tucked your tiny coinpurse back into the side of your bra. You keep one hand in your jacket pocket pressed firmly against the list as you make your way through.

It’s not long before you reach your destination across town, boarding a hydraulic descender to ride lower into the fissure city you stand patiently waiting for the crowd to fill the space. Just before the gates could slide across to shut which would signal the descent a late passenger joins the ride, squeezing onto the platform before the gate is pulled shut. The latecomer stands beside you so close that you sidestep and shoot a glare up at them so they can see your obvious displeasure.

You peer up at Ran, who's eyes twinkle with delight at your recognition, confusion and then anger.

You sign to them “Following” Your hand jive is terrible but You’re sure they understand your question.

Ran points down and nods once. As if to say, Yeah, I am if you’re going down there. The elevator vibrates with heavy ticking gears as it descends.

You sigh, Ran is not wrong. The Sump level is famously dangerous, even for locals. With the rise of shimmer it had become a sprawling shanty town of the desperate and dying, the forgotten folk.

You used to visit every few weeks, visiting Bryn, the short little man who had hired you off the street and who’s wife had taught you about money and book keeping. Without them you would have no education, no edge. Probably be a miner like your parents or a pleasure worker like many others. Not that there’s any shame in that, but those are just some of the few choices for unskilled, uneducated young labourers in Zaun.

You blink back into the present, ripped away from your thoughts as you step out onto the bare rock and soil ground, people shuffle past, most wearing thick mining denim dyed dark with soot and dust. The air here is harsh and stagnant, you scrunch your nose and forge ahead. Ran follows silently beside you, impassive as always. Some people seem to recognise them and shrink away. You try to ignore it, as well as you try to forget the state of your own face, swollen on one side and full of stitches. Maybe you should have grabbed a respirator, if not just to hide behind it.

You make your way to the last place Bryn had been squatting. A small lean-to of corrugated iron sheeting and other discarded scrap.

You tap on the tin beside the entrance, a small grubby curtain hung across the opening. “Bryn?” You call, unsure if he would answer, unsure if he was even still alive.

You hear wretched coughing from within and a small disheveled man slips out through the curtain.

“Oh, it’s you my girl” He says, eyes going wide with recognition. Purple veins web across his too thin arms. You try not to let the pathetic sight of him hurt you. “What have you done to your face?” He asks stepping closer to you.

“I brought you some food.” You say, shrugging off his question, annoyed at the implication you had cut your own face wide open. In the way that only family can instantly annoy.

You place the fresh loaf of bread, a gourd flask of clean water and two tins of corned beef down on a shelf built in to the front of his hutch. He looks at them and then back up at you. “Thank you.” He says but his voice is distant, as if he’s just going through the motions of saying what he thinks he has to say. You’re both silent for a moment before he speaks again.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you… I thought you had finally stopped coming.” He sits down on a crate and you join him, sitting on the hard ground.

Ran hangs back, waiting from a polite distance.

“I’m sorry it’s been a while…” You say, meaning it. “Yarmin said to say hello.”

“That crusty old baker still baking?” He laughs, his weary face wrinkling with smile lines. Yarmin had been a regular at the Cantina way back when.

“How is my little bar going?” He says reaching for the bread and breaking off some of the crust.

“It’s going well” you lie with a smile, not willing to get into the truth of that right now.

“Good, good” he smiles sadly taking another bite.

“Bryn… I need you to tell me if you know anything about these people.” You say, pulling the list out of your pocket.

He turns a suspicious look on you.

“You in some kind of trouble?” He asks.

“It’s important.” You insist.

You read him the names and he gazes off into the distance.

“Yeah… I know some of them.” His brows furrow. “But you don’t want nothin to do with any of them. They’re no good.”

“Can you tell me what you know about them? Please?” You say taking his hand.

He looks into your eyes for a moment, must see the desperation there and sighs again.

“They call themselves the Zauntorrus” The bulls of Zaun.” He snorts at the ridiculousnesses of the name. “They think they can lift Zaun up and rise above the fissures but really they’re just a bunch of sumpers in Silco’s bad books.”

You nod slowly.

“Did they do that to you?” He says, nodding to your face.

You nod again.

“I need to find them.” You say.

Bryn laughs but it quickly degenerates into a wheezing hacking cough.

“My girl, they’re far too much trouble for you.”

“I’ll be in more trouble if I don’t find them Bryn, please.” You squeeze his hand.

“Please.” You insist.

He sighs and pulls his hand away to break off another crust of bread chewing it thoughtfully.

“I can find out for you if you give me some time. Come back in a day or two. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you Bryn.” You beam at him.

“Be careful my dear. Please look after yourself.”

“You too old man.” You give him a hug. His bony body feels like a wooden chair wrapped in clothing against you and it breaks your heart.

“I’ll see you in a day or two.” You get to your feet.

He nods and raises the water in a grateful salute before you turn away to leave trying to hold yourself together.

Your throat burns as you try not to cry, you cut long determined strides back through the shanty town towards one of the hydraulic ascender platforms.

He looked so much worse than the last time you’d seen him. He’d lost so much weight, you didn’t expect him to look so awful. You should have tried to get down here, to get food to him.

You fight tears away and swallow it all as best you can, mindful of Ran keeping pace beside you.

You stand on the ascender platform impatiently hugging your arms. While waiting for it to fill, just before the gate slides across you almost swear you see Schists wild green hair and black and gold eyes. It’s a split second of recognition before the swarming crowd engulfs her. You turn your watery gaze away, unwilling to see more, already overwhelmed. One hand drops into your pocket though, thumb slowly tracing the comforting shape of dagger underneath.

You see Ran move out the corner of your eye and they are signing to you. Despite the state you’re in, you’re shocked that they are initiating an interaction.

“Dad?” They sign simply.

You shake your head no… then sign back. “Similar” not knowing how else to describe it.

Ran nods once and turns away. You don’t communicate further for the rest of the ride back up to the lanes.

A few rogue tears slip down your cheeks and the salty beads sting as they soak into the stitches.

~~~

You and Ran arrive back at The Last Drop and once back inside the bar you sign “Thank you” to them. Ran bows, deadpan as always and heads off, leaving you to figure out what to do with yourself and you stand there for a moment, feeling totally lost.

A large hand falls on your shoulder ushering you into the bar.

“Where the hell have you been?” Sevika’s familiar voice in your ear.

“I went out.” You mumble glumly as she steers you through the parting crowd and sits you down in a booth with her.

“You’re meant to be resting!” She hisses, snapping her fingers at the waiters without looking away from you.

“You got a death wish? The SUMPS?” She rolls her eyes lighting the cigarette as two drinks are silently delivered in front of you by a beautiful blonde waitress.

“Ran tell you?” You ask glumly taking a sip of your drink, it was damn nice whiskey.

“No, but I’m glad he noticed you try to slip out and followed your dumbass.”

You look up affronted and Sevika laughs at you.

“I have a lot of eyes around town princess.”

“I had to go visit someone. I wouldn’t have had the chance otherwise.” You admit taking another soothing sip, exhaling rich the flavour over your palette.

“I know what you did, took some food to some old sumper and asked some questions.” She eyes you sharply as she takes another draw on her smoke, daring you to lie to her.

“I uh…” You flounder before finding your resolve. “I made a list of people I think might be working with Ramsey and Harker.”

Sevika smirks curiously.

“And you thought you’d just stroll down into the lower levels and investigate it yourself did you?”

You nod sheepishly.

She takes another long drag on her cigarette and blows the smoke out thoughtfully.

“I’m still not sure if you’re a genius, a deranged lunatic or just plain stupid.” She muses.

You chuckle to yourself at that.

“Maybe all three.” You admit with a shrug.

She eyes you thoughtfully before putting her hand out palm up towards you.

You sigh and place the list in her hands.

“What did you find out?” She asks slipping the cigarette into the corner of her mouth before taking the list in both hands to read it through.

You discuss how you’d made the list based on people who had been fired from the bar and what Bryn had told you of the Zauntorros. How he was going to find out more and get back to you in the next day or two.

“Not bad work Princess.” Sevika admits, eyebrows raised.

“Why didn’t you come to me with this sooner?” She asks taking another drink.

You hesitate for a moment unsure yourself.

“I needed to know for myself.” You confess finally.

Sevika just nods, twisting the cigarette over to the other side of her mouth.

“I’ll go down with you tomorrow.” She says in a manner that suggests there’s no discussion on her decision.

“Never pull stupid shit like this again.” She adds her eyes catching the light ominously.

~~~

Tag List

@lackofhonor @nelipt @accordionplayingrat @faraige

[ironandglass]

I just wanted to write a Silco Villain monologue scene.

Book keeper/accountant finds herself on Silcos bad side as the result of a misunderstanding and he almost tortures and kills her. You know how it is, everyone makes mistakes.

Silco/femaleOC slow burn but it uses minimal name references (maybe like two?) so you can live your best life and read it as silco x reader because that’s what we’re here for people.

TW for intimidation, power dynamic stuff, abduction, confinement and hardcore simping. You’ve been warned bb ;-)

Read part 1

Framed by Betrayal - part 2

“Do you want to know what saved you last night?”

You awaken with a start at the sound of the voice. You’re confused for a moment, in that strange bed, in that stagnant cell of a safe room.

You sit up to see Silco sitting on the edge of your bed. The scarred side of his face in profile to you. Thumbing casually through an old book that had been on the table. Your heart pounds as you’re suddenly wide awake. A rabbit awoken by a fox prowling into the den.

“It was a particular look in your eye…” he continues cooly. “A look that I recognise with deep familiarity.” His own eyes darken at that last mention. You barely notice, frozen in place as you are.

“Now normally in these situations” He gestures elegantly with his hands. “People are angry, which is just the other face of fear. They are often guilty, begging for mercy, lying, pleading even accepting…”

He suddenly turns to face you, piercing you with his calculating blue glaze. ”But you... you remained silent. You simply just looked at me. You looked at me... as if I had betrayed you.”

Silco stands, pacing the tiny room, making it seem even smaller somehow. You listen in polite, terrified silence, watching him carefully.

”Now for you to feel that way... not only does it imply a certain degree of loyalty to me.” He places a hand over his chest for emphasis.

"It proved that I was acting unjustly towards you. People can not fake these things under such duress you see. It's a raw, primal space, forcing people to reveal who they truly are. Their genuine motivations.” He moves to stand in front of you now, looking down at you, in your awkward sitting-up-in-bed pose.

“You ultimately showed me that you... are loyal” he purrs, squatting beside the bed, looming closer.

You resist the urge to back away as best you can but you do pull away slightly. He seems to notice and that draws him in closer, bracing himself against the wall by the headboard with his long arm. The air around you evaporates.

“And I prize loyalty above all else.” His powerful gaze just inches from your face holds both a threat and a promise. Your mind is blank as it holds you too long, his mismatched eyes are all that exist in that moment, it feels like they are leaching into you, staining your soul. He’s so close, that with every shallow breath, you inhale the smokey scent of him, engulfing you. Resisting the urge to move outwardly, you scream and thrash wildly inside yourself. Anxiety a tangible experience. He has ripped a hole through your cavern of a chest so that he can peer inside.

After what feels like a torturous eternity he draws away, turning and making for the door. Air rushes in as he withdraws and with relief you regain the space to breathe.

“I'm going to give you an opportunity to prove it.” He says as he strolls off, pausing in the doorway to add.

"Don't disappoint me.”

—-

By the time Sevika finally comes to collect you you're begrudgingly grateful to see her. You didn't know how long it had been but they had given you three more meals since. You had forced them down, not willing to chance any one could be your last for a while, or... forever.

You push that thought to the back of your mind as she gestures someone over who puts a giant respirator mask over your head and a big jacket that shrouds your form. You can't see anything out of the respirator helmet, the inside visor is painted black. It was not at all uncommon to see people wearing such things in the lanes and you're grateful for the anonymity.

You’re not sure where you’re going or what this chance to prove your loyalty might be but as long as it’s out of that gods forsaken room you’re happy.

You let the tall gaurd lead you with a hand on your shoulder. He's nice enough to warn you of stairs. You go through some door and they peel the disguise off.

Your eyes smart before you look around and you find yourself in an ornately decorated office. The desk has an amazing circular window behind it and the highback leather chair is framed perfectly in the halo of green glow. A gold lamp illuminates the cool space with just the tiniest bit of luxurious warm orange light in contrast to the cool green.

Sevika sits on a faded red chaise lounge in a way that suggests deep familiarity and the other two guards stand by the door. She gestures at the piles of paperwork around the desk.

"Do your thing". You stare at her in momentary despair at the thought of how important this was for you not to fuck up. She just smirks back at you and throws her arms back around the couch making herself comfortable.

You make your way over to the desk with paperwork everywhere and try to steel yourself. This is easy, you can do this. It's just systems of efficient organisation. Just like you did with Ramseys mess. Sort everything into categories, then by priority. Keep summaries and subtotals. Daily, weekly and monthly reports and everything will flow smoothly.

After some time you've laid things out all over the floor like a crazy person in complex rows and are scribbling madly on a clipboard walking around and squatting over certain sections, leafing through piles before continuing.

Sevika had fallen asleep, snoring gently, but the two door guards held you accountable. Not that you had any other plans, this was just a chance to reduce your likelyhood of immediate death and you were desperate to take it. Especially after the visit last night, his threatening monologue had been very motivating and effective.

The man certainly new how to run an empire and keep people in check. You shudder at the memory of him looming over you, his eyes holding you captive for eternity. You shake off the thought and swallow the fear that threatens to surface. Focus.

As you walk back to the desk, pen in your mouth, deciphering the most obvious lines of information you reach out for a piece of paper and pause as some primal feeling clangs violently through you. Your eyes meet Silcos as he looks across at you, mild amusement glinting in his glacial blue eye. When did he come in? How long had he been in the room? Did you accidentally summon him with your thoughts? Your mind whirls into overdrive.

The pen falls out of your mouth and you scramble to pick it up cursing yourself, waking Sevika. With a pang of dread you realise the beautiful brass pen must be his and wipe it on your shirt offering it back to him by way of placing it gently and reverently on the table. He looks at it then back at you and pushes it pointedly back towards you. "Continue" he says and then goes back to his own paperwork.

You find it hard to concentrate now, your workload totally derailed by the most powerful man in the city who, only a day or two earlier had been very close to torturing and killing you and just last night had threatened you again.

Your hand reaches back to touch your braid, tucking it over your shoulder protectively. You have to focus, or you just might still end up dead. You're a nobody, no power, no skin in the game. If you don't make yourself useful now you're dead meat. With this thought you cast a quick look over at the menacing presence, he absently runs his fingers through his hair as he reads something. Sevikas possesive angry glare catches your attention and quickly pulls you up. She's a spectacular gaurd dog you have to admit.

This quick exchange with her helps motivate you to a point beyond pretending to be doing things and gives you a chance to actually start up again. Albeit a little more self consciously. You get the burning feeling of being watched at times and decide to ignore it. The smell of cigar smoke fills the room as you continue.

You don't realise you're doing it but a few hours later you're kneeling at one end of the room grinning to yourself with the pen in your mouth again. It's nearly done, it's beautifully organised into streamlined and refined reporting systems.

A hand curls gently on your left shoulder and the pen droops, you don't freeze or tense up so much as die internally in the same way a star implodes.

You look up as Silco looks down directly at you and this time you can't help it when your ears go pink. You catch your breathing control before your face can blush like a terrified beetroot. You can’t see the scarred side of his face from this angle and he looks so much less intimidating.

You eventually realise that he expects a response as he lets go waiting patiently for you to explain.

"Well this line is your import and export trade as well as itemised lists of cargo tarrifs..." he nods along and you very slowly relax as he calmly talks to you about the organisational systems and the benefits of them. He nods and occasionally asks questions or makes adjustments. He's calm and polite and... human. He's just a person in this moment you realise as you absently gaze at him while he thinks over a problem rubbing his jaw. His eye flicks up to you suddenly and you feel oddly self conscious for a second before offering a suggestion. He gives you a strange look for a moment and then counters with a priority that helps you understand a piece of the puzzle.

"Ahhhh I see now, I'll adjust this to reflect the shipping costs in the final report then" You muse tapping your pen against your lips thoughtfully before you write it down.

You look up at the silence and he's staring at you thoughtfully. You could have sworn he glanced at your lips for a split second.

"I want you to keep working on this." You nod politely as if you had a choice. "This is just a fraction of our operation." He waved at the floor covered in neat chaotic rows of paperwork. "I wanted to see what you could do with this... and I'd like to have you do more."

"What abou-"

"Don't worry about the bar." He said gently but firmly waving a hand as if to dismiss the existence of it.

He then gives you a look that suggests you don't interrupt him again and your throat hurts. You'd become too casual in your lax comfort over the recent civil discussion. You need to remember who this man is and what he is capable of.

"That's all for today." He says dismissing you. "Sevika have the room down the hall emptied out. Show it to Amaya and arrange whatever is needed to do more of ... this." He gestures wearily at his paperwork struin office and you realise the mess you had made of his space and shrink at the thought.

You dip your head in respect and turn to leave with her.

As soon as you are out of the office you walk out into the club feeling tremendous relief to still be alive. Unfortunately, it only lasts for a split second before your skin goes ice cold. If they didn't need to hide you anymore that meant Harker was... gone.

Continue to part 3

[ironandglass]

pst *take of hoodie and sunglasses* I heard request were open for silco.....can I get some headcanons for silco smoking around the reader? maybe even blowing it into their face? ..... or mouth?

*Looks left and right before gesturing you inside.* “You’ve come to the right place.”

Silco X GenderNeutral!Reader short

TW for smoking, power dynamics, power imbalance, violence, and I guess technically non consensual touch.

Look, it honestly started out as just headcanons and then quickly evolved, wildly beyond my control. Just like Jurassic Park.

Silco’s Damn Smoking

The man was a menace.

The way he talked business casually while assaulting your senses with his intoxicating mannerisms. The way he slinks around the room with that lazy cocksure gait, like some graceful powerful beast. The way he moves his elegant hands in dramatic sweeps and gestures. The way he smokes, in particular, was so… increasingly, frustratingly, distracting to you.

How are you supposed to stay focused and discuss important business with all this going on.

You did your very best to hide how it affected you. For a man with such injuries to his face and eye you were never quite sure how much he could actually see. He seemed to never miss anything. You were worried he noticed the way your lips would part slightly as you watched him exhale the smoke from his cigar. Or the way you would breathe the smoke in deeply sometimes, savouring it.

So it’s a relief when Sevika bursts into the room, requesting a word, looking at you pointedly. You stand to leave so they can talk but he angrily waves for you to sit on the red velvet chaise lounge.

“I’ll be back shortly.” He calls over his shoulder excusing himself. Sevika closes the door behind them.

You do a very good job of waiting patiently for a time but curiosity eventually pulls you over to his desk.

You can’t resist tracing your fingertips over the cool brass of the ornate lamp, the leather bound covers of books, a complicated map of Piltover. The little timber box of cigars catches your attention. You look over your shoulder at the door and decide to risk it, lifting yourself up to sit on the desk so you can reach them.

Sliding the cover across you withdraw a single aromatic tube and bring it to your nose taking a deep inhale.

The gentle click of the door opening barely registers for a second as you enjoy the smell of the cigar held under your nose. Then the neurons fire and you open your eyes to see Silco striding cooly towards you. Shit shit shit. You start to apologise and get up but he shushes you and his hand presses gently against your knee in a demand to stay.

You feel so vulnerable, your mind races in panic. He’s smirking at you with the good side of his face, clearly amused as he plucks the cigar from your hand.

“Pass me that would you” he gestures to the small guillotine which you pass him and he promptly uses it to chop the end off with a metallic ’shing’. He places the cigar in his mouth and then looks pointedly at the lighter on his desk.

“Oh of course” you oblige him, sparking the flint wheel bringing the warm golden flame carefully to his face.

He holds your eyes with his as he takes a few chuffing draws. The sound of it sends waves of tingles down your neck. Why did this affect you so much, you don’t even notice your breathing hitch or the way your lips had slightly parted. But he certainly did.

He moves forward without warning, closing the gap between you. His thigh now pressed between your legs which hang over the edge of the desk in an intimate collision that leaves you reeling. You grip the edge of the desk beside your thighs to brace yourself. Gasping in surprise and before you can do anything else Silco grabs your face roughly in one hand, the long fingers and thumb holding you firmly in place. He’s squeezing a bit too hard but it’s… thrilling, dangerous. His free hand still lazily holding the cigar which he brings to his lips. Drawing the smoke into his mouth, swirling the flavour around as he looks deep into your eyes before blowing the thick, pungent smoke into your face. The cool air washes over you, obstructing your view for a second or two.

“No no no…” he tuts, squeezing your face even harder and bringing his lips to your ear. “You’re wasting it.” His breath is warm against your bare neck and his deep voice hums over your skin. ”Let’s try that again shall we?”

He draws back to take a another mouthful of smoke, the small embers crackling as he takes a deep drag. You see a small amount curl out of his nostrils before he brings his lips in, so close to yours. You part your lips slowly and he blows the smoke into your mouth. It feels cool and tastes… amazing. The complex flavour that you associate so deeply with him is quite different to the smell. Sweeter, richer than you had imagined. You wonder how much is the cigar and how much is him.

The veil of smoke falls away slowly and you look up at him, aching for more, much more of whatever this was.

[ironandglass]

Book keeper/accountant finds herself on Silcos bad side as the result of a misunderstanding and he almost tortures and kills her. You know how it is, everyone makes mistakes.

Silco/femaleOC slow burn but it uses minimal name references (maybe like two?) so you can live your best life and read it as silco x reader because that’s what we’re here for people.

TW for intimidation, power dynamics, power imbalance, violence, discomfort, confinement and hardcore simping. You’ve been warned bb ;-)

Tag list @lackofhonor @nelipt @accordionplayingrat @faraige

Part 1

Framed by Betrayal - part 4

Before you can turn to try and leave, the door to Silcos office bursts open. The overdressed chem punk who’s face you have just smashed walks in with blood streaming out of his nose.

“Good, you already caught her!” He growls as he strides angrily towards you.

Time seems to slow as you narrow your eyes and lean towards the threat, adjusting your stance. The audacity of this stupid man really boiled your blood. He was a meatbag symbol for everything wrong in your life right now. He strides furiously towards you, making to slap you right across the face.

Not today Fucko.

You swipe up and across clumsily blocking the first blow away from your cheek. He grabs the blocking arm and his other hand is too quick for you, slapping your face so hard your head turns towards the desk. The searing burn tingles across your jaw and your eyes meet Silcos for an empty beat. Snarling, you defiantly whip your head back up to hiss an exhale through your bared teeth, right into his bloody face. Your other arm grabs his and he chuckles at you.

“Spitfire like you…” He taunts suddenly whipping your arm around painfully behind your back forcing you to drop his as he twists you into place. “…needs reminding of her station.” He pushes your arm further up your back just a bit and you exhale a beastial panted growl of frustration while he laughs “Sump whore”.

Okay, so maybe this had been a mistake, you start to think as the pain renders you helpless. Struggling to lift yourself higher in a pathetic attempt to relieve the immense pain twisting through you. Your face reddens with rage and humiliation. You’d still do it again though you decide.

“Remind me…” Silco’s casual command cuts abruptly through the tension. You can sense more than see his eyes on you both. “What is your name again?”

The Chem Punks tight grip on your arm softens slightly as he turns towards Silco. Your gaze reluctantly follows his. You’d almost forgotten about your silent audience.

“Verrak, Sir.” Your tormentor keeps his voice politely controlled while you pant in pained discomfort, straining to stand tall.

“Verrak...” Silco rolls the name around in his mouth thoughtfully, as if tasting it. “Let’s try that again shall we?” Silco gestures towards the door.

Verrak lets your arm go and you peel away from him, rubbing your wrist. He glances between the door and Silco, clearly confused and walks awkwardly to the entryway. Silco nods for him to go further out into the hall.

“Now close the door.” Orders Silco, half smiling in mock friendliness now.

Verrak obliges, and his puzzled face is obscured by the dark wood as the door clicks shut.

There’s a few moments of painful silence before three loud knocks echo through the room. “May I come in?” Verrak pleads.

“No” says Silco plainly, turning his attention back to you now as if nothing had happened.

You look from the door to Silco, wide eyed. Did that just happen?

You’re not sure if he’s angry with you or not, his poker face is immaculately cool and unbothered. Your arm is killing you, but you still felt better off than Verrak’s bloody broken nose. Resisting an indulgent self satisfied smirk at the thought proves difficult while under the Eye of Zauns beam of scrutiny but you manage.

“We had a small disagreement.” Your explain helpfully.

Silco leans back in his chair and observes you thoughtfully for a long moment. The fingertip of his ring finger absently stroking his jawline. The way that he moves his hands so elegantly is mesmerising. His hand had been so rough on your own face when… You bristle at your own wayward thought. When he'd been about to kill you. Those same hands have definitely killed plenty of people.

With a start you suddenly remember Jinx above you and look up without moving your head to see her large eyes twinkling down from the gloom above, her delighted grin is so vicious. She definitely enjoyed the show you’d just co-starred in below.

Silco lazily seems to decide something and reaches for a drawer at his desk shuffling through paperwork.

“Join me back here at sunset tomorrow, I have some work I’d like your assistance with.” He demands casually.

“Of course” You dip your head and eagerly turn to leave, finally able to escape.

“Oh and, Amaya?.” He adds.

You freeze and turn your head over your shoulder sheepishly. He smirks at you in response.

“Please refrain from causing any more…” His eyes flick to the door and then back to you. “Disturbances between then and now.” Despite his words, the look in his eyes read as though he was pleased with what you had done, sending mixed signals.

“I’ll be here at noon tomorrow.” You confirm meekly.

Seemingly satisfied with that, he dismisses you by picking up a piece of paper and holding it up in front of him to study. You gratefully exit the room imagining Jinx's feline eyes tracking you from above as you leave.

You exhale a sigh of relief to find Verrak had already left the hallway as you shut the office door behind you. What were you thinking you ask yourself as you press the heel of your hand to your brows. You weren’t even a very good fighter. What an impulsive, stupid, mindless, self destructive fit of rage you had indulged in. You couldn’t blame the whisky for all of it but gods you had to admit, it made you feel alive.

You blow out a long, steadying breath and resolve to steel yourself against future hot headed stupidity no matter how angry you were or how exciting it might seem.

—-

Sevika greets you in the hallway and gives a nod to herself as if you surpassed some visual expectation.

“Let’s go.” She orders you to follow her with a jerk of the head. Feeling your cheeks warm in the dim club light you trail behind her. You had bathed and refreshed yourself overnight. Feeling presentable, if not attractive in the outfit you had managed to scrounge together for a change. You’d even washed your hair which was a luxury for most of your status in Zaun. You appreciated how the subtle scent of rose oil trailed behind you as you walked but now you worried that maybe you had overdone it. Your clothes were plain and modest though so you should just look… clean and tidy. Sevika was probably just messing with you, she did have a cruel, twisted sense of humour . With that realisation you lifted your chin and dismissed your insecure thoughts.

The chill air engulfed you as you walked out the front doors of The Last Drop and into the crowded streetscape. Feeling the raw expanse of the sprawling, sunken city was almost overwhelming for a moment. The green light of the eye floods The Grey with an eerie glow. Making the swirling smog hover with an ominous presence.

A violent clatter cuts through the ambience as large wheels approach on rough cobblestones. A beautiful chemcarriage rolls into view. You’d never been in one before and you look at it in awe. Only the wealthiest of Zaun used the rare high end transport. It was an ornate, black, wrought iron design with a driver sitting up the front over the chemtech engine. Sevika strolled over casually and opened the door for you both. Delicate little steps folded down to assist entry. Silco gave your wide eyed awe a smirk as he passed you to enter the carriage and you pushed down your embarrassment to follow behind him.

Within were two long plush velvet seats, facing each other. Sevika had pushed you over to sit beside Silco, her muscular bulk needing more space than either of you put together. Sevika slapped on the roof twice and the carriage lurched into motion.

Silco seemed to be genuinely enjoying your awe and appreciation for the vehicle. You give him an awkward smile feeling out of place in in the moment. “Where are we going?” you ask to try and draw attention away from yourself.

“You’ll see.” He taunts, eyes shining playfully. Sevika rolls her eyes at you both. You suddenly realise that you’re actually sitting quite close to him and try to subtly cross your legs to angle yourself further away, deeply uncomfortable.

Sevika and Silco chat casually about a situation with the Chem Barrons that you feel like you probably shouldn’t be allowed to hear.

You gaze out of the green stained glass of the Carriage window trying to politely ignore the discussion before you. The abstract shapes within twisting as you pass different light sources.

After some time, you feel the carriage stop. This time the driver opens the door, Silco exits first, then Sevika, then you, stepping out onto the little stairs and back down onto solid earth.

Taking a few steps forward to gather your bearings you find yourself looking up at an impossibly immense tower in the finest Zaunite architecture of iron and glass. It’s so tall that you have to lean back comically to see all of it. The Tower of the College of Techmaturgy. You’d heard so much about it but had never been inside. An alternative for the shining minds of Zaun rather than all of them going to the university of Piltover. You wonder what Silco has to do with it, maybe he studied here? Do they make shimmer for him? Silco breaks your thoughts sweeping past you making for the entry way, Sevika in tow. You trot to catch up, more than a little excited to see what lay within the impressive building.

The entryway is beautiful with well dressed guards in uniform lining the doorway. They step aside respectfully upon seeing Silco and Sevika. Curling polished brass in elaborate Art Deco twirls amid stained glass chandeliers and more decorative potted plants than you had ever seen before filled the lavish room. They lead you to a small hydraulic ascender (elevator) on the far wall by a … fishpond? Fish swim lazily through the crystal clear water and you gawk at the luxury in the room. They had a whole pool of crystal clean, drinkable water and they kept fish in it for decoration. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced.

The glass domed elevator has a young, uniformed boy operating it. Silco requests a destination and hands the boy a silver hex coin, an exorbitant tip. His little eyes shine as he cranks the levers and you begin to rise through various amazing, decadant rooms. You walk to the edge to see better, passing rooms full of scientists, lecture halls full of people, a room full of reptiles in tanks, animals in cages. A room filled with insects pinned to white boards. One dim room filled with glowing mushrooms. Each floor a vignette of some ethereal dreamscape. It fills your heart with hope. Maybe... if you survive your indenture you could come and work here. You smile to yourself at the thought as something inside you warmed. After struggling to get by for so long you’d forgotten that feeling. It had truly been a long time since you'd felt hope.

The elevator landed with a gentle jolt onto its desired level and the entryway door swings open for you to exit. You step out onto green... grass? Oh lords this was real grass. The air in the room was sweet and fresh and you inhale it deeply. Breathing through your nose and mouth, savouring it. The air in most parts of Zaun was often so polluted and the quality so poor that clean sweet air like this was something Zaunites relished. A true luxury that many topsiders elsewhere would never even consider valuable.

You turn to see the elevator rising away, Sevika remained inside travelling to another level. You panic a bit at the thought of being left alone with Silco with no buffer. She gives you a pointed smirk and waves tauntingly as she disappears, the bitch.

"Walk with me." He says, strolling down a path of stepping stones into a beautiful, lush garden. The path is wide enough that you can walk together, comfortably side by side.

"This started as a tutoring academy for Jinx you know." He seemed to confess, stopping to stroke the leaf of a large plant. "She had a voracious appetite for knowledge when she was young. So ambitious." He sounded proud, letting go of the leaf and continuing down the path.

"I built all of this for her, but then it evolved into something more... it became a gift to Zaun. A promise to our people that we can achieve from within, rather than losing our best minds to Piltover." The Last word dripping with disdain. He shakes it off and gestures for you to smell a striped yellow and orange flower. You inhale the sweet vanilla scent and smile, it’s amazing.

"A rare orchid, Grammatophyllum speciosum, imported all the way from Ionia."

You walk further with him as he talks about different plants you find yourself... deeply moved by his knowledge and passion for them. How tenderly he touches the leaves. How lightly he grasps the stems. He's so tactile in his enjoyment. Can this be the same person? Once again you find yourself struggling to separate the monster from the man. The duality of him ever present, even in his eyes. One blue, expressive and human, the other one black and red, unblinking, macabre. Kind actions tempered by beastly violence. He was a complex and unpredictable element that you were unsure how to proceed with.

You nod politely as he talks about a large green leaved vine but when your attention piques suddenly and skitters behind him you can't help but follow your curiosity, brushing past him and his explanation mid sentence.

You kneel in awe of the delicate white spiked flowers running your hand lightly over them.

“What are these ones?” You ask excitedly, turning back to look at Silco over your shoulder glowing with joy and awe.

When your eyes reach his and you see the terrible anger written in the deep lines of his face your smile falters and you shrink slightly away from him in fear.

His eyes unexpectedly soften at your terrified response, followed by the rest of his face. You relax slightly, frozen, unsure what to do. He sighs, walking towards you and dropping to one knee by your side, reaching out to run a hand over the flowers just as you had.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have interrup-“ you start.

“-No, It’s fine. It’s refreshing that you’re genuinely interested.” He waves his hand gently around the flowers enjoying how they move with his touch. “Jinx and Sevika are only interested in the carnivorous plants in the toxic arboretum.” You both think that over that for a moment.

“I prefer these… harmless beautiful ones.” The unspoken word ‘useless’ hangs in the air, implied somehow.

He catches your eye again. “Orthosiphon aristatus.” He offers. “Commonly known as cats whiskers.”

You smile at the name waving another hand over them. The petals tickle your palm and you smile.

“They do feel like cats whiskers.” You admit.

He half smiles back at you pushing himself up to his feet before offering you a hand. You take it, appreciatively but also fearing that if you don’t he would be deeply offended. He gently pulls you to your feet with minimal effort. You’re surprised his lithe, wiry form holds that much strength. When his warm hand leaves yours, you catch your thoughts lingering on the touch longer than you like to admit. It was surprisingly gentle considering how terrified you were of him. Once again, you understood that a man could be violent and gentle but it was still confusing to have experienced both.

You continue to walk together around the path but now Silco waits for you to ask about a plant you’re interested in before talking about it. It’s… nice. You can hardly believe you’re enjoying his company considering he had nearly killed you only a few nights earlier. Which you had very much not forgotten. He is dangerous you will yourself to remember that cold hard fact.

“So, did you bring me here just to show me flowers?” You ask suddenly keeping your eyes forward, afraid to see his expression.

He hums in response, exhaling through his nose.

“Or is this an apology?” You press, this time turning to meet his eyes.

His ice blue eye shoots you a wry warning before he chuckles and replies.

“I thought we could both use a reminder that life is not always such a constant struggle.”

You tilt your head and nod, unable to argue with that.

“But we are here on business as well as pleasure I’m afraid.” He pauses again at the end of the path to place his hand on a large green leaf near the elevator entrance as if to say goodbye.

“There’s a small team of scientist here, I’d like you to look over their inventory paperwork and make sure everything is accounted for.” You nod soberly as he pulls a crank labeled ‘Summon Hydraulic Descender’. Gears start to whirr wildly.

“We should go and pay them a visit I suppose.” He adds wearily, as if at loathe to leave the garden.

As he steps into the elevator his relaxed posture shifts into a proud stance. His head raised and his shoulders back, a commanding confident front. That must be exhausting you consider as the elevator boy opens the door for you and follows Silco’s instruction, loudly cranking various levers.

As the elevator rises gently, you watch the beautiful garden sink away below.

Continue to part 5

[ironandglass]

Silco in this fit tho.

[ironandglass]

Silcos voice got simps like-