#fanfic author appreciation day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kikiiswashere · 2 years

Text

Children of Zaun - Chapter 5

Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, eventual smut

Notes: Happy Fanfic Author Appreciation Day, everyone!! To celebrate, here's a new chapter for this passion project!

Chapter Summary: Silco introduces Katya to Zaun.

Chapter CW: Mild episode of PTSD, and a discussion where rape is implied/discussed

Previous Chapter

Word count: 5.3K

Silco led Katya up, up, up. Clambering over roof after roof until the denseness of the Sump was left below. Then, the haziness of the Entresol was behind them. Finally, Silco stopped on the large, flat roof of a tall merchant building of the Undercity’s Promenade level.

Katya tried not to huff and puff. It had been a long time since she had scaled the Sump all the way up to the Promenade in one go. Her skin was damp and chilly underneath her father’s coat, and her lungs stretched and complained at the rapid change in atmosphere and physical exertion. Katya caught the glean of sweat glowing against Silco’s cheekbones under the moonlight and felt better about her strained efforts.

From their current vantage point, Katya saw all of Piltover sprawled out before her across the River Pilt. Warm yellow lights twinkled through the districts, gradually increasing in numbers as the buildings got taller and grander, the city sloping up the mountain it rested upon. The white rock that had shone in the sunlight earlier that day now glowed under the moon’s face. The gold filagree etched into the mighty towers glistened like water in the dark. Katya’s eyes skirted over the city, resting once the silhouette of the Academy campus rose up.

She hoped Viktor had a good day at school.

“Katya.”

It was the first time Silco said her name and it startled her. His low, smooth timbre sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. She turned and saw that he had moved to the far end of the roof. He jerked his head, indicating for her to come over. She turned away from Piltover and strode across the roof.

On this side, the canyon of the Undercity gaped beneath them. Colorful lights flickered and danced in the crevasses. The hum of music and voices drifted out from below, swirling and dispersing on the breeze. The canyon rocks made interesting shapes in-between Conveyor tracks, apartments, and bridges. Earth and man came together in spots, rocks held into place by great beams of iron. Parts of the Undercity’s walls – iron and rock – were painted. Some were elaborate, thought-out murals. Others were fast, impulsive swatches of graffiti.

Suddenly, Silco broke the silence between them. “Lovely, isn’t it?”

Katya looked up at him. ‘Lovely’ was not a word she had used or ever heard to describe the Undercity. But looking at it now, from this angle, she could consider the adjective.

“What do you see?” he asked.

Katya was lost for words. What was she supposed to see? What answer was he looking for? Katya rarely gave her home a second thought. There were other things that needed her attention. Having been silent for too long, Silco tilted his head to look at her. He didn’t repeat himself. He waited.

Katya looked back over the Undercity.

“I see a gaping wound. It’s festering. Gangrenous.”

Katya’s gold eyes looked defiantly up into Silco’s cyan ones, daring him to become angry with her answer and bypass it. Instead, he hummed thoughtfully. Irritatingly.

“And who’s fault is that?”

Katya’s brows knit together. “You know, I never said Piltover wasn’t to blame. I said your ideas are dangerous and foolish.”

The smallest, most infinitesimal, smirk tilted the corner of Silco’s mouth. “And I never said our plans weren’t.”

He turned back toward the Undercity, resting large, lithe hands on the wall that separated them from a significant drop off the building. Silco’s eyes skirted over the shadows, lights, and silhouettes, an increasing fondness filling them. Katya caught herself staring, wondering.

How could someone look so sharp and soft at the same time?

“I’ve never left the Undercity,” Silco suddenly began. “I was born in the very mines you and I work in – “

“Your mother is a miner?”

“Was,” Silco corrected. “A Slipper.”

Katya felt her tongue press against the roof of her mouth and her eyes widen. After large-bodied miners like Sevika, Slippers had the next most hazardous job in the mines. Their task was to start and widen new tunnels so that new veins could be followed and exploited. Their small and svelte bodies were ideal for slipping into crevasses to place explosives. However, such tight, compact spaces meant denser concentrations of the noxious gases that wafted up from underground. If Slippers weren’t crushed by cave-ins or blown to pieces by faulty explosives, they almost always developed some kind of chronic illness due to the exposure.

“I – I’m sorr-“

“She’s not dead,” Silco snapped, eyes flashing as his head turned to look at her.

It was the most emotion Katya had heard out of him and it left her mouth and brain empty of words. Silco’s ire was as quick to simmer down as it bubbled up. His eyes flicked down to his boots before pulling out his cigarette tin from his trouser pocket. He placed a pre-rolled one between his lips and struck a flimsy match against the stone of the building.

“She left the mines five years ago,” Silco grunted through the paper, smoke streaming out from between his teeth. “After that other medic found. . . “

He trailed off, hard gaze fixed straight ahead. Katya didn’t need him to finish. She knew what Will had found. She’d diagnosed it herself in other miners. Some cancerous blight that settled into the lobes of the lungs and caked the trachea. Sometimes the illness was swift, other times it was slow. Regardless, it was always painful and always led to death.

Before Katya could stop herself, she murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Silco blew a long stream of smoke out into the air above them.

“How is she?”

The question – the genuine question – made him start. He looked to the woman beside him, her big amber eyes watery with empathy.

Silco sighed and shrugged. “She’s alive. She’s sick,” he took another drag from his cigarette. “I convinced her to leave the mines in order to buy her more time. She bakes bread to sell to vendors at the market and tailors garments now.”

Katya hummed thoughtfully. “I’d imagine nimble Slipper fingers would translate well to seamstress work.”

“We get by,” Silco grumbled, tapping his ash off the building’s ledge. “But like so many, only just.”

Once again, Silco focused an intent gaze on Katya’s face. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you and your family getting by?”

“It’s only me and my brother,” Katya mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. She told herself it was the wind and not the coil of vulnerability gathering behind her navel. Again, Silco waited. Katya was perturbed by how he seemed to be able to pull words from her mouth with a look alone. She sucked her lips against her teeth and looked to the Undercity.

“Our father died almost two years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. How?”

Katya glared at Silco and his prying question.

“He was murdered by an Enforcer,” Katya finally said quietly. “He and I were walking home after a shift, talking about . . . our plan to supplement our income and financially ensure Viktor’s spot at the Academy. The Enforcer overheard us.”

The canvas of Katya’s coat scratched and rasped under her tightening fingers. Flashes of that night swirled through her mind.

The warm night.

The dark street.

The Enforcer’s voice echoing through his mask.

Her body going cold with panic.

Nearly pissing herself when the Enforcer grabbed her.

The horrifying snarl that ripped

through her father’s mouth

as he lunged at the Enforcer.

Being thrown against a dumpster as the two men brawled.

The wind being knocked out of her.

The sharp ache in her ribs.

The Enforcer fell.

Katya’s father stomped on his ankles.

Bones crushing. Hollow wails.

From the ground, the Enforcer delivered one blow of his baton to Katya’s father’s head.

His skull cracked and caved.

The blunt end of the baton squelching

against exposed brain matter.

Her father fell.

“What happened to the Enforcer?”

Katya gave the slightest of starts, pulled back to the present by Silco’s voice. Her fingers ached with the grip she had on her coat. Her eyes and mouth were dry. She blinked, licked her lips, and took a long breath in.

“I killed him. Shot him.”

Silco gave a somber, understanding nod. He stubbed the end of his cigarette out on the wall and flicked the butt into the alley below. Another moment of silence before he asked, “What about your mother?”

Katya stiffened even more. She felt brittle. Too rigid. As if the smallest touch would leave her crumbling. Disintegrating. Her molars steeled against one another, hearing the bones squeak inside her ears. She could tell him. What difference did it make now? She could tell him. Just not look at him while she did so.

“She left a few weeks after Viktor was born,” Katya said, her voice carefully distant. “I would imagine that she could not stand to watch him try and live, nor could she stand the thought of killing him mercifully. Papa – my father,” she quickly corrected, “woke up one day and she was gone. Her, her clothes, gone. He tried to find her, but . . . never did. I don’t know where she went. If she’s still skulking around the Sump or if she somehow left and went to . . . Bilgewater or something. Maybe she’s dead, too,” Katya softly finished.

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

Quiet fell over the pair again, their eyes fixed upon the flickering, colorful expanse of the Undercity. Katya felt the terrible quake of vulnerability behind her navel growing. The thrashing need to protect herself clawing at her insides. It wasn’t necessary, it wasn’t right, but she said it anyway.

“You know who you look like, right?”

The minute the words left her mouth, she wished she could snatch them back up. She held her breath, waiting for Silco to bite back. His expression remained unnervingly neutral. Katya felt a shameful blush bloom at her neck and on the high points of her cheeks.

Finally, Silco let a long breath out through his telling nose. “Of course I do.”

“Does – does he know?” Katya asked, lacing the question with a kind tone hoping to make up for the rude one.

Something flickered behind Silco’s eyes. Too brief to name, but for a split second his demeanor shifted.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I make a point to avoid him if I hear that he’s visiting the mines. Although,” Silco mused, “I doubt I’m the only one. I doubt my mother was the only – “

He broke off, emotion tightening around his throat as it had when he first spoke of her.

After a beat Silco tried again, his tone forcefully breezy, “I would imagine that’s the idea behind it. Create more workers for his mine. Being able to further abuse Zaunites while doing so is just icing on the Piltover Petit Four.”

Katya’s mind spun and her heart ached. Generally speaking, it didn’t surprise her that Rynweaver would do such things, but being face-to-face with such monstrousness was extremely unsettling. Equally present in her whirling dervish of a mind was the term Silco had used for members of the Undercity: Zaunite.

It sent a flutter under Katya’s skin. She didn’t dare look at the feeling too hard, but it had the same sweet, dangerous, addicting sensation as hope.

“It’s not right what they do to us, Katya,” Silco said. “This isn’t about revenge or even what’s fair. It isn’t right that Zaunites are forced to suffer just because we were born on the other side of the river.”

Katya’s tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth as hope dared to keep tickling against her heart. Making occasional deeper sweeps against the organ like firelight wings.

“They don’t care. Have never cared. Will never care. Occasionally, they try to distract us by doing things like inviting a Zaunite into Council Chambers,” Silco continued, tone edged. “But even then, nothing actually changes. You know when Bone dies, they will rescind the few measures he’s passed for the mines.”

Katya flinched. Yes, she knew that.

“Zaun and its people deserve the same respect and opportunity that Piltover has,” Silco’s blue eyes fixed onto Katya in a meaningful stare. “I am glad for your brother that he is able to spend his time somewhere that is less detrimental to his physical well-being.”

Katya’s eyes flashed warningly at the mention of Viktor.

“But such things shouldn’t be dependent on chance,” Silco spurred on, face and voice earnest. “Your brother should’ve always had the opportunity to go to the Academy, if that’s what he wanted. Not only to be allowed in under the slimmest of circumstances.

“It shouldn’t be a luxury for him or my mother to live in a place where the very air isn’t a danger to them. Your mother deserved to bear children into a world where she felt safe and capable to do so. Not one that choked her with such fear that she felt compelled to abandon you and your brother. Your father should’ve been able to walk home without fear of being killed for simply looking for ways to support his family. Your clients should have access to complete and comprehensive medical care.”

Katya wondered if Silco was aware of the fervent quiver in his usually steady voice. She wondered if he knew the cool façade he had worn since meeting him was slipping.

“And what’s more,” Silco continued, his tongue flicking against his lips as he continued to hold Katya’s gaze, “You deserve opportunity and respect, Katya. You shouldn’t have needed to work to help support your family when you were six. Your parents shouldn’t have been taken away from you, leaving you to figure out how to keep your brother alive. You deserve more than just eking out meager survival, Katya.”

Katya realized she had stopped breathing. She sucked in a breath and was surprised at how raspy her voice was when she said, “You don’t even know me – “

“I don’t need to know you to know that you deserve more. Are worthy of more than the insufficient, insulting scraps Piltover leaves you. Leaves us. I deserve more. Sevika deserves more. Vander, Benzo, your brother, my mother, we all,” he made a sweeping gesture out toward the Undercity, “deserve more.”

Silence fell between the two, although Katya was sure she could hear Silco’s heart thundering from behind his sternum. Could he hear hers?

“Piltover will never see us as worthy of respect or opportunity,” Silco quietly said. “They will never give those things to us. We will have to take them.”

Katya pried her jaw open and took a long shuddering breath. She finally allowed her eyes to leave Silco’s face. They quickly peered over to Piltover before landing on the Undercity again. Her brow furrowed. Had the view changed?

“What do you see?” she asked. “What do you see when you look at . . . Zaun?”

Silco spared her a thoughtful glance before turning once again to the towers, spires, cliffs, and crags of the Undercity. Of Zaun. He set his hands against the low wall in front of them and shifted his weight between his feet. A breeze swept through the canyon and over the Promenade’s rooftops. It ruffled Silco’s hair and sent Katya’s braid swaying across her back. The tips and edges of the wind smelled like dirt, metal, brine and fry bread.

“I don’t think you’re wrong to see a wound,” he began. “Zaun is suffering. But despite that suffering, it presses on. Has always pressed on. Piltover put their boot on us from the jump, but they haven’t been able to fully quash us.

“When I look at Zaun, I see a nation and people full of grit and color. I see a place where people are determined and steadfastly loyal to their Brothers and Sisters. Hardworking, always striving for something better. Because they know they’re worthy of it. They’re ready for it.

“Reaching for and securing Zaun’s – our – independence would mean securing the respect and opportunity that is our birthright. To have the means to feed and clothe our children. To develop the infrastructure to create safe, breathable air. Repair crumbling districts. To be able to create a government that actual serves and supports its people. That actually understands them. Values them.”

Silco paused, his eyes still traveling over the Undercity. Katya watched him, her gaze glued to his profile. After a beat, Silco stood to his full height, hands coming to rest at his sides. He turned to Katya. She didn’t look away.

“That’s what I see. Tenacity, grit, loyalty, color, and fire. Powerful in a way Piltover doesn’t understand. Powerful enough to be self-governing. This foolishness, as you call it, is not passing. It’s never been. It’s only ever been building. Now is the time. Your time. My time. Zaun’s time.”

Katya swallowed, lubricating her mouth and throat so her next words wouldn’t crack out. “Be that as it may, what if I don’t agree to join you? The Children of Zaun. Are you going to report me?”

Silco shook his head. “No. We will not report you if you don’t join, that undermines the very loyalty I spoke of earlier. You’re doing what you need to do, we won’t get in the way of that. We need medical supplies and help. Reaching out to you seemed like the easiest option. What we’re doing is already hard enough. But if you don’t help us, we will find another way.”

Katya’s brow creased and she finally broke Silco’s gaze, her eyes dropping to the ground. Then out to the Undercity. Her mind was racing, body vibrating, heart squeezing.

“I – I don’t have an answer for you,” she said quietly. “I don’t know if I can help.”

Katya looked back up at Silco, expecting to see disappointment on his face. Anticipating him to launch into another attempt at persuasion. Instead, she found understanding. Reluctant understanding, but understanding nonetheless.

“If you change your mind,” he said, “you know where to find us. I won’t lie. I hope you change your mind. We need you.”

Katya wrestled down the scoff that wanted to burst through her throat. She found the last bit to be a bit much, and she told herself it was manipulative. Even if he sounded sincere. Feeling fidgety, Katya pulled her pocket watch out and checked the time. It was late.

“I should go,” she whispered, tucking her watch back in its pocket. “Good night, Silco.”

Katya turned and headed back toward the side they had clambered up. She swung her legs over the edge and readied herself to swing and jump. Before she did, a thought struck her. She turned back to Silco. He was still by the far wall, his backside leaning against the building, his fingers clenching the lip of the concrete on either side of his hips. He watched her.

“You may already know this,” Katya began, “but don’t smoke around your mother. It’s bad for her condition.”

Silco nodded and smirked. “You going to bill me for that?”

Katya rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t smoke anyway. It’s bad for you, too.”

“Good night, Katya,” Silco droned.

With that, Katya slipped down back into the Sump.

Katya didn’t think about or notice the route she took home. She was wired and exhausted at the same time. Her mind buzzed and her limbs felt like jelly. She barely realized she was home when she turned the key in its lock. She shouldered the door open and slid inside.

Katya closed the door and reset the locks. After a beat, her forehead thudded against the door. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. Her lungs stretched her ribs and the middle part of her spine popped as her torso expanded. She forced a long, windy exhale through pursed lips and pushed herself off the door, stepping into the kitchen. She put the oats in the cabinet and her remaining payment from Pfeffer in a hidey-hole under the sink. She hung her coat by the door and trudged to her bedroom.

She hoped Silco was being honest, that he nor his Brothers would say anything about her side operation. She had no reason to trust him, but she didn’t really have a reason to not trust him either. Katya shook her head, turning her room’s lamp on. She still couldn’t believe Sevika had betrayed her trust like that. She knew Sevika hadn’t meant anything malicious by it, but Katya was rattled by her lack of consideration. She was angry.

Katya unclipped her watch from her vest and set it on the nightstand. The vest came off next. She groaned when the tight muscles in her shoulders and upper back protested the movement. She hung the garment on her bed’s post and flopped down onto her thin mattress. She propped her elbows on her knees, heavy head held in her hands as she stared at the floor between her boots.

She really didn’t want it to be the case, but Silco’s words about Zaun and Piltover echoed within her. Not just her head, but her whole body. They weighed on her chest.

She knew it wasn’t right how Piltover treated the Undercity.

. . . what they do to us . . .

Katya flinched. It was interesting . . . she was a citizen of the Undercity. Had been born here. Had never left here. And yet, before tonight, she had somehow maintained a level of separation between herself and Piltover’s abuse. An ache was surfacing just under her skin. Something too deep to be new. Something she had unwittingly been pressing down for years . . . maybe her whole life.

. . . you deserve opportunity and respect, Katya . . .

Katya shot to her feet and began undressing. She tore her blouse and camisole off. As the chill air in the apartment hit her breasts, she growled and flung her clothes into the corner. She had forgotten to stop by Babette’s dumpster. Aggravatedly, she pulled the button fly of her trousers apart and shucked them down her thighs. Only to cry out in frustration again, as she had forgotten to remove her boots. She yanked the boots off and tossed them away, quickly followed by her pants.

Katya angrily jerked a dresser drawer open and as her hands searched for a sleepshirt, her body gave a mild jolt. She was grateful for the interruption in her blinding ire, but unsettled when it was replaced by the same simmering ache as before. She gripped the dresser drawer and hung her head, the weight of her skull stretching the muscles in her neck and shoulders.

For so long, her purpose, her reason was Viktor. Even before her father was killed. Everything she did, she did for him. She loved him so much. He deserved the best possible life available to him. He deserved to go to school, not only be accepted to one under wild chance. He deserved the medical care he needed. He deserved a mother and a father. He deserved to be happy. He deserved to live. He deserved everything.

She loved him so much.

But . . . she deserved that, too. She had forgotten, or had never fully realized. The wanting, the truth, the ache that came with Silco’s words warred within her.

The wanting for Viktor and other children of the Undercity to have every single opportunity afforded to Piltovian children.

The truth that she deserved it, too. The truth that she deserved it because she simply existed. That she had inherent value.

The ache that she had never looked at that truth. Never knew to look at it. Seek it out. The ache that years of abuse and living in survival mode had nearly beat it out of her.

Katya slowly lifted her head, wiped the wet from her eyes, and pulled a shirt from the drawer. She went to bed.

Katya arrived to the clinic early the following day. She had slept fitfully, finally giving up two hours before she needed to rise. Will had been finishing up the last of the physicals on Mining Unit 147 and was shocked to see her stagger in. He finished up with the Slipper Yordle he was examining and ushered the matted miner out the door.

“Katya,” he hushed, carefully eying her haggard face, “you’re very early. Is everything ok?”

Katya’s head bobbled in an affirming fashion. “Yes. I just couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to sit around my home, so I thought I would just come in. When does the next round come down?”

Will’s eyes crinkled and he adjusted his glasses. “In about twenty minutes.”

He watched his younger co-worker drift through the office, lazily organizing things. She floated to the filing cabinets and pulled out the stack of files for Unit 148. With the folders in hand, she turned and went to the examination room. She had left the filing cabinet drawer open. Will’s lips pursed and he gently pushed his fingers against the cabinet, sliding the door closed.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked again. “You seem . . . off.”

“Just tired,” she answered, stifling a yawn. She opened the top file and scanned its contents. “I’ll help with the physicals until you can go home.”

A couple hours and several dirty miners later, Will pulled his coat on and prepared to leave. As he fingered his coat buttons through their slots, he adjusted his stance to peer back toward the examination room where Katya was finishing up taking notes before filing the folders away. She seemed more awake than when she arrived, but still . . . distant. Foggy.

With his coat fully closed, Will went back to the exam room. He placed a hand on Katya’s shoulder, and she ever so slightly turned her head to acknowledge him.

“Don’t work so hard today. It doesn’t matter anyway,” he reminded.

Katya huffed sardonically through her nose and Will squeezed her shoulder before turning and leaving. As the sound of the blinds rattling against the clinic door died down, Katya closed the file she was writing in and tossed it on the rest of the pile. She rubbed her lips together and ran her fingers through her hair. Her mind felt full and empty at the same time. The ache remained under her skin.

Katya reached for her pocket watch, noted the time and wondered. The next unit of miners wouldn’t be arriving for another 30 minutes. Her fingers squeezed against the watch and her jaw set. With more purpose than she had moved with all morning, Katya rose from the swivel chair and strode into the supply closet. She pulled the light string and her eyes automatically drifted to the high strength decongestants. Her tongue worked against the back of her teeth as the war inside her raged on.

She needed to pick a side.

Snatching one of the glass bottles from the shelf, she turned the light off and left the closet.

Steeling herself, Katya entered the mine’s main cavern. She did not venture into the mining tunnels often. Only when called. Usually, to transport a dead or dying body, sometimes to deal with a medical emergency that couldn’t be brought to the clinic. Strings of white industrial lights were strung along the walls and through the empty space of the shaft above, illuminating the rocks and miners in harsh light and hiding others in sharp shadows. The lights traveled down hundreds of narrower tunnels, leading every which way from the mine’s main cathedral. Shouts of people, grinding of machines, rattling of carts and hammering of tools filled and echoed through the air. Katya’s heart thudded against her ribs as she strode toward the command center – a sheet metal hut at the center of the cavern.

Katya knocked loudly against the door and waited. Agitated grumbles were the only warning before the metal door was thrown open. The mine’s lead foreman glowered down at her.

“What?”

“I need to know the location of Unit 90. I have testing reports to give one of the miners.”

The foreman’s lip curled. “Wait here.”

When he disappeared back into the command center, Katya felt her shoulders slacken in relief. She had been expecting more push back. The foreman’s large body filled the doorway once more.

“Unit 90 is in the West end. Fissure number 262.”

Katya had already turned heel before the door was slammed in her face.

West end, Fissure 262 was an older excavation. Its tunnels were much wider, the air not as thick with fumes. In fact, the center of the fissure widened enough that a large turbine had been installed into the vertical opening to increase air flow. Despite the years of working on this particular tunnel, its walls still produced ore. Katya kept a careful distance between herself and the miners picking away at the walls, not wanting to catch the sharp ends of their tools. Her eyes searched up and down the winding paths and alcoves of the fissure, mindful of the gazes upon her. She knew wondering, prying eyes on her. Her clothes were too clean, skin too soft to belong in this part of the mine. She felt their judgement, their envy, their hunger.

She felt angry for them. They didn’t deserve this.

At last, Katya spied the familiar frame of Sevika. She was supporting a massive column of rock with the whole of her body, legs angled and braced behind her as her thick arms wrapped around the stone. Silco was weaving around her, throwing ties and nets around the large rock. A few yards away from the pair, a crane waited. Clearly this piece was needing to be moved as a single unit.

Silco scrambled up the leaning column and signaled to the crane operator. The large piece of machinery rumbled forward, its heavy metal hooks swaying dangerously. As Silco deftly grabbed the crane’s claws, his eyes landed on Katya. They widened momentarily and Katya felt a jolt similar to the one she felt the night prior pull through her. Silco was quick to hook the rock to the crane and jumped to the ground. Only when the crane’s arm hissed to life and began lifting the prize aloft did Sevika let go. She rolled her shoulders and flexed her hands, watching the stone be carefully transported to a waiting cart. She turned to say something to Silco, but quickly realized he was striding away from her. She bit her tongue, confused until she saw Katya standing at the mouth of the tunnel. Sevika’s heart skipped a beat and froze, nervous about what it meant for Katya to be down there.

Silco was far less perturbed by her presence, even if he wasn’t sure why she had shown up. Was she going to tell him and his cause to fuck off? Or . . . something else? He swiftly made his way over, curiosity beating out nerves.

Curiosity gave way to confusion when Katya reached out and grabbed his hand when he was close enough. He felt a small, cold piece of glass between his calloused palm and her smooth one. Before he could find his voice, Katya gave his hand a strong tug that pulled his body close to hers. Katya tilted her face up towards Silco’s ear and he compliantly dipped his head down.

“This is a high strength decongestant,” she whispered. “Have your mother take ten milliliters at breakfast and another ten with her afternoon tea. It won’t cure, but it will help.”

Silco was lost for words. His tongue worked furiously to find some.

“I – I can’t pay for this,” he finally whispered back.

Katya squeezed his hand, pressing the bottle firmly into Silco’s palm.

“You don’t need to,” she replied. She pulled back slightly so she could look up at his face, but her hand remained clasped around his. Gold met blue. “When do we meet?”

Silco’s hand squeezed back then.

“Thank you.”

Notes: Thank you so much for reading! If you like my work and want to support it, please leave a comment and reblog. It means the world to me!

Also, I've been asked to start a tag list for this fic. If you'd like to be added, just let me know :)

Coming Up Next: Undercity Councilor Bone and Professor Heimerdinger meet for their standing lunch date, which leads to Bone meeting Viktor for the first time. Heimerdinger shares a secret with his peer. Enyd feels conflicted about the medicine Silco presents her, and Katya attends her first Children of Zaun meeting.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @pinkrose1422

#silco #silco arcane #silco fanfic #arcane fanfic #silco x oc #young silco #toot toot! all abroad the slow burn romance train #children of zaun #coz #happy fanfic author appreciation day!

22 notes · View notes