Arcane: Ekko and Powder

The winding paths of the Undercity were quieter at night. The usual chaos of Zaun's streets settled into an eerie calm, broken only by the faint clattering of machinery and the occasional murmur of distant voices. The sky above was a murky haze of gray-green smog, but high up in certain corners, where the buildings thinned and the air felt just a bit less oppressive, stars peeked through like tiny, distant promises.

Ekko and Powder sat on an old metal platform that jutted out over one of Zaun's towering drop-offs. They had climbed up earlier in silence, each lost in their own thoughts after the long day. Ekko had suggested they take a break from everything—no pranks, no fights, no worries. Just some time to breathe. Powder had agreed without a word, a rare moment of quiet acceptance from the usually rambunctious girl.

Now, they sat side by side, their legs dangling over the edge. Below them, the city sprawled in all its chaotic glory—pipes and vents hissing steam, neon lights flickering in patches of vibrant color, and people moving like shadows through the narrow streets. But up here, it felt like they were in their own little world, far away from all of it.

Ekko glanced at Powder out of the corner of his eye. She was staring at the sky, her chin resting on her knees, her blue hair falling in loose strands around her face. Her expression was soft, contemplative, a far cry from the mischievous grin she usually wore.

"You ever wonder what it's like up there?" she asked suddenly, her voice quiet but clear. She didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on the faint twinkling of the stars above.

Ekko tilted his head, following her line of sight. "You mean Piltover?"

Powder shook her head. "No. Further than that. Beyond Piltover. Beyond everything." She gestured vaguely at the sky, her fingers tracing invisible patterns. "Like... where the stars are. You think it's quiet up there? Peaceful?"

Ekko leaned back on his hands, considering her question. He'd never really thought about it before. His dreams were grounded, rooted in the idea of making things better down here—fixing the broken, building something new. The stars had always seemed so far away, so untouchable.

"Maybe," he said after a moment. "But I think it'd be kind of lonely too. Nothing but empty space all around you. No people, no noise, no... life."

Powder frowned slightly, her fingers still tracing patterns. "I don't think it'd be lonely," she said softly. "I think it'd be... freeing. Like you could go anywhere, do anything, and no one could tell you what to be or who to be. You'd just... exist."

Ekko watched her for a moment, noting the wistfulness in her voice. Powder had always been a dreamer, caught between the chaotic reality of their world and the wild stories she loved to imagine. He admired that about her—the way she could see past the grime and struggle, how she always managed to find wonder in the smallest things.

"Maybe," he said finally, his tone gentle. "But I think I'd miss having people around. I'd miss... you."

Powder turned to look at him then, her blue eyes wide and searching. There was a vulnerability there, one she rarely let anyone see. "You think so?" she asked, her voice almost hesitant.

"Yeah," Ekko said simply. He met her gaze without flinching, his expression steady and sincere. "You're kind of hard to replace, Powder."

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The air between them felt heavy, not with tension, but with something deeper—something unspoken. Powder's cheeks flushed slightly, and she quickly looked away, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

"You're such a sap," she muttered, though there was no bite in her tone.

Ekko chuckled, the sound light and warm. "Yeah, well, someone's gotta balance out all the trouble you get us into."

Powder huffed, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward in a small, reluctant smile. "I don't get us into that much trouble."

Ekko raised an eyebrow. "You want me to list all the times we've almost been caught because of one of your 'brilliant plans'?"

Powder groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Okay, okay, maybe a little trouble," she admitted.

"A little?" Ekko teased, nudging her shoulder lightly with his own.

"Fine. A lot," Powder conceded, her voice muffled against her palms. She peeked at him through her fingers, her eyes sparkling with amusement now. "But you wouldn't trade it, would you?"

Ekko shook his head, his smile softening. "Not for anything."

Powder dropped her hands, her expression turning serious again. She looked at him for a long moment, as if searching for something in his face. Finally, she spoke, her voice quieter this time.

"Do you think things will ever change, Ekko? Like... really change? Not just for us, but for everyone down here?"

Ekko hesitated, the weight of her question pressing down on him. He wanted to believe in a better future. He had to believe it. But the reality of their world was harsh, unforgiving. Change felt like an impossible dream most days.

"I don't know," he admitted honestly. "But I think... if we stick together, if we keep fighting for it, maybe we can make things better. Even if it's just a little bit."

Powder nodded slowly, her gaze drifting back to the stars. "Yeah. Maybe."

They fell into silence again, the kind that didn't need filling. The sounds of Zaun faded into the background, leaving only the soft hum of the night and the faint twinkling of the stars above.

After a while, Powder leaned her head against Ekko's shoulder, her movements tentative, as if testing the waters. When he didn't pull away, she relaxed, letting out a quiet sigh.

"Thanks, Ekko," she said softly.

"For what?"

"For always being here," she said. "For putting up with me. For... everything."

Ekko smiled, tilting his head slightly to rest against hers. "Always," he said simply.

And in that moment, with the stars above and the city below, it felt like the world had paused just for them. For all the chaos and uncertainty in their lives, they had this—this quiet, unshakable bond that nothing could take away.

Whatever the future held, they knew one thing for sure: they would face it together.