Chapter 1: Should've Known to Expect Fuck All
Chapter Text
The first time Sevika steps into the bright light of the Council chamber, she won’t look at her. Whether it’s anger or hurt that blooms in her chest, Sevika isn’t sure, but it deepens her scowl even as Shoola averts her eyes.
It would be just like a Piltie to refuse to look at her even after a moment of shared grief as they’d shared on the bridge. Together they’d lit the names of hundreds of their loved ones and neighbors and sent them to Janna’s blessing. Now, barely a week later, Shoola won’t even turn her face in Sevika’s direction.
Should’ve known to expect fuck all, Sevika thinks and tries not to grind her teeth at the arc of hostile eyes aimed at her by the other councilors. Should’ve known to expect fuck all.
~~*~~
She’s not sure what life is like for the other councilors, but Sevika is damn sure she has the worst lot out of all of them. She spends her days either clenching her jaw until it creaks as the other Councilors scoff at her proposals or poring over paperwork and reports until her eyeballs burn from exhaustion. No matter how prepared she feels to to present options for Zaun’s improvement and development, she’s never prepared enough. Whenever she thinks there can’t possibly be more questions to answer or more topics to explain, the other councilors come up with something to pile on top of her. On some evenings, she returns to her office and yells every swear word she knows just to ease the knot of frustration and anxiety in her chest.
She’d like to give up this fool’s errand, but a seat on the Council is the closest Zaun has ever come to equal recognition from Piltover, so she screams her swear words and endures.
Despite all this, the first vote she calls on a proposal for Zaun’s development goes far better than she hopes. On the matter of allocating funds for schools in Zaun, the Council’s agreement is unanimous. No councilor even objects to the amount of funding, and though the expressions of too many of her colleagues are smug with self-satisfaction at this deed, Sevika swallows her irritation and thanks the chamber for its favor.
The glow of relief at her success is dimmed somewhat when Shoola approaches her to shake her hand. The other woman’s handshake is firm enough that the intricately designed metal claws she wears leave indents in the flesh of Sevika’s palm, but her eyes stay on her fingers. Even now, she won’t look Sevika in the face as she murmurs her congratulations.
Sevika lays this offense aside along with the smug faces of the rest of the councilors as she gathers up her papers. She’s suffered worse than a handful of passive insults, so she refuses to let it overshadow the fact that she’s notched her first success as a councilor before a month has passed. It’s more than she expected to get done this soon Topside, and she won’t deny herself the joy of having some measure of success to bring back to her people.
When she returns to her office later that day, she finds a bottle of wine sitting on her desk along with a note written on heavy card stock. ‘Congratulations on your success today,’ it reads. The note is unsigned, but the wine looks stupidly expensive, so Sevika imagines (hopes) it wasn’t meant as some patronizing throwaway present from her colleagues. She hates wine, but she figures she’ll hold onto this gift as a keepsake of her hard-earned first win. After casting about the bare walls and shelves of her office, she opts to set the bottle on the shelf opposite her desk. She might not have the ancient tomes, expensive knick-knacks, or family heirlooms that the other Councilors fill their offices with, but she has proof that she can do some good for the Undercity, and that’s enough for now.
~~*~~
Sevika is damn glad she celebrated her win on the education proposal because her next proposal doesn’t go half as well. She feels good about it when she first puts it together. Piltover no longer enjoys the benefit of Hextech, and without it, the city has been scrambling to cover what its advancements have left behind. There’s nothing to be done for the loss of the Hexgates, but where other shortcomings lie — city transportation, machinery, even some forms of medicine — Chemtech could bridge the gap. It’s existed in Zaun for long enough that she thinks it could scale with some funding and official input from Piltover’s Academy. The elimination of most of the Chembarons also means that most of Chemtech’s production is also above board. With a little extra development, it could not only offer a much needed source of technological advancement but also much needed jobs in Zaun.
If only it were so simple.
Where the interrogation Sevika faced during the education proposal was nitpicking but ultimately relevant, the questioning she faces over her Chemtech proposal is demeaning and paternalistic. For hours, she’s forced to answer questions and listen to the Council voice doubts about her people’s competence, their civility — their humanity.
“What is the chance that the workers simply steal the supply to convert into Shimmer?” a leathery bag of a woman asks as she adjusts an earring.
Sevika clenches her jaw as she tries to spin an answer that doesn’t involve cursing this woman out. It’s clear that this councilor hasn’t read much of Sevika’s proposal packet. It’s doubtful she’s touched the charts and reports Sevika worked for weeks to put together, if she’s read anything at all. If she had, she would know that the supply chain and materials profile for Shimmer and the Chemtech in question are completely different. For weeks, Sevika read reports and wrote summaries until her eyeballs burned, sorted through notes left by dead chem-barons, and traipsed the Undercity to speak to refinery workers and underground scientists so she could get ahead of these kind of questions. Yet here she is, answering them anyway.
“Shimmer can’t be made from the same materials as the Chemtech we’re talking about,” Sevika says at last through gritted teeth. “Besides, without the benefit of a refinery, they wouldn’t be able to make much of anything they managed to ferret off.”
“Yes, but,” another councilor interjects in an arrogant, droning voice, “do we really want to encourage the production of this… concoction?” He looks around the room as if he’s made a salient point. “We know that the Undercity is capable of weaponizing its chemical production. Need I remind you of the events of the memorial for our late councilors Kiramman, Hoskel, and Bolbok?” He frowns in such a way that Sevika thinks he’s trying to hide a sneer. Across the arched table from him, the leathery councilor nods and doesn’t bother to hide her disdain.
Sevika can’t suppress the sigh that rises in her chest, though she does bite down on it so it’s not so obvious. “Much like Hextech, which was also weaponized, yes, Chemtech has been used to make weapons,” Sevika admits. “However, unlike Hextech, there haven’t been nearly as many resources spent on developing it for good at scale. The continued lack of official funding and interest in its innovation has left it to bad actors… like those involved the memorial attack.
“But with enough financial investment, input from the Academy, and development of Zaun’s more scientifically-minded citizens, we could see the development of technology to match Hextech, at least domestically. Besides, since we’re discussing the memorial attack, those tanks were powered by Shimmer, which isn’t under discussion.”
“And what of the addictive properties of Chemtech? What if some miscreant chooses to take advantage of that? Have we not seen how quickly the Undercity turns to crime and addiction?” some blond, overly moist looking councilor to Sevika’s left asks.
Sevika swallows and forces herself to ignore the latter part of her colleague’s comment. “Only Shimmer is addictive, and we’re currently working to fix its hold on Zaun’s citizens,” she grinds out. No thanks to any help from the Council. She raises her own copy of the proposal packet she’s prepared. “This is mentioned several times throughout the packet I’ve prepared and distributed to you all.” She did, in fact, deliver each packet to each respective council member’s office herself. She supposes she could have had an intern do it, but she’s scared off three already in the short months she’s been a councilor.
“Besides,” a smooth, sharp voice cuts in, “if we invest aggressively and consistently in Chemtech innovation, that should remove the financial incentive for workers or scientists to turn to those with ulterior motives.” The sharp chime of Shoola’s claws on the marble table pierces Sevika’s ear, though when she turns, Shoola is pointedly looking at the moist, blond councilor. “Our previous lack of investment opened the door to malefactors and enemies of Piltover. The concerns about Shimmer are perhaps founded, but we cannot permit them to sway us to pass up this economic opportunity.”
The concerns about Shimmer are not founded, Sevika thinks bitterly. Between her dedication, that of the Firelights, and the private efforts of Violet and Caitlyn Kiramman as newly appointed mediators, the propagation of Shimmer in Zaun has been all but crushed. The remaining Chem-barons of the old guard, Chross and Margot, have little interest in its continuation, especially since it makes it safer for them to push out their own black market enterprises. At some point, Sevika will have to figure out how to rein them in or bring them above board, but for now, their opposition to Shimmer’s survival is useful. Besides, she can’t offer them a more legitimate alternative to their business until the Council puts the funds on the table for her to do so.
It feels like encouraging circling vultures to take a bite of her beloved city — after all, Shoola referred to the Undercity as an economic opportunity — but Sevika doesn’t have any other options to keep her people afloat. Realistically, Zaun doesn’t have much hope past what Piltover is willing to offer it at this point. Even independence would leave it adrift until Piltover was willing to treat it as an equal, with little way of making the necessary connections abroad to bring trade, industry, and stability to its people.
When the questioning finally winds to a close, the leathery councilwoman says, “Shall we adjourn and call a vote for the end of the week?” She raps a rude knuckle against the carefully assembled proposal packet. Her ring leaves a nick in the paper. “I suppose we shall all… read this and arrive with our votes four days from now.”
“I recommend you read the extensively detailed section on the scientists prepared to collaborate with the Academy on pages ten through fifteen,” Shoola says. “It seems the pool of talent is ripe for this development.”
For a moment, Sevika can’t help but stare at the councilor. She hadn’t thought anyone had read what she’d so painstakingly researched and put together. Yet, clearly Shoola had read enough that she could direct others to the pages containing information of interest. A soft swell of self-pride rises at the center of Sevika’s chest.
It doesn’t last long, though, because Shoola offers little more than a nod, without even looking at her, as she passes Sevika to exit the council chamber. Some things will never change, it seems.
~~*~~
The vote does not go well. Aside from Sevika, only Shoola votes in favor of the Chemtech proposal. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, but Sevika can’t help but feel devastated when the vote concludes. To add insult to injury, one of the other councilors makes a point to stop her afterward and offer what he must believe are words of encouragement. “Perhaps, we might more seriously consider this proposal once the Undercity has been brought to heel by proper education and guidance,” he says, his voice syrupy sweet. He shakes her hand earnestly, but the look in his eyes is entirely patronizing.
Time was, Sevika would have decked someone for looking at her like that, and she still might if she were in the Undercity right now, but she accepts the handshake and keeps her prosthetic arm still at her side. The Piltie-made thing probably wouldn’t stand up under the force of a good punch anyway. Instead, her breath only stutters in her chest, and she schools her face into something blank-eyed and expressionless. She’ll scream about this later and throw back one shot too many, but for now, she plays the role of upstanding councilor and accepts the offense.
The other councilors nod to her as they file out of the chamber, leaving Sevika to gather the proposal packets they’ve left behind. For a while she stands and stares at the great stained-glass window that looks out upon Piltover’s main square. She’s felt like this before, exhausted and embarrassed as she looked out upon the Lanes from the penthouse greenhouse where the Chem-barons met. The last time she felt so useless, she’d been humiliated by that rancid cybernetics mogul Smeech. The desolate feeling had been rare then; now she feels some variation of it most days. She doesn’t know exactly where the Chem-barons meet anymore, despite the fact that she used to sit in the big chair and used to serve the man who all but owned the big chair’s power.
At one point, she was aware that Chross and Margot had gone to ground to avoid the fate of their fellow barons. Now that they’re active once more, her former subordinate Ran and Vi meet with them as surprisingly effective intermediaries. And Sevika — well, she sits in a chair more luxurious than the big chair but only a fraction as effective.
When evening falls, and Sevika has returned to her still bare office, she finds another wildly priced bottle sitting on her desk. It’s brandy this time, which is another liquor she doesn’t drink. There’s a note again, too, written on the same heavy card stock in angled cursive. ‘We all have bad days,’ it reads. ‘All you can do is your best.’
Sevika sighs and places it next to the wine bottle. If she’s going to commemorate her win, she might as well commemorate her failure. This is likely to be just the first of many, after all.
~~*~~
“It’s not too fucking surprising, right?” Vi says as she leans up against Sevika’s desk. Down in the Lanes, the well-mannered vestiges of ‘Violet Kiramman’ that she arms herself with in Piltover are gone. “Of course they let the education proposal through. They can say they helped a bunch of pathetic Trenchers and put their names on a couple schools. But Chemtech development? Helping Zaun gain actual fucking power?” She scoffs and rolls her eyes.
The middle of the week is for meeting with constituents, so Sevika shakes off the disappointment of the previous week’s vote and receives residents of the Undercity in the office space of the restored Last Drop. She’s tried to make the place look as close to Vander’s version of it as possible, which has helped make inroads in her relationship with Vi, and it seems to set the residents at ease as well. Gone are the garish neon lights and blaring music. Returned are the dark wood and warm glow of modest light bulbs. The jukebox still remains after hefty repairs, and Vi and Ekko were able to salvage or scrounge up most of the old records. It looks like the place Vander built and nurtured as his pride and joy, though the people who made it one of Sevika’s favorite places in the Lanes are mostly dead. The best Sevika can do to honor them is try to make up for past mistakes and bring their dreams for a brighter future to bear.
“Light?” Ran asks. Their prosthetic hand holds a lighter to Sevika’s cigarillo.
“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Sevika grouses. “I’m not some Chem-baron.”
“No, but you’re still technically the boss down here, and it’s funny to see you get bent out of shape over it,” Vi retorts.
“Remind me why I accepted your appointment as a mediator?” Sevika snaps.
“Because I know the Fissures like the back of my hand, and I have experience with Topside most people down here don’t,” Vi drawls. She smirks and adds, “And you know it’ll keep you young if I keep you on your toes, old lady.”
Sevika doesn’t dignify this with a response and instead shifts her cigarillo over so she can accept Ran’s light. The action gets a soft smile from her former gangster before Ran steps aside and fetches a shot glass and a bottle of whiskey. It’s the delightfully shitty stuff Sevika prefers, in contrast to the high-end stuff her colleagues up top have been gifting her. Ran sets the glass down in front of her and starts to pour.
“Ran…” Sevika mutters. She doesn’t remember Ran treating her with this level of deference when Silco was alive, so she’s not sure why it cropped up once she took the council seat.
“You’ll need it,” Ran replies. “Now that news is out of the schools coming, a lot of people are wondering what that means for their kids.” They pause and push the shot toward Sevika. “And at the end of that, Margot’s asked for an audience.”
Ah, shit. Sevika has never been one for speeches and conferences. After all, she only rallied her people because Jinx wouldn’t. Even so, her constituents are generally understanding, and it sets her at relative ease. Meeting with Chross and Margot, though, makes her want to put her fist through a wall. She takes the shot and fully expects to take another before her meetings are done.
After that, Vi retreats to the edge of the room and Ran ushers up the first of the residents. They weren’t exaggerating; there are a lot of people today. Parents come to her in droves asking about the admissions process for the coming schools. Rumors have begun to spread and people are scared they will have to pay their children’s way with money they don’t have. Others have heard that Topside’s brutal acceptance standards will be applied to Zaun’s schools, and while they assure her their kids are plenty smart, they don’t know that they’ll pass an admissions test. Others beg her to put a good word in for their children’s entry, and others even offer to pay her whatever they can scrounge together. It’s heartbreaking to see the desperation and anxiety that even brief news of opportunity has created, but Sevika does her best to allay her constituents’ fears. The schools will be completely free and open to all. No, no child will be expected to sit for tests to enter. She absolutely will not accept any bribes to allow children an education.
After that come residents curious (hungry) to know if the new schools will mean construction jobs for the Undercity’s residents. These Sevika assures that she will fight tooth and nail to see the construction done by her people under fair conditions and wages. Then, she mediates neighborly disputes and disagreements between business owners. Jericho arrives with a generous gift of some grilled salamander or another, which Sevika gratefully accepts, and then it’s time to receive Margot.
~~*~~
Two shots was definitely not enough, it turns out, to temper Sevika’s irritation at the simpering Chem-baroness. By the time Margot slithers out of the office, Sevika is ready to throw a chair or overturn the massive desk. Even Ran, as calm as they normally are, seems on the verge of unleashing an acidic torrent of insults after the woman. Vi is uncharacteristically silent, but the scowl she aims at the door as it shuts behind Margot says enough. How the scheming madame is able to get under everyone’s skin so consistently, Sevika doesn’t know. What she does know, though, is that it’s getting late, so she pushes herself back and rises from the desk with a frustrated grunt.
“I’m heading out,” she announces. “Ran, send a message if anything comes up. Vi, I’ll see you around Topside.”
Vi juts her chin, gives a salute and makes her exit. She and Sevika are still not friendly, per se, but there exists a respect between them that comes easily these days. Ran rises soon after, and also exits after giving Sevika a nod good night.
Despite being the first rise, Sevika is left alone in the office. For a moment, she steps forward to leave as well, but she stops and strides back to the window behind the desk. The view isn’t quite so expansive as the view the greenhouse or Piltover’s council room offers, but it’s comfortingly familiar, and she can recognize the passersby as she looks down from this more modest height. It’s a grounding moment, and she’s grateful for it as she lets the irritation from Margot’s visit slip away. No matter how many greedy Chembarons or arrogant councilors she deals with, it won’t change the fact that she’s doing all this work for the passersby beneath her window, the people of the Undercity. When she turns to leave and descends the stairs to the rest of the Last Drop, she feels much calmer. Thieram nods to her as she steps down onto the landing, and she even smiles a bit as she orders dinner to go from him. He won’t let her pay, of course, so Sevika counters by slipping more cogs than normal into the tip jar.
The walk from the Last Drop to her apartment isn’t long, so Sevika tarries a while to greet the shopkeepers in the evening market and ask after their sales. Things have picked up marginally for some of them thanks to the optimism at the coming schools and the work they’ll bring. A few shopkeepers push small gifts of food or trinkets onto her. One gifts her a vial of oil for her arm.
“Councilor!” a voice calls out just as Sevika is turning to leave. When she turns her head, she finds a Chirean woman and small child sitting on a blanket by the curb. Glass jewelry and vials of what might be perfume lay arrayed in front of her. A wooden box held shut by a hefty lock sits next to the woman. Her hand rests on it protectively; it must be the lockbox, Sevika imagines.
“Hello,” Sevika says in the steady, measured voice she’s been perfecting over the months. “How are things today?”
“We’re well today, Councilor,” the woman says. Though she holds herself in the taut stance most Zaunite shopkeepers do, ever alert for thieves, she seems excited to see Sevika. “I think your efforts Topside are starting to pay off for us salespeople down here!” Her eyes light up as she says this.
Sevika crouches down to the woman’s level. “Well, that’s a relief. Good to know the council seat’s good for something.”
“Of course!” the Chirean woman replies. “My daughter’ll be going to school soon, thanks to you, and I think we’ve had our first ever buyer from Piltover!”
“She bought one of my mama’s perfumes!” the little girl chirps. “She was really pretty.”
Sevika manages to hide her surprise, barely. She wasn’t aware anyone from Piltover had gotten up the courage to visit the Undercity at all, let alone venture this far into the Lanes. She covers her shock with a chuckle and asks, “Did she haggle?”
The woman laughs at this and pats the lockbox. “No, Councilor,” she says. “She didn’t even try.”
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Chapter Text
Sevika doesn’t have much time to ponder or seek out who the bold visitor from Piltover might be. The following day is her touring day, where she walks around as much of the Fissures as possible, inventorying concerns in her head and speaking to residents who approach her. Then the next is for Council meetings. There’s nothing to vote on, so the day is a monotony of rubber stamping routine items for Piltover before most of the councilors retreat to the opera house or exclusive restaurants to discuss private business.
Sevika can’t afford these entertainments and generally returns home early on days where there are no votes. While her Council salary has made her a highly-paid Zaunite, it was always meant to be a mere stipend for Piltover’s elite. Her colleagues use it to pad their already gilded pockets; Sevika uses it to pay for for rent, groceries, and other necessities. What’s leftover is certainly not enough for entry to one of Piltover’s glitzy social spaces, and Sevika wouldn’t want to go anyway, so she donates what she can and saves some for a rainy day. She’s not used to making so much money. The job she had while allied with Vander paid poorly, and Silco paid her well but nowhere near as well as the Council stipend does. At the end of every week, it feels wrong each time she opens the bill of payment for her work. There are too many zeroes at the end of the each bill, which promise more washers and cogs than she ever could have imagined as a child. Only, in Piltover, councilors deal in gold hexes. It’s absurd.
One of the main recipients of Sevika’s donations is the community-run rehab home where the mad Herald’s commune once sat. Despite the disaster and the battle that took place there, most of the odd buildings have remained structurally sound, so those Zaunites who are able have stepped up to house and care for patients wracked with Shimmer addiction. There are some healers, nurses, and doctors — all stretched too thin but endlessly giving — who dedicate most waking hours of their day to helping patients get clean. There are also some cybernetics scientists and prosthetic engineers who have joined to help out. Without the mad Herald’s magic, it’s impossible to heal people fully, but the engineers supply new limbs and other attachments where needed and possible.
It’s one of these engineers that Sevika goes to meet after she leaves Piltover for the afternoon. The sun is shining today on the rehab’s pocket of the Fissures, and though Sevika comes bearing bad news, the day is pleasant enough that her mood isn’t completely sour. People wave to her as she walks the dirt paths past squat, rounded buildings toward the central bubble that houses the engineers’ workshop. A few approach her to offer handshakes and thank yous. One nurse hurries up to her to thank her for her generous donations, which Sevika awkwardly accepts. She’s tried to be discreet about her donations, but it seems she’s not been discreet enough.
It’s been months, but the awkward feeling hasn’t subsided. She used to collect protection money for Silco, for Janna’s sake! Now, with the exception of Ekko and some of the Firelights, people treat her the same as they did Vander. She thinks she weathers it well, but she doubts she’ll ever get used to the way people welcome her and accept her leadership.
It’s why she still winces whenever she enters the engineers’ workshop and hears a bright, “Councilor! It’s good to see you!”
Sevika turns to see Bex, a bright-eyed engineer with long, dark braids she wraps around her head to keep them out of the way. Her goggles sit on her forehead, pressing indents into the skin there and pushing her brow down in a goofy grimace that reminds Sevika of some of Jinx’s more plotting looks.
Jinx would have loved it here. She would have loved the open workspace, and maybe — as stable as she had seemed when Sevika last saw her — she would have liked working in a place that helped so many people. The last thing Sevika remembers her making was the slot-machine arm, after all. Maybe it’s for this reason that Sevika donates to the rehab home so frequently and seeks out Bex so often.
There’s no way for Bex to figure this, though. She swipes her notebook from her workbench and approaches with a smile on her face. “Back for more Chem-talk?” she asks.
“Not today, sorry,” Sevika says. She unhooks a pouch of washers from her belt and holds it out to Bex. “The Council didn’t like the proposal, so we’re back to the drawing board. I wanted to pay you for your time, though.”
Bex’s face falls some as she regards the pouch, and her brows knit together in apparent confusion as much as her goggles will allow. “But I…” she begins, but she trails off and replaces her words with a limp shrug. She lays the notebook down on a nearby workbench and sinks onto the adjacent stool. “That’s the way of things, I guess.”
Sevika lays the pouch down at Bex’s elbow. “I’m going to rework it, and try again once the schools have gotten underway,” Sevika assures her. “I’d like to keep working with you to make sure the proposal’s ready to go when the time comes.”
Bex perks up a bit at this. “Yes, we’ve just got to hang in there.” She fixes Sevika with a determined smile and pushes the pouch of washers back to her. “Didn’t we agree I’d get my payment when the Council accepted the proposal?”
Sevika pushes the pouch back with a frown. “I don’t know when that will be, Bex. Take the money.”
For a moment, Bex tries to glare up at Sevika, but Sevika wins the battle of wills. She might be a Councilor now, but she can still stare a person down like Silco’s second. Bex slides the pouch off of the bench top.
“I’m going to put this right in the rehab home’s fund,” she mutters as she gets up. She turns back toward her own workbench and motions for Sevika to follow.
“You do what you want with it, but people get paid for their work when I’m around,” Sevika insists.
“Yes, yes, we already agreed on that,” Bex retorts, but she slides the washers into a drawer of her bench all the same. “Would you like to see my latest successful project?”
Sevika nods and leans against the workbench to more closely regard Bex’s work as the engineer removes dust cloths from from an array of small cybernetics connected to tangles of wires. When she’s arranged them as she sees fit, she plops down on her stool and starts flipping back in her notebook to older notes.
“You planning to study art in Piltover or something?” Sevika asks. The margins of Bex’s notebook are filled with sketches resembling what Sevika has come to recognize as the geometric figures of Piltover’s architecture.
Bex’s hand falters before she lets out an amused chuckle. “Am I planning to study art? Councilor, I’m not a young kid anymore. Things are pretty settled for me, I think. Nothing new coming for this Trencher.”
“I’m in my forties, and I started up as a Councilor this year. We get whatever new comes our way, if we’re willing to try it,” Sevika says. “I was a drug runner, and look at me now.”
Bex shrugs and passes her notebook to Sevika. “What do you think of this?”
Sevika pores over the page, but she can’t parse what makes it much different from the sketches and diagrams Bex has shown her during previous visit. It looks like every other cybernetics diagram Bex presented while Sevika was building her proposal.
“What am I looking at?” Sevika mutters at last.
“Phalange prosthetics!” Bex exclaims. She takes the notebook back from Sevika and snatches up a pencil an scribbles a few notes as she speaks. “I think I’ve figured out a way to make functional prosthetics for partial phalanges.” When Sevika only gives her a blank look, she continues, “It means we might be able to make prosthetics for people who have only lost part of their fingers!”
Sevika frowns as she looks at Bex’s sketches and notes. “You weren’t doing that already?”
“For limbs — for full fingers — yes,” Bex says. “Even Piltover can do a decent limb prosthetic.” She waves her pencil in the direction of Sevika’s left shoulder, where, fortunately, her sturdier Zaunite-arm is anchored today. “But even down in the Fissures, we haven’t tried too hard on replacing parts of fingers and toes. Full hands, full fingers… anyone with a strong grasp of cybernetics can do that. But that doesn’t help my patients with Shimmer pipe injuries or necrosis on the tips of their fingers.”
Bex swivels on her stool, snatches up one of the prosthetics, and holds it out to Sevika. “With this, we might be able to help without taking away a functional part of a finger. Phalange prosthetics!” When Sevika takes the prosthetic from her, she adds, “With these, we could attach the prosthetic at the top of the closest phalange — that’s the bones of the fingers and toes — and then they could regain some functionality without losing healthy body parts. I think we could really help a lot of people at the rehab home with this!” She pulls more prosthetics toward Sevika for her inspection. “Plus, with all the faults sorted out, that’s the majority of the issues gone, and because everything is so small, that’s less money we have to spend on materials per patient, so raising the money to outfit as many people as possible would be easier. Servicing something this small might be difficult, but I think I could train some people to work on maintenance for patients. Might even be able to convince some of Smeech’s old employees for the right incentive, but we can cross that bridge when we get to it.”
Bex’s words take on an urgent, breathy tone as she gets more excited. “Besides, if we can figure this out at scale, then we have something we can offer Piltover” — she turns to Sevika with eyes shining with excitement — “and then perhaps the Council will accept the Chemtech proposal. Maybe if we’ve got something to offer them that wasn’t around when Shimmer was a big problem, you’ll convince them!”
This is why Sevika likes coming to the engineers’ workshop. The people here are deeply interested in innovation for the sake of helping the Undercity. They don’t have the all-consuming greed that has always eaten the chem-barons, but they’re full of the same genius. Their minds are always turning over new ideas for assisting people and improving life’s misfortunes, and they’re determined to push science to its limits in that pursuit.
It really is a loss that Jinx isn’t here to join them.
Instead of dwelling on that, Sevika asks, “Have you been able to test these out of the workshop?”
Bex taps the pencil against her workbench and fiddles with one of the braids wrapped around her head as she thinks. “I haven’t gotten that far yet,” she says slowly. “I’m confident in my work, but there’s always a chance it could go wrong…”
“You’ve tested other prosthetics out before, right?” Sevika asks.
“Yes, but my work on other prosthetics has just been improving established work. Improving mechanical prosthetics like your arm, making adjustments to things the chem-barons made, adjusting blueprints… things like that.” Bex pulls out a well worn notebook from a stack at the back of her workbench and tosses it to Sevika. “If you flip through that, you’ll see. It’s all building on old work; it’s stuff we all know works already. For phalange prosthetics, though, I’ve only just worked out all the ins-and-outs — how much chem to cycle through the prosthetic, the size of the filaments, anchor points, ideal materials…” She trails off as she gets lost in the list of pieces to consider.
“And there’s no one willing to give it a try, even with as many Shimmer injuries cropped up after the Noxians left?” Sevika presses. Perhaps because of the loss of hope after the death of the mad Herald and the trauma of the Herald’s betrayal and the Noxians’ brutality, Shimmer usage had skyrocketed. The crisis cleared up a lot of leftover Shimmer after Topside’s destruction of the chem-baroness Renni’s refineries, but it also resulted in a wave of new addictions and physical injuries. People grabbed what they could of the remaining drug with nothing to replenish it and then turned to other vices as Shimmer began to run out.
There are enough people with addiction-related injuries that could benefit from Bex’s work that Sevika can hardly figure there’s no one willing to test a prosthetic out. Hell, after she lost her arm at the canning factory, she would have been willing to try any experimental thing to get her functionality back. It hadn’t come to that, but still…
“There’s got to be someone,” Sevika huffs.
“I’m sure there is,” Bex says, jutting her chin defiantly at Sevika, “but I’m not interested in using them as a test subject.”
“But for the benefits —”
“Which aren’t certain,” Bex interrupts, “it’s too big of a risk.”
“Bex…”
“Absolutely not, Councilor!” Bex snaps, her voice sharper than Sevika has ever heard it. She doesn’t rise off of her stool, but Sevika gets the impression that it’s incredible restraint that’s keeping her there. “I think you and I can both agree that Trenchers have lost just about enough in the past several months. We thought we had the Herald to stand up for us, and then he fucking…” She waves her hand in a harsh motion.
It’s not often that Bex curses. The lines in her face give her a weathered but dignified look, and she chooses her language to match. If she’s resorted to cursing, then she’s upset. Sevika opts to back off.
“Look, I shouldn’t have pushed the issue. You know about this stuff better than me.” Sevika holds her hands up in apology.
Bex’s face softens, a bit. “I get you want to help all us Trenchers, Councilor, I do,” Bex sighs, “but I won’t chance taking something from anyone when I can’t promise it won’t make them worse.” She waves to the array of cybernetics on the work bench. “If this doesn’t go the way I want it to, then someone loses what’s left of their finger, or even their hand. I’m good at cybernetics, but no one’s good enough to replace a working body part. Don’t you wish you’d never lost your arm, even with the prosthetics you have to replace it?”
Sevika winces, but Bex has her there. She flexes the bronzed claws of her hand, and it’s like working a machine. There’s no sensation there. It’s hard to judge force or pressure, which is rotten stuff for anything but fighting, and it’s too easy for the arm to get damaged, which she knows too well, sturdy though it is. Caitlyn Kiramman made it completely useless with just a couple of bullets. And sometimes her shoulder aches where the connection mechanism wrenched her bone after Vi ripped the arm off in their last fight. She gives Bex a helpless sigh.
Bex shrugs and slides off her stool. She starts arranging the cybernetic pieces back under their dust cloths. “We’ll figure something out, Councilor,” she says. Sevika detects a forced bit of brightness in her voice as she speaks. “We always find a way in the Fissures, whether it falls over the edge on us from Topside or we dig it up out of the dirt with our bare hands.”
“Heh, yeah,” Sevika snorts. “Mostly digging in the damn dirt, but we do.”
~~*~~
Sevika doesn’t return home until late. After the rehab home, she heads to the Last Drop. She’s swarmed by patrons hoping to chance their luck against her in cards like they used to months ago, and it’s late at night by the time she can sneak out. She takes the long way home to give herself some time to sober up before bed. Now that she makes a councilor’s salary, she doesn’t feel right taking money from fellow Zaunites, so she accepts drinks from the losers instead. Though she only sips from most of what she receives, she’s definitely drunk by the time she leaves the bar.
Sevika’s head is a bit clearer by the time she reaches the door to her apartment, but she’s still buzzed enough that her mind is more focused on fitting her key into the lock than on noticing her neighbor step out of his apartment.
“You gettin’ back into the saddle at the Gardens, eh?” a gravelly voice calls from Sevika’s right.
Though she hasn’t had to fear someone stupid enough to sneak up on her in years, Sevika startles badly enough that she drops her key. “What the fuck, Sim?” she grumbles as she bends to pick it up.
“Hah! Didn’t mean to startle ya,” the man replies as he leans against his doorpost. “Smoke?” he says as he fishes in his pocket.
When Sevika stands, she’s met with the sight of a balding man sporting a grizzled goatee. Sim never misses a chance to tell people he’s a quarter Chirean, a fact that manifests mostly in a rather hairy body and large ears, from behind one of which he pulls a cigarette.
“You know I’m trying to quit,” Sevika retorts. “And what’s this rumor you’re trying to start about me and the Gardens?”
“Not trying to quit very hard, I bet,” Sim chuckles, “And I’m not starting anything.”
Sevika goes back to fitting her key into the lock. “Did you come out here to bother me, or did you just need some peace from all the grandkids?”
“Eh, the grandkids are in bed, so I guess I’m just here to bother you, Councilor,” Sim says as he lights up his cigarette.
“Don’t start with that,” Sevika grumbles as the lock clicks at last. “I’ve been living here longer than I’ve been working with the Pilties.
“And going to the Gardens the whole time until you started working with the Pilties,” Sim adds. He pauses to take a drag and exhale. “So I was wondering what’s got you making Babette’s ladies do house calls now? Not to be in your business or nothing…”
Sevika hand pauses midway through opening her front door. “What’s got me making what?” she snarls as she whips around to glower at Sim.
Sim remains unfazed by her outburst and shrugs as he ashes his cigarette. “There was some lady here earlier I ain’t ever seen before. She was asking after you, wondering if you’d be home. I asked if she was from the Gardens, and she tried to play it coy, asking where that was. Which, you know, sounds like something someone who was tangling with a councilor would say.”
“Maybe you should quit smoking, Sim,” Sevika says, looking Sim dead in his face. Her buzz is fast turning into a headache.
“She seemed like one of those high end types, too,” Sim continues, as though Sevika hasn’t said anything. “I hope you’re treating her right. I’m sure life’s busy enough without having to make house —”
“Good night, Sim,” Sevika deadpans and steps into her apartment. She’ll have to figure out what her old neighbor is going on about later. Right now she needs a glass of water and her head on a pillow.
Notes:
Not much action from Shoola this chapter, but I promise she'll be around more next chapter as things start to take off.
Chapter 3: I Really Appreciated Your Support
Notes:
*CW: This chapter contains discussion of sex work as necessity. While sex work is valid work, and sex workers deserve protection and may pursue it out of genuine interest, this topic may distress some readers due to the nature of the work in this chapter being referenced as a means of financial necessity rather than a wanted outlet.
If this is the case for you, please stop reading starting at, "I’ve got a girl at the Gardens in need of a different job..." and pick back up again at "Hardly any other constituents arrive after Babette’s departure..." Then skip again, starting at, "Babette’s girl Minat is waiting outside the Last Drop..." and pick back up again at, "The thought of having an intern..."
For those who found it necessary to skip, I'll include a quick recap of the skipped parts in the end notes.
ALSO, please see the end notes for a recommendation for a fic I love.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When the following week starts, something is off about Shoola that Sevika can’t quite put her finger on. The normally sharp councilor seems distracted. More than once, another councilor has to call her away from her thoughts to the topic at hand. What’s more, Sevika catches her staring at her prosthetic arm more than once in the middle of meetings. Shoola hardly looks at her more than she has to any other day, but today Sevika has caught the other counsilor’s eyes on her five times in less than twenty minutes. Twice, she manages to catch Shoola’s eyes, but the other councilor immediately drops her gaze to her notes.
It’s a lucky thing Shoola can’t blush visibly, Sevika thinks, otherwise the entire Council would know just how distracted she is.
It’s not an uncommon scenario for Sevika to find someone trying to avoid her gaze while sneaking as much of an appreciative look as possible. The girls down at the Gardens tended to do it a lot, whether from genuine interest or because they knew Sevika tipped well. Some of Silco’s new recruits — the ones who hadn’t yet figured out that Sevika didn’t mix business and pleasure — would try it. Margot did it shamelessly before Silco died and she considered Sevika a threat to her chance at the big chair. Margot does it shamelessly now when Sevika is stuck negotiating agreements between her and Chross. It seems Sevika can’t avoid a hopeful woman trying to eye her up.
She wonders if that’s what this is or if something else is going on and hopes it’s something else. She’s not interested in letting down some Piltie who’s just looking for an exotic ride, even if that Piltie is the closest poor excuse she has to an ally on the Council. During lunch recess, she could corner Shoola and ask if she has a crush, but that would probably be a bad idea, she tells herself. She shouldn’t antagonize the only person willing to back her up, so she’ll have to think of something else.
Lunch recess passes uneventfully, and by the time the afternoon session begins, Shoola has tightened up considerably. Her focus, which wandered so much during the morning session, is unshakable; she doesn’t look at Sevika once as she launches into her proposal. Her gaze is sharp and her motions are precise as she presents her argument. Any indication that Sevika had her flustered earlier is completely gone.
Shoola is presenting a proposal for a vote, it seems. Just before the end of recess, her intern drops off an armful of proposal briefs, which the councilor distributes as everyone is returning to their seats. Sevika gives the brief a quick flip-through, and Shoola’s aim seems apparent enough. She wants councilors to have the ability to sponsor students at Piltover’s Academy.
“That is my proposal, councilors. I hope you’ll consider it and review the brief I have provided ahead of a vote on Friday,” Shoola says. Then she takes a seat and casts an appraising look around the arc of the table.
A few of the other councilors expressions are outright hostile, the faces of the leathery councilor and the pallid blond among them. The remaining councilors look pensive, though. One, a gray-haired man with a close-clipped goatee, raises his hand. “Forgive me if I am wrong, Councilor,” he says when Shoola gestures her acknowledgement, “but is it not already at the discretion of anyone in Piltover to fund the studies of whichever scholar they please? We are no strangers to patronage in this city.”
A hum passes around the table as Shoola nods her agreement with this statement. “This is true, but I must remind this Council that patronage distinctly does not apply to the foundational years the Academy provides. The first two years of Academy training are expressly assigned as the responsibility of the family of the student. Subsequent self-directed study under the supervision of the Academy may be paid for by anyone who possesses the funds. As it stands now, though, I could not pay for the first two years of higher education for a member of your family, nor could you for a member of mine. The by-laws are clear: All compensation to the Academy, inclusive of the nourishment, maintenance, and academic tutelage of the student must be furnished by their natural House. ”
“I see,” the gray-haired councilor says. His eyebrows knit together as he settles back in his seat.
“It has been some time this Council thought to assess the rules by which our Academy is bound,” Shoola continues. “We haven’t done it since I joined this Council, certainly, and while we have easily included adopted and stewarded persons under all meanings of ‘natural House’, I would like to make clearer allowances for generous members of Piltover and this Council to sponsor whomever they would like.”
“I have always been under the impression that that stipulation was placed with great intention.” The pale, blond councilor speaks up, his cadence placing weird inflection on the word ‘intention’. It’s enough that Sevika knows she’s going to hate what he says next. “I would urge the Council to consider that the Academy’s current limits ensure that only those students who will be a credit to it enter. House Ferros has certainly always appreciated this dedication to… quality.”
From her spot to Shoola’s right, Sevika can only see the woman’s profile, but she sees enough to notice her nostril flare. It’s the most outright emotion Sevika has ever seen her show. Even on the bridge, after the Noxians’ attack, she was damn near expressionless. Now, her right eye tightens, and her lips angle downward in a frown at the other councilor’s callous words.
“ I would urge this Council to remember that sponsorship gave this city one of its greatest minds,” Shoola answers, her voice deadly calm. “And though House Talis gathered the funds for their son’s fees, it was House Kiramman that provided the gold that allowed Jayce Talis to conceive of Hextech, gold that House Talis would have struggled to provide.”
“I would urge you to remember what Jayce Talis and his contemptible assistant nearly did to this city,” the leathery councilwoman spits from Shoola’s left. “His precious Hextech killed my husband, as well as the leader of House Kiramman and Councilor Bolbok!”
Shoola deliberately turns to face the older woman, leaving Sevika with only a view of the back of her head. “And has House Hoskel relinquished the gold that Hextech brought you from the wine trade with the Noxians?” Shoola’s voice is as sharp as her claws. “We mourn the loss of our fellow councilors, and we resent the…” — here she turns toward Sevika fractionally before aborting the motion — “the misapplication of Hextech which took their lives, but that was not due to House Talis’s quality or lack of wealth.”
Further along the arch of the table, the blond councilor’s lips tense and stretch to speak. His cheeks hollow in preparation for whatever venom he must intend to release, and he looks so arrogant that Sevika itches to punch him.
Shoola beats him to whatever he wants to say, though, as she lifts a golden finger. “I am the most senior member of this Council,” she says, her voice suddenly much more gentle. “Express what grief or disdain you want for Jayce Talis — he isn’t alive to witness it — but it is worth saying that if I and your predecessors had been more responsible in governing Hextech’s creation and proliferation, perhaps none of our recent sorrows would have happened. Perhaps your husband would still be alive, Councilor Hoskel.” She interlaces her fingers on top of the marble, stark gold and deep brown against stark white. “That was not a function of lack of wealth; it was a function of our negligence. This is the plain truth.” She sits back into her seat heavily.
“Odd that you would take issue with the wording of the by-laws now, though, Councilor,” another councilwoman says, “especially when this is probably best considered by those who can sponsor.” Her eyes shift to Sevika to brush her with a passing, embarrassed grimace.
Sevika glares down her nose at the white marble table so hard that colors start to burst before her eyes. She’s caught the other councilors’ eyes on her a few times during Shoola’s presentation. For the most part she’s done her best to let it go, but she’s seen a couple of the councilors glance at her with pity in their eyes, as though she’s too Piltover-poor to be a part of this conversation. As if she won’t bother herself to do her job just because she’s not in the same class of money as they are. The councilor who’s just spoken up looks as though she’s seconds away from doing Sevika the ‘favor’ of asking if she wants to be excused while the rich people talk. She’s sure this woman thinks she’s a better person than their blond colleague, too. Well, Sevika would like to trample them both.
“Regardless of how anyone may remember Jayce Talis, we cannot deny Piltover’s previous reliance on Hextech,” Shoola sighs. “We need all hands on deck to shift to a new trade advantage as quickly as possible. Ambessa Medarda’s death and Mel Medarda’s influence will hopefully keep the Noxians from taking advantage of our vulnerability again for some time, but we have nothing to offer Ionia, Demacia — nothing even to offer the traders of Bilgewater. Our trade relations could fail and fail soon.”
She taps a finger against the table to emphasize her words, the metal ringing through the council chamber. “The more well-trained minds we can set to the task of rebuilding, irrespective of wealth or House, the better chance we have of preserving Piltover’s standing.”
~~*~~
“…Not even listening again ! Oldie’s probably going senile. Do you think if we take her out back and put her out of her misery, I’ll get her Council seat?”
That gets Sevika’s attention and jolts her out of her reverie enough to turn and shoot a glare at Vi, who sits perched on the desk in the Last Drop’s office. “What is wrong with you?” she demands.
“You were off in la-la land again,” Vi says with a careless shrug. “Geez, if you’d been this out of it when I ran into you for the first time after Stillwater, maybe I would have won that fight.”
“You didn’t ‘run into me’,” Sevika snaps. “You interrupted a good game of cards and kneed me in my jaw.”
“And I threw them over a safety rail in a canning factory,” Vi retorts, jerking a finger at Ran. “You don’t see them complaining.”
“Falling broke my hand so badly it had to be removed,” Ran replies tonelessly.
“Everyone’s a critic,” Vi groans.
Pointedly shifting to face Ran, Sevika asks, “Since you’re the only competent one right now, what’s today’s load look like?”
“The only competent —” Vi exclaims.
“Pretty light. No complaints from Margot or Chross,” Ran says, ignoring her.
“Thank Janna,” Sevika groans. “Anything I should know about otherwise?”
“The Firelight leaders are looking into an issue down in the Sump. A chem-baron hopeful,” Ran says.
“You know, if you put a word in with Chross and Margot, I’m sure they’d take care of it,” Vi adds slyly. “I’m sure they don’t want more competition for the big chair.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be a mediator? I’m sure your princess at home wouldn’t want to hear that you’re trying to put hits out on people,” Sevika grumbles.
Vi shrugs. “I’m sure she’d be fine with it, besides, she’s busy enough cleaning up things with the Enforcers up top, so she doesn’t have to know. Right?”
The threatening grin Vi now wears would be more unnerving if Sevika couldn’t recall a ten-year-old Vi begging Sevika to teach her how to do a shot and then sulking when Sevika refused. As it stands, she can, so she smirks back and taunts, “What? You scared of her?”
At first Vi narrows her eyes and leans in as though she wants to make some retort, but she straightens and snorts, “Yeah. Find yourself a scary femme, and see how long you stay this obnoxious.”
“You’re still obnoxious, so I guess it didn’t help,” Sevika says.
Vi is about to react, but Ran interrupts the bickering with the offer of a lighter and cigarillo, which Sevika takes. She swears she’s trying to quit, but she already doesn’t smoke when she’s in Piltover, which seems like enough for now.
“I think I saw Babette downstairs earlier,” Ran says as they light the cigarillo. “I wonder what she wants.”
“Maybe she’s here to bribe you to come back to the Gardens,” Vi drawls. “You were her best customer after all.”
“Would you go stand in your corner or something?” Sevika growls around the cigarillo.
“Can you two pull it together?” Ran sighs. They pocket the lighter and turn toward the office door. “I’m sending up the first person.”
Vi retreats to the edge of the room, as she always does during constituent visits while Ran descends the stairs to bring up the first constituent visitor of the day. Silence rests over the room for just a few moments after Ran’s departure until Vi evidently can’t help herself and snickers, “Maybe Babette will give you a ‘Welcome Back’ discount, or something.”
Sevika would like to send a barb back for that jab, but in no time, Ran is opening the door so the first person can come in.
~~*~~
Sevika is surprised by how pleased she is when Babette enters the office after a few constituents have come and gone. Vi fetches a footstool so the elderly Yordle can comfortably climb into the chair opposite the desk, and Ran fetches her a drink from a beat-up bar cart in the corner of the office. It’s not a common thing for Sevika to share a drink with her constituents during office hours, but it’s been months since she last saw Babette, and she and the madame have a history.
“You look well, Councilor,” Babette greets Sevika in her usual warm, low tone.
“So do you, Babette,” Sevika replies. “Things are going well at the Gardens?”
“Things are going well at the Gardens, though I’ve lost my best customer.” Babette gestures with her cigarette holder and gives a Sevika a small smile. “Some of the girls have even asked if I’d offer you a discount to convince you to come back.”
From the side of the room, Vi fails to stop a mocking snort.
Sevika is about to shoot an insult Vi’s way, but before she can, Babette says, “It’s not her coin my girls say they miss, Violet.”
Vi’s snort turns into a barely suppressed retching noise. From the opposite corner of the room, Ran chuckles to themself. Sevika can’t help but roll her eyes at her assistants. She supposes that Babette did prompt this newest round of foolishness, but she’ll never disrespect the Gardens’ madame if she can avoid it. And no one told Vi to act like a kid on the job, anyway.
“Probably best that I don’t hang around now that I’m a councilor,” Sevika sighs. “Can’t look like I’m playing favorites.”
“And you expect me to believe that you’re worried about what Margot would think?” Babette retorts, not unkindly. “I have never known you to be one for jokes, Sevika.” She reaches her arm toward the desk, and Sevika pushes her ashtray forward so the Yordle can ash her cigarette. “My girls are the only game in town you care about, so why not pay them a visit?”
“Maybe someday,” Sevika replies, and she can’t help the way her mouth quirks up into a smirk as she does so. Vi looks positively green, and mutual respect or not, the cocky younger woman’s expression tickles her.
“Well, should you ever change your mind, you let me know. You’re forgiven enough for all the Silco business that I really might give you a discount just the once.”
The mention of Silco dampens Sevika’s smirk, but she pushes past it. “How can I help you, Babette?” she asks.
“Ah, yes. I’ve come to ask a favor, if you’re able to help.” Babette settles back in her chair, and her smile slips from her face. Whatever it is must be serious.
“I can try,” Sevika says. “Are you having problems with Margot?”
“That woman’s ego is too big for her head, but I’ll handle her nonsense on my own. I’m competition enough for her,” Babette replies coolly and narrows her heavily shadowed eyes.
Sevika’s face must look alarmed because Babette adds, “No one has done anything reckless; she just knows better than to mess with me.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
“Of course, Councilor,” Babette huffs, waving her cigarette holder as if to wave away Sevika’s concerns. “I wouldn’t add to your workload by stirring up unnecessary trouble. My request is not about that.”
“Well, thanks for that. So what do you need help with?” Sevika’s cigarillo has burned down, so she flicks it into the ashtray. Babette, seeing this, sits forward and ashes the last of her cigarette into the little dish.
“I’ve got a girl at the Gardens in need of a different job. I was wondering if you could help,” Babette says. “Her husband died defending against the Noxians, and she’s got a little girl to look after.”
“And she needs something that pays better than the Gardens?” Sevika questions. “Getting something that’s safe, consistent, and pays decently is hard down here.”
“True, but I get the sense it’s wearing her down,” Babette says softly. “The Gardens is a fine place if you want to be there, but not even all the good tips in the world can make it bearable if you don’t.”
Sevika hums her agreement. She’s gathered that sex work can be an enjoyable pursuit, if the women she’s been with at the Gardens are anything to go off of, but she can only imagine how terrible it must feel to have money as the only motivator for staying in it.
“I tried putting her on bar service, but patrons in a brothel don’t drink like they do at a bar. The tips just aren’t enough,” Babette frets. “She can’t afford her rent, and with her little one, I can’t put her up in the brothel… it’s no place for children to grow up, even if my place is more presentable than the Vyx.” She leans in closer and half whispers, “I found the poor thing crying her eyes out in the broom closet a couple days ago. I sent her home with a day’s pay and told her I’d try to figure something out.”
Sevika winces at Babette’s request. It’s much more urgent than she was expecting, and in truth, she doesn’t know of any opportunities that will provide pay that’s both as consistent, decent, and safe as Babette offers. The workers at the Gardens can count on protection from clients and enough pay to support themselves plus tips. Most of them room at the Gardens, too, so they don’t have to worry about rent, either. With whatever she was making in rooms, the woman in question was probably making enough to comfortably afford rent and support her daughter without putting her safety on the line. That’s hard to find in the Undercity.
Sevika can’t blame her for moving to bar service, though. She’d probably rather lose her other arm than put out for money. She’s no stranger to putting her body on the line for compensation, just not like that.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Sevika tells Babette. Her chest tightens a bit at how the Yordle’s deeply lined features relax at this assurance. Babette is one of the few big bosses in the Undercity who cares about her people enough to go out of her way like this, and Sevika is certain the worry over them weighs heavily on her.
“This is a relief to hear!” Babette breathes. “I’m sure this will take a great weight off her shoulders.”
“I can’t promise I’ll find anything for her, though,” Sevika warns. “We both know what you’re offering isn’t so common down here.”
“Yes, of course,” Babette sniffs, waving her cigarette holder dismissively as though she’s already determined Sevika will come through for her. “Maybe I can send her to you, so you can get a better idea of where to look.”
“I’m down here again tomorrow, if she wants to meet me here to talk,” Sevika offers.
“Yes, yes, that will work, thank you!” Babette exclaims. She scrambles down from her chair and turns toward the door, excitedly adjusting her tower of red hair as she goes. “I’ll tell her as soon as I get back to the Gardens. Her name is Minat; you’ll know her by the tattoos on her face.”
~~*~~
Hardly any other constituents arrive after Babette’s departure. It’s a good thing, too, because Sevika’s mind is racing. In the empty time, she wracks her brain for some memory of comparable jobs she can offer Minat or ways to help cover the gap between her money and expenses. Nothing comes to mind.
“I could see if there’s any work topside,” Vi offers quietly once the madame has left.
Sevika grunts noncommittally. Without the grease of Undercity bribes to ease her way, the chances of Vi succeeding are slim. There’s sure to be plenty of work Topside, but the likelihood of there being work someone is willing to give to a Trencher is small.
“I’ll meet her and see what I can do down here first,” Sevika decides. “If there’s nothing for her with us, then we can see what the Pilties are willing to offer.”
Ran hums their agreement and pushes off from their spot on the wall. “You agreed to meet with some Sump workers tomorrow, but if I tell Babette to send Minat in the morning, you can still make it.”
“See, Vi, this is what being useful looks like,” Sevika says to Vi, a teasing smirk on her face.
“I’m not your damn assistant, you hag,” Vi spits. “And you want to see useful? Who was it who sat a bunch of your old gang members down with Cait and the Firelights to discuss a community watch?”
“I believe Ekko had a lot to do with that…” Sevika replies as she pretends to shuffle papers on the desk.
Vi throws her hands up incredulously. “No fucking appreciation in here!”
“Pipe down, you reject rag doll,” Sevika snorts. “I know how hard you worked to get that meeting.” She knows Vi did the heavy lifting on that, especially because of the bad blood between the Firelights and nearly every member of Silco’s old gang. It’s just too easy to tease her.
“A fucking ‘thank you’ would be nice. Your damn monster-jaw friend nearly took my arm off trying to get at Scar during that meeting.”
Sevika casts an exaggerated glance to her prosthetic arm just as Ran passes their own prosthetic in front of their face. “Huh, imagine that.”
“Fuck you, you —“
“ Thank you , Violet,” Sevika drawls, but then she adds in a more sincere tone, “I appreciate your help trying to turn things around down here.”
Vi shuts up at that and retreats to mutter under her breath from her corner.
“How was Piltover business?” Ran asks as they pour a drink from the bar cart. They cross the room to give it to Vi, who gulps it.
“No one came for office hours, like always, but we’ve got a vote at the end of the week,” Sevika replies. “Shoola proposed it.”
“So maybe it won’t be completely inane or stupid,” Vi says. With a drink in her and the heat off her, her temper has retreated.
“You wouldn’t believe the looks I got while she was explaining it, though,” Sevika grumbles.
“Wouldn’t we, though?” Ran says. “Every single one of them treats you like shit.”
“Was it at least a decent proposal?” Vi presses.
Sevika shrugs. “Not something I’ve got much say in,” she replies. “She wants councilors to be able to personally sponsor Academy students.”
“Kind of a ‘screw you’, yeah? She’s got to know you can’t throw around that kind of money,” Vi grumbles. She crosses back to the desk and throws herself on top of it to perch on the surface.
“I can’t expect her to put her business in a corner just because I can’t keep up,” Sevika sighs. “But yeah, it sucks. One of the other councilors was looking at me the whole time like she couldn’t figure out why I was part of such a rich conversation.”
“You going to vote for it?” Ran asks.
Sevika shrugs again. “No reason not to. Besides, Shoola did me a solid voting for the Chemtech proposal, even if it didn’t pass this time. Might as well return the favor.”
“As long as she doesn’t get used to it,” Vi huffs.
Ran nods in agreement. “Topside does have a habit of expecting us to bail them out in exchange for the bare minimum,” they muse. “It might send an important message if you shoot the proposal down just because.”
“Yeh,” Vi grunts. She crosses her arms over her chest and wrinkles her nose in a way that reminds Sevika of a much younger Vi, all bravado and eagerness to protect her siblings. “She won’t even look you in the eye, Sev.”
“Don’t call me that,” Sevika snaps, but there’s no heat in her words. She knows Vi is right.
Beside her, Vi curls her lip but says nothing. She might be married to the sheriff of Piltover, but it’s the Trencher in her that’s winning out on this issue.
“She apologized, you know,” Sevika says, “for the Council mishandling Hextech’s proliferation.” A peal of caustic laughter bursts from her that she wasn’t expecting. “Not for everything the Council has let Piltover do to Zaun, or for everything the Enforcers have done, or for all our people they’ve killed. Just for mishandling Hextech. And she didn’t apologize to me — just to Councilor Hoskel for apparently getting her husband killed.”
Ran blows a low, derisive whistle. “Good fucking luck to us, I guess.”
~~*~~
Babette’s girl Minat is waiting outside the Last Drop by the time Sevika gets there the next morning. She’s a small, thin, nervous thing with sharp lines of tattoos streaking down her cheek, just as Babette promised. She’s got tattoos on her neck, chest, and arms, too, that stretch almost to her hands. Her fingers fiddle nervously with a tattered notebook and her knee jumps nervously as she scans the passersby for Sevika.
“‘Morning!” Sevika calls, trying to sound more upbeat than she feels. She spent the previous evening trying to come up to with solutions to Minat’s troubles and came up with nothing.
“Oh, Councilor!” Minat calls back in a tight voice. “Good morning!” She hurries forward to shake Sevika’s hand. “Babette said you might be able to help me find another job?”
Sevika takes Minat’s offered handshake and nods. “Keyword being ‘might’,” she says. “I can’t make any promises.”
Minat’s head bobs up and down in a robotic nod as Sevika unlocks the bar.
“Babette says she put you on bar service?”
Minat ducks her head. “She did, but I’ve moved back to working in rooms so I can keep up with rent,” she answers softly.
Sevika grunts something understanding and apologetic in place of the words she can’t call to mind. She pushes the door open and motions for Minat to follow.
“Welcome to the Last Drop, or welcome back, if you’ve been here before.” Inside is still dark since it’s too early for Thieram or any of the bar’s staff to be on the clock. Sevika locks the door behind Minat so no nosey patrons can wander in and flicks on a few lights before starting toward the stairs. “My office is just up this way,” she says to Minat.
The smaller woman nods again and hurries to follow.
In her office, Sevika dusts off the chair opposite her desk and motions for Minat to sit. She briefly considers offering the poor woman a drink to calm her nerves, but she reconsiders when she thinks of how early it is. It’ll be hours until noon, so she pours Minat a glass of water from the pitcher on the bar cart instead.
Minat takes the glass with trembling fingers and drinks the water in short, tight sips. Her eyes dart around the office as Sevika takes a seat, and when Sevika quietly clears her throat, she jumps. Babette was right to reach out for help. It’s as clear as the river is dirty that Minat can’t handle much more time at the Gardens.
“So, you’ve gone back to working in rooms…” Sevika begins. When Minat winces, she shifts gears and asks, “What kind of job would you prefer?”
“I-I haven’t really had a chance to think about it,” Minat replies. “Things have felt so bad, I figure anything would be better than this.”
“Okay, so we’ve got a lot we can work with then,” Sevika says. “What about your kid? Babette mentioned you had one?”
Minat’s face brightens just a tad. “Sibi, my daughter — my neighbor watches her during the day. It was kind of an exchange, since I told her my husband’s job was up for grabs after he…” Her voice falters at this, and her entire face tightens as she seems to fight tears. “And her husband was looking for a better paying job, and well…” Minat swipes at her eyes and sniffs harshly to get on top of her emotions. “She was so thankful that she lets me leave Sibi with her and her children when I’m working. It won’t be a problem at a new job.”
Sevika nods and casts about for a clean sheet of paper so she can write this and any other relevant information down. She’s not the neatest, so normally Ran will try to tidy up for her when they have the time. Generally, Sevika can expect that they’ll have gathered her hastily scrawled notes from constituent meetings into organized stacks, set important notices where she can notice them quickly, and the like. But Ran had places to be last night, and Sevika hurried home to rack her brains about Minat’s problem. The desk is still a mess.
“Um, I brought this along,” Minat says, her tiny voice cutting through Sevika’s search for a clean sheet of paper. She hands Sevika the beat-up notebook.
Sevika opens it to reveal even columns of numbers and calculations on some pages, prim grids of names and times on others. The handwriting is perfectly neat.
“Babette was having some trouble with scheduling and supplies thanks to all the mess with” — Minat waves her hands aimlessly — “so I worked some things out for her between clients. Gave me something else to focus on.”
Sevika looks from the notebook to Minat and back again. As Silco’s second, she used to spend a lot of time reviewing business owners’ books to make sure they weren’t shortchanging Silco on his collections, so she knows a thing or two about supplies math. Minat has an eye for detail and a brain for scheduling, clearly, and as Sevika continues to flip through the notebook, an idea begins to form.
“How do you feel about working with Pilties?” she asks Minat.
Minat startles at the question, as if it’s the last thing she expected Sevika to ask, and her fingers fly up to fidget anxiously with the tendrils of her chin-length black hair as she considers the question. “If that’s what it takes,” she replies. Her jaw is set firm, but her voice shrinks a bit.
“I could use an intern, of sorts, and the Piltie ones I was assigned were all scared of me,” Sevika says. She holds up the notebook. “If this is what you were able to do for Babette, then you’re more than qualified to help me out. Plus the pay Piltover can afford to offer is better than anything you’ll find down here for the time being.”
Minat is momentarily silent as she blinks at Sevika.
“If that’s agreeable to you, meet me by the bathysphere at seven in the morning on the first weekday next week,” Sevika continues. “We can figure out some preliminary guidelines and tasks on the way up Topside.” She hands the notebook back to Minat, who takes it almost robotically as she nods frantically. “That work for you?”
~~*~~
The thought of having an intern she won’t scare off lifts Sevika’s spirits until she walks into the Council chamber the next morning. A trio of other councilors are already present, huddled together like Undercity teens sharing gossip and snacks. They don’t notice her when she enters the chamber so she hangs just in earshot and strains her ears to hear what they’re saying.
“…Doesn’t have the votes. At best, it will deadlock and go nowhere, since there’s no way that Zaunite votes in favor of it,” Councilor Hoskel says, the word ‘Zaunite’ flying from her lips like a wad of spit.
“No, I think not,” the blond councilor drones. “I think we are safe from this bit of Councilor Shoola’s misplaced charity.”
Sevika stomps over to her seat and loudly drags the chair away from the table. The circle of councilors startle, much to her satisfaction, and titter amongst themselves while shooting venomous glances at her.
“’Morning,” Sevika says, greeting them all with an equally venomous smirk. She takes her seat and rifles through her notes.
After a while, the gray-haired councilor with the goatee arrives. He’s deep in conversation with the condescending councilor, who offers Sevika a sickly sweet smile and a head nod that rattles the glass adornments holding her rosy hair up.
Sevika doesn’t smile back — she even frowns — but she offers a head nod in return.
At length, Shoola arrives, metal facial adornment and bib necklace glinting as she steps into the bright room. She nods to some of the other councilors as she takes her seat. Once seated, she nods at Sevika, though she keeps her eyes lowered as she does so.
It grates at Sevika, as it always does, but she listens with a straight face as conversation turns from one useless topic to another. Councilor Hoskel mentions that the memorial statue to the councilors Jinx killed has grown somewhat dingy, which causes a bit of a commotion as other councilors hurry to propose they install a dedicated caretaker for the thing. Another councilor mentions that it’s almost time for some event at Piltover’s Botanic Gardens, which Sevika could never afford entry to, and on and on the chatter goes until mercifully, the goateed councilor raises a hand.
He clears his throat and asks, “I believe our most pressing business for the day is the vote on Councilor Shoola’s Academy proposal, is it not?”
Silence falls over the chamber as Shoola stands up and a shade passes over the room. “I have nothing more to add to my presentation or the brief I supplied everyone with. On the matter of opening sponsorship for the Academy’s foundational years beyond an attendee’s natural House, I vote yea.”
Glowing in the newly dim room, the light above Shoola’s seat turns on with a heavy click, indicating a favorable vote.
Councilor Hoskel keeps her hand down. Her face twists in a near scowl as she stares at Shoola. “I vote nay,” she says, simply. Her light does not turn on.
“House Ferros cannot support this neglect of the Academy’s standards. I condemn this recklessness from you, Councilor Shoola,” the blond councilor from House Ferros says. He doesn’t bother to look at Shoola and keeps his hand down.
The next councilor shakes his head with a robotic whirring of gears. “I will not support this proposal,” he says, and his light does not turn on.
Shoola’s expression doesn’t falter as the success of her proposal falls into question. Sevika wonders how many times she’s done this and had to stand by as her colleagues blocked her from her goal. She doubts it’s ever been as bitter taste to swallow as the failure of the Chemtech proposal was to her, but still she wonders as she waits for her turn to vote.
“I am certain the members of House Cadwalder will welcome the chance to sponsor those less fortunate than them. I vote in favor,” the rosy-haired councilor says. She shoots Sevika a look that is almost apologetic, disgustingly, and raises her hand. Her light turns on.
“I shall support Councilor Shoola’s vote, as well,” the goateed councilor states. “House Tariost must have novelties to ship. We must apply as many minds as possible to the problem of Piltover’s innovation, or we will founder; I vote in favor.” He raises his hand, and his light turns on.
Then all eyes are on Sevika. She refuses to look at Shoola to see if she, too, is looking at her. For a moment, she glares around the table at her other colleagues, making them wait with baited breath. She’s never been the deciding vote before. Normally, her colleagues have decided the matter between themselves before her turn to vote comes. Sevika relishes the moment; for just a second, she feels a hint of the power she used to feel running around as Silco’s second.
She puts her hand up.
~~*~~
There is little fanfare afterward. Councilors Hoskel and Ferros won’t speak to her after the vote, though their companion in opposition does shake her hand afterward. Shoola also shakes her hand, her eyes firmly fixed on Sevika’s prosthetic arm, and then Sevika leaves the chamber to attend to tasks around the building.
She fetches an orientation packet and intern’s vest for Minat, and arranges for a small desk to be delivered to her office so the woman has somewhere to work. Then she runs about notifying the necessary parties that she’s taking on yet another new intern and tries to ignore the frustrated looks on the clerks’ faces as she tells them.
It all takes longer than expected, so it’s evening when she returns to her office to fetch her cape so she can go home. When she returns, there’s another bottle of stunningly expensive alcohol on her desk. This time it’s rum, which is closer to her tastes. It’s not her drink of choice, but she might open this one on a tough night in Piltover.
For now, Sevika places the bottle next to the others and puzzles over why it’s there. She hasn’t done anything this time. She hasn’t had a successful vote or lost a hard fought one, and she doubts her colleagues are the type to give someone like her gifts just because. And Councilor Hoskel and Councilor Ferros would probably like to have her hide right now, so there’s no way they helped purchase this.
There’s another note of heavy card stock lying on the desk, as well. Sevika flicks it open and can’t help the wry smirk that crosses her face.
‘Thanks for your help today,’ the note reads, ‘I really appreciated your support.’
So it’s Shoola who’s been leaving the notes and trying to guess what alcohol she likes. Sevika chuckles, something a little genuine and a little sardonic. Janna, Shoola’s a rude bitch, but it seems she knows how to be polite after all.
Notes:
Hi, and thanks for reading! If you had to skip because of content concerns, thanks for reading everything else! Here's what you need to catch up on:
Babette comes to Sevika during office hours for help finding new work away from the Gardens for Minat, one of her girls. Minat's husband was killed during the battle against the Noxians, and now she's struggling to afford rent and support her young daughter. After speaking to Minat, Sevika decides to take her on as an intern, so she'll have some help in Piltover and Minat will be able to receive the increased Piltover wages.
~*~
Additionally, while I wish I could say I came up with Sevika's insult 'reject rag doll' all on my own, it was inspired by an insult that made me laugh so hard I cried from author "br_er's" fic "with strange tenderness". It's an absolutely stunning Melvika fic that made me cry, and I can't recommend it enough, even if you're not a big Melvika fan.
Chapter 4: Better Not Get Used to It
Notes:
I did not at all anticipate it taking me several months to write one chapter, but life and work unfortunately got in the way. Thank you so much for your patience and encouragement. Here's sincerely hoping it doesn't take me so long to write chapter 5.
Chapter Text
Not much surprises Sevika in the Undercity. She’s seen it move through all its different phases, tumbling at times and shambling at others. She’s seen it as the homey ruins that Vander oversaw and the drug-fueled mosh pit that Silco ruled. It’s only been months since it was the prison that Caitlyn and the Noxians brought down on all their heads, and now it’s some wobbly, fragile thing that she is desperately trying to nurture. It helps that she has help — Ran and Vi, Ekko and his Firelights, Bex, and now Minat — and she’s come to rely heavily on everyone willing to lend a helping hand. She’s also gotten real used to everyone functioning in their places and roles, so seeing Bex, apparently on her way Topside, startles her.
“Oh, Councilor!” Bex exclaims when she sees Sevika. Today, her dark braids are pinned in a bun at the base of her head, and she seems to have applied some makeup to her coppery skin.
“You’re going Topside?” Sevika asks, hoping she doesn’t sound too skeptical.
“I’m picking up some materials from a shopkeeper up there,” Bex replies brightly. “Working on a new project.”
“Phalange prosthetics?”
Bex cocks her head to the side. “You could say that. Sort of an ancillary project to that.”
Sevika nods uneasily. She definitely wants to see Bex make progress on the phalange prosthetic project, but she doesn’t love that Bex has decided to go Topside to do that. Sevika is perfectly capable of taking care of herself up in Piltover, and Minat will be under her protection, but the thought of Bex running around through Piltover’s glitzy streets on her own makes Sevika nervous. A person doesn’t get far in the Undercity without the necessary street smarts, but few people from the Undercity have any knowledge of how things work Topside, and a short, wide-eyed engineer seems to Sevika like a perfect mark to take advantage of.
“Be careful, Bex,” she says firmly. “If you feel like you’re in danger or even if you feel like you’re being ripped off, send for me.”
“Councilor, I’m going Topside, not to the Sump,” Bex snorts.
“Bex, just months ago anyone from the Undercity would’ve been held up just for wandering around Piltover,” Sevika retorts. “Please be careful. Do you know where you’re going?”
Bex rolls her eyes but produces a creased sheet of paper from the satchel hanging from her shoulder. “This is the address and directions. I’m going to the shopkeeper, and then I’m going to the airship depot to see about some materials that couldn’t transport after the Hextech failed. It’ll be quick — an in and out errand.”
Sevika takes the paper and looks over the directions. She’s deeply familiar with the airship depot, and while she remembers it for far more nefarious dealings than Bex seems to be about, the directions are sound enough that she can’t find reason to tell Bex she shouldn’t go.
“Just promise me you’ll keep an eye on yourself,” she huffs, at last.
Bex takes back the sheet of paper and folds it back into her satchel. “I’ll keep my wits about me and come back,” Bex promises. “I’m not there to sightsee.”
Sevika huffs again, but she doesn’t bother Bex about the matter anymore. Bex is an adult, after all. Instead she turns her attention to the path leading to the bathysphere. Minat should be here shortly, so she can ride Topside on her first day working for Sevika. While Bex seems like she would have been perfectly content to make her first trip Topside unsupervised, Minat strikes Sevika as entirely too nervous to do that.
She doesn’t have to wait long. In the next few minutes, Minat appears, jogging up the path toward Sevika and Bex. She’s wearing a high-necked black shirt with long sleeves that cover her tattoos, and a beat-up canvas satchel swings from her shoulder as she hurries along. She’s gripping her notebook from earlier to her chest so hard that, as she draws closer, Sevika can see her nails biting into its cardboard cover.
“’Morning, Minat,” Sevika greets her once she’s within a reasonable range. “You doing alright?”
“Yes, Councilor!” Minat replies with a tight nod. “How are you?”
“About as good as anyone can be this early on a work day,” Sevika says, shrugging.
Minat nods dutifully, as if this is something she’ll need to remember.
“This is Bex, an associate of mine. Works at the rehab home,” Sevika says, motioning to Bex. “Apparently she’s also going Topside today.” She tries to keep her tone light as she motions to the engineer, but fails to stop the disapproval from creeping in to her voice some. “Depending on how things go in the future, I might have you schedule meetings with her.”
Bex, however, smiles brightly. When she speaks, her tone is all friendliness. “Yes, I specialize in prosthesis work over at the home,” she says. “And you are?” She extends her hand.
“I’m Minat,” Minat replies softly. She takes Bex’s hand and shakes it lightly before looking to Sevika. “Um?”
“She’s my new intern,” Sevika tells Bex.
“Oh, wonderful!” Bex exclaims. “Since she’s one of ours, maybe she’ll stick around for a while.”
“Hope so,” Sevika mutters. “I could really use some help up th…”
Her voice is cut off by the echoing creak of the bathysphere as it begins its descent to the Undercity. In time, the old thing arrives, and the three of them board. This early in the morning, they’re the only ones riding, which is a relief. As much as Sevika loves her people, she’s not a fan of being packed in with others.
They sit in silence for several minutes. Bex sits looking over some schematics she’s fished out of her satchel and Sevika silently goes over the things she’ll need to do to get Minat set up in Piltover’s city hall.
“The only time I’ve ever ridden this was when the Noxians attacked Topside,” Minat says, when they’re about halfway through the ride. “My daughter and I evacuated, and my husband stayed behind to fight.” Her voice drops a bit lower. “An arrow got him in his neck.”
Sevika isn’t sure what to say to that, so she just murmurs her sympathies and shifts around Minat to stare out the window beside her.
Bex says her goodbyes when the trio reaches the station at the top of the fissure. With a knot of anxiety snarling in her chest, Sevika watches as she trots off down the street. As far as Sevika can see, no one accosts the little engineer, but then she turns a corner and disappears from sight. Hopefully she’ll be okay.
“Well,” Sevika sighs, turning to Minat. She shrugs her shoulders to shake off her worry for Bex. “That’s our destination.” She points to the massive building that houses Piltover’s City Hall. “Let’s head over and get you set up.”
~~*~~
It’s clear to Sevika immediately upon entering the building that Minat has never seen anything so grand. She shamelessly cranes her neck to stare at the expanse of the ceiling in the entry hall and when she’s done staring at that, turns this way and that taking in the sights of massive portraits, marble tiled floors, and the gilded bannister that winds up to the mezzanine level of the hall. The excess of it all irritates Sevika. The cost of this hall alone could fund several public works projects in Zaun, after all, but she allows Minat her awe.
It’s early enough that there’s almost no one around as Sevika leads Minat up the stairway, onto the mezzanine, and into one of the hydraulic lifts that will take them up to the levels that hold the councilors’ offices. The lift attendant nods wordlessly to them as they enter the lift and gives Sevika a stiff wave when she wishes him a good day as they exit, and they encounter no one else. Only the sound of Minat’s shuffling footsteps and the sound of Sevika’s heavy boots accompany them as they make their way to Sevika’s office, and then it’s only the jingle of keys that greets them as Sevika unlocks the door and ushers Minat inside.
“This is my office in Piltover,” Sevika says with a sweep of her arm. She points at the small desk in the corner opposite her shelves and finds herself relieved that the maintenance staff have thought to furnish it with more than just a chair. A lamp and a small spread of office supplies sit primly on its surface. “You’ll be working over here.”
Minat nods silently and sets her satchel and notebook on the desktop.
“You can decorate your desk however you like,” Sevika says absently. She crosses the small room to crouch at one of her desk drawers so she can retrieve a hefty envelope from it.
At her new desk, Minat fishes out what seems to be a photo of her satchel and places it gently at the top corner of the desk, placing one of its corners beneath the lamp.
“This is for you.” Sevika crosses back to Minat’s desk and holds the packet out for her. “It’s got your orientation packet and your intern’s sash. Make sure to wear that so people know you work here.”
Minat nods and takes the packet wordlessly. Delicately, she removes the orientation packet and sets it aside so she can put on her sash. For a few seconds, she fusses with the garish blue and gold thing before giving up and letting it lie.
Sevika nods her approval. “You’ll probably want to read through the orientation packet at some point,” she says. “It’s got a map of the building, list of people to remember, and the Council schedule — all stuff you’ll want to know.”
“Yes, of course,” Minat says quietly. She casts about the room before turning her gaze to the small array of office supplies laid out on her desk. “What exactly will I be doing?”
Sevika motions for Minat to follow her and steps out of her office. Minat follows in soft, hurried steps. “I could use an errand runner and someone to arrange Council briefs and vote proposals when necessary,” she says. “I think the other councilors have their interns read and summarize the materials they receive, but I think I’d prefer to keep doing that myself. And then other tasks, as needed, I guess.”
“That seems like something I could do,” Minat says. It sounds like she’s reassuring herself rather than agreeing.
“I’ll show you where the other councilors’ offices are, now, so you know where to find them when I need proposals delivered. It might be a lot of running around, sometimes, but it shouldn’t be too busy.”
“Do they need to be delivered right to the councilors, or do you just want them to go to their offices?” Minat presses. When Sevika turns to look at her, she can see the woman’s brows are knitted together with anxiety.
Sevika stops walking and turns to face her. “I just need you to slip them under their door. What they choose to do with them after that is up to them.” She lays a heavy but gentle hand on Minat’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” she assures her. “Pilties seem like a lot at first, but you’ll learn how to deal with them.” When Minat nods stiffly, she nods back and starts walking again. “Besides, you’ll be working with me in Zaun, too, so it won’t be Piltover stuff all the time.”
After only bit more walking, Sevika turns into the hallway containing Shoola’s office and is surprised to hear footsteps coming their way. As the person comes into better view, it turns out to be Shoola’s intern, a short young woman with a round face and a flawless braided bun, shuffling through papers as she hurries from the opposite end of the hall.
“Oh! Councilor!” the intern squeaks as she nearly barrels into Sevika. Sevika doesn’t bother to step out of the way. Shoola’s intern is as thin as Sevika is muscular, so a collision won’t do much. “I didn’t expect anyone would be in this early.”
“Neither did I,” Sevika replies evenly. She turns to Minat. “Minat, this is Lorelai, Councilor Shoola’s intern.”
Lorelai extends a perfectly manicured hand to Minat. “Nice to meet you,” she says. “And you are?”
“I’m Minat,” Minat replies, barely above a whisper. Lorelai is years and years younger than Minat, but it’s clear that her presence has only added to Minat’s nerves.
“She’s my new intern. I’m showing her around before the day starts,” Sevika adds.
“Oh, how nice!” Lorelai exclaims. She awkwardly shifts her papers into one arm before digging around in her pocket. “Well, the Councilor is in already, as well, if you’d like to introduce Minat to her.”
Sevika can’t help but frown in confusion. She and Minat are very early, and while it’s not totally unheard of for interns to arrive early to cover busy work ahead of Council sessions, councilors other than Sevika never arrive ahead of the first meeting of the day.
“Shoola’s in?” she asks. She hopes Lorelai doesn’t detect the incredulity in her voice.
“Ah, yes, she had some paperwork to review ahead of sessions,” Lorelai explains. “She’s been here for a while, though, so she should be wrapping up.”
She knocks on the door of Shoola’s office and waits for the sharp, smooth tone of Shoola’s voice to sound.
“Come in,” Shoola answers.
“Councilor Sevika’s here to introduce her new intern, ma’am,” Lorelai informs her.
“Oh?” Shoola looks up from the paper work she’s reviewing and immediately skips her eyes over Sevika’s shoulder to land on Minat. Smoothly she rises from her seat and rounds her desk as Lorelai ushers Sevika and Minat into the office.
“This is Minat,” Sevika says, motioning just behind herself. The smaller woman steps forward to stand beside her. “She’ll be assisting me.”
If Shoola is surprised by Minat’s appearance, she doesn’t show it. Sevika knows she’s seen Zaunites at a distance before, but she’s not sure if she’s seen anyone other than her this close. And unlike, Sevika, Minat’s face is tattooed. Still, the expression Shoola offers Minat is welcoming and far more open than any look she’s aimed Sevika’s way.
“I hope you’ll enjoy your time working here,” Shoola says. She extends a hand full of gilded claws to Minat.
Minat takes the councilor’s hand and shakes it lightly. “That’s beautiful work you have…” She glances down to Shoola’s fingers.
For a moment, Shoola’s expression freezes and tension crinkles the corners of her eye not surrounded by gold. Her hand in Minat’s barely-there grip falters.
“Thank you,” Shoola replies. To Sevika’s knowing ear, the ease in her voice sounds forced.
Minat doesn’t seem to have noticed Shoola’s reaction; she’s too fascinated with her jewelry. She lets go of Shoola’s hand and nods a bit awkwardly, but she seems at ease enough. The mild distraction seems to have helped her anxiety at how unfamiliar everything is.
“We’re going to continue our tour ahead of the start of this morning’s session,” Sevika says. “Thanks for taking the time.”
“Of course,” Shoola says, a bit too warmly.
“Nice to meet you,” Minat says, ducking her head in farewell.
“A pleasure!” Lorelai chirps.
Shoola doesn’t look at Sevika the entire exchange.
~~*~~
There isn’t much business to cover during the Council session, which is good because Sevika’s left Minat alone in her office to review the orientation packet and try her hand at some preliminary filing tasks. Councilor Hoskel proposes an inane vote to hire a caretaker for the deceased councilors’ memorial and seems to fold her leathery face into a scowl at Sevika between sentences. The goateed councilor makes a show of stroking his beard and asking how everyone enjoyed the opera over the weekend, and then bumbles through a show of apologizing to Sevika when the rosy-haired councilor openly glares and motions to Sevika with a raise of her pink eyebrows.
What Sevika wouldn’t give for a smoke or a drink or even a hit of Shimmer right now.
She’s considering openly groaning and asking if they can adjourn when Shoola clears her throat and stands up and taps a claw on the marble table for attention.
“I would like to inform you all that I will be taking a short leave of absence,” she says. “Starting next week, for the next two weeks, I will be away. My intern Lorelai will relay updates to me and vote as my proxy in my absence, if necessary.”
“This hardly seems like the time for a vacation, Councilor,” the goateed councilor objects. He doesn’t sound offended so much as confused. “We have yet to solve the issue of Piltover’s trade problem.”
“This is true,” Shoola sighs, “but I will not be absent for recreation. I have been plagued by a medical concern, and the time has come to address it.”
The admission prompts a hum of concern from around the table, and the rosy-haired councilor even coos. Sevika keeps quiet, but she does look sidelong at Shoola. The other councilor is looking straight ahead, whether to get through the awkward moment of admitting she’s unwell or avoid looking at Sevika, Sevika isn’t sure.
“Is there anything you need?” the goateed councilor asks.
“Of course, I and House Ferros will gladly supply anything needed for your speedy recovery,” the moist, blond councilor drones.
“No, I expect it to be very straightforward, and provided my recuperation goes to plan, I’ll be back to work in short order, though I appreciate your concern,” Shoola assures the room. She takes her seat lightly and leans into the back of her seat.
“Shall we vote on my proposal now, then, so Councilor Shoola can begin her convalescence early?” Councilor Hoskel asks. “I can’t imagine it will be a controversial vote or one that needs much consideration.” She shoots a threatening glance at Sevika, as if she expects Sevika to oppose her for spite.
I second the motion,” the goateed councilor says.
The shade passes over the room, and in short order the matter is decided unanimously. The Council memorial will have a dedicated caretaker. For one vindictive moment, Sevika considers withholding her support to make a point about Vander’s statue down in the Undercity. After all, it received plenty abuse from the Enforcers and then from the Noxians, but the community has done an admirable job with its upkeep — without the expense of caretaker — since the Enforcers’ withdrawal back to Piltover. Opposing the proposal would only draw malice from Councilor Hoskel anyway, and there are better ways to make a point. Still, when the shade retracts, Sevika can’t help but aim an annoyed look the old bag’s way.
After that, the councilors exit the room with well-wishes to Shoola for luck in her medical procedure. Sevika is herself about to exit with a nod of encouragement, but Shoola stands from her seat a bit suddenly as she’s about to leave.
“Ah, Councilor!” Shoola interjects.
Sevika furrows her brows as she turns around. The other councilors have gone, and Shoola rarely addresses her so directly. Even this morning, she didn’t greet her.
When Shoola doesn’t immediately say her piece, Sevika raises an eyebrow and says, “Yes?”
This seems to jolt Shoola out of whatever distraction she’s fallen into. “I simply wanted to…” she trails off as her eyes slide from Sevika’s elbow to the articulated joints of her prosthetic fingers. “I wanted… how is your intern doing? Minat was it?”
Sevika frowns but decides not to comment on Shoola’s strange line of questioning. The other councilor looks even more tense than she did this morning. “She’s doing fine. A bit nervous, but it’s a lot to take in.”
“That’s to be expected, I suppose,” Shoola murmurs. She falls silent for a moment before adding, “I’ll ask Lorelai to look out for her. She knows her way around very well, and it can’t be easy for a Zaunite…”
“Minat’ll do just fine,” Sevika replies too sharply.
Shoola startles a bit at this, but she blinks and nods. “Of course! I didn’t mean to imply — she’ll do perfectly well, I’m sure.” She nods again and steps around Sevika, all without looking higher than her shoulder. “Have a good day, Councilor.”
~~*~~
As expected, Sevika receives no visitors during her office hours the next day in Piltover, so she takes the opportunity to explain to Minat what to expect from office hours in Zaun. She hopes that Vi and Ran will be on their best behavior for Minat’s first day working with them at least. Ran will humor her, she thinks. For Vi, she’s nowhere near as optimistic.
Much to Sevika’s relief, they keep the snark and bickering to a minimum after Minat arrives to the Last Drop the following afternoon. True to form, Ran behaves perfectly normally. Vi is mostly fine, though she does tell Minat that if she ever catches Sevika zoning out, she’s free to ‘do the humane thing’. Sevika glowers, and Minat looks alarmed until she relaxes enough to realize Vi is joking, but everything is smooth sailing from there. After that, Ran brings up the first person seeking an audience and Minat takes a seat on the opposite edge of the desk from Vi’s normal perch and takes notes.
There haven’t been any major developments to get the Undercity worked up, so it’s a light day. Sevika listens to a few disputes between business owners, accepts a few small gifts from constituents and receives one complaint about Margot’s Vixens soliciting patrons outside of Vyx territory. Sevika shoots a look at Vi and Ran since this is distinctly out of bounds behavior and asks the woman who’s brought the complaint a number of follow-up questions.
“This won’t get back to Margot, will it?” the woman asks nervously when she’s answered all of Sevika’s questions.
“She’ll never know who made the complaint,” Sevika assures her. “And if she was stupid enough to let her people wander outside of her territory, someone was bound to notice anyway. Thank you for letting me know.”
The woman offers her advance thanks for Sevika’s help, and then that’s the last of the visitors for a while.
After everyone’s had a moment to settle, Vi crosses to the desk from her corner and peers over Minat’s shoulder. She whistles. “You got all that?” she asks her new colleague.
Minat flips back through pages and pages of notes in her notebook, allowing Vi and Sevika to glance over them as she turns each page. “I hope so,” she says quietly. “There was a lot to keep track of, especially after the last person arrived.” She pauses to chew her lip for a moment before adding for Sevika’s benefit, “I can write all this down on some loose paper so you have it.”
Sevika is already hoping Minat stays on forever. Normally, she’s the one who has to take her own notes, splitting her attention between jotting down relevant information and continuing to engage with the visiting constituents. Today, for once, her desk looks clean after a session of office hours, and her head feels clearer for it, too. “That would be… extremely helpful,” she replies and can’t keep the relief out of her voice.
Minat nods, all business, and begins to cast about for blank paper.
“Second drawer down, right in front of you,” Vi supplies. “Though who knows if Sevika remembered to get more paper. She’s been scribbling notes on whatever she’s got in front of her for weeks now.”
“I remembered to get more paper,” Ran says, “and it’s in the third drawer down.”
Sevika cuts her eyes at Vi and tenses her jaw as if to speak.
“Don’t fucking say it!” Vi snaps. “We don’t need to hear more about you picking favorites.”
“Who said I had favorites?” Sevika drawls. “Don’t give Minat the wrong impression.”
Vi rolls her eyes as Minat ducks to fetch the paper. “Yeah, don’t give Minat the wrong impression that I’m not your least favorite,” Vi grumbles.
“Well, Ran’s never tried to kill me,” Sevika says with a shrug.
From her seat, Minat gasps and looks around the room with wide eyes.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds anymore,” Vi offers in an apologetic tone. “They’ve both tried to kill me. You get over it after a while.”
Minat nods slowly and flattens her mouth into an unconfident grimace. She flicks her eyes from woman to woman and then to Ran before ducking her head and whispering, “Your notes.” Without another word, she sets to jotting down notes on the last meeting for Sevika.
Ever the sympathetic one, Ran pours Minat a mix of whiskey and water from the bar cart. They gently set the glass at her wrist with knowing smile. “These two were actually on good behavior today,” they say. “Better not to get used to it.”
~~*~~
The next day, Vi is busy in Piltover and Ran is off getting more information on Margot’s overreach, so Minat is Sevika’s only company when she visits the rehab home on her walkabout. They meet at the Last Drop and set off, Minat walking double-time to keep up with Sevika’s long strides.
“So today is the day you survey the Lanes?” Minat asks as she hurries to keep up.
Sevika nods. “Somewhat,” she says. “I put my face in all over the Fissures. The Lanes… the Sump…” She gives Minat a sidelong look as she says this part and notices the other woman grimacing. “You don’t have to go to the Sump with me,” she adds. “I can let you know what I need written down after I come up from there.”
Minat’s fingers grip the strap of her satchel tightly, but she replies, “No, I can go with you! Th-that’s the job isn’t it?”
Sevika can’t help but notice how thin Minat’s voice is as she says this. It’s no surprise; the Sump is no place for a nervous thing like her. It’s the proving ground for the ambitious and the desperate. She and Jinx used to spend a fair amount of time down there ‘discouraging’ arrogant little upstarts from trying to rally enough people to challenge Silco, and Jinx used to even call it a good time. But Minat isn’t that kind of person. The idea of going down there must terrify her.
Lucky for Sevika, her reputation has held even with Silco’s death and her change of position. People know better than to mess with her, even that deep in the Fissures. And even luckier for Minat, Sevika has no plans for going there today.
“I like your dedication, but it’s not a Sump today,” Sevika assures Minat, and Minat’s knuckles relax as her fingers stop clutching her satchel. “There’s something I want you to see out by the rehab home.”
They head off in the direction of the former commune and are stopped several times as they make their way. Shopkeepers wave them over to sample their wares, parents show off their children who will soon be attending school, and a few people ask Sevika to solve disputes right out in the open. Minat seems to take note of all of it. Eventually, she falls into step a few paces behind Sevika as she jots things down in her notebook. Sevika’s not sure what there is to write, but she’s already come to appreciate how attentive Minat is, and she figures she can always ask after what Minat found so interesting in all the interactions.
At length, they break away from the hustle and bustle of the Lanes and descend to the valley where the rehab home lies. A pleased smile sneaks its way onto Sevika’s face when she hears Minat’s gasp as the collection of pale, round buildings comes into view. Few places in the Undercity get as much sunlight as the rehab home does, and nowhere in the Undercity is as open as the valley that surrounds it.
“I didn’t know it was this beautiful,” Minat murmurs. “I heard about it, but I never got the chance to see it.”
Sevika chuckles wryly. “Yeah, it’s plenty pretty now that it’s safe,” she says. “Used to be crawling with Noxians and all those people the Herald stole but now it’s kind of a hospital and a retreat of sorts.”
“How long did it take for the Piltover Council to approve this?” Minat asks. As they draw closer, her eyes begin to rove the rounded roofs and the iridescent colors that lie before them.
“They didn’t approve shit,” Sevika says proudly. “Trenchers built it. They got the patients out here, cleaned the houses up, built up the workshop. Asking Topside for permission never crossed anyone’s mind.”
Minat’s eyes grow wide in wonder. It’s a novel concept Sevika knows, regrettably. It takes a lot to create something so good at such a large scale, and the Undercity is painfully used to having to operate at Topside’s discretion. But this they can be proud of. This they built all on their own.
“Bex works here,” Sevika adds. “She’s one of the cybernetics engineers. You’ll get to know her real well working for me.”
~~*~~
Minat seems to relax visibly once she and Sevika walk under the archway of the rehab home. She greets nurses as they pass by and introduces herself to patients out getting fresh air. As always, she jots down things she notices in her notebook before jogging to catch up to Sevika or greet the next person to express curiosity in her. By the time they reach the engineer’s workshop at the center of the home, she almost seems like a new person.
Almost. Minat stiffens up the minute Sevika ushers her into the hustle and bustle of the workshop. Engineers are hard at work within the bubble of the building. Off in a corner, sparks fly from one engineer’s workbench and in another, the belch of chem gases sounds from another workspace as an engineer observes a chem solution gurgle through a series of tubes and beakers. Engineers call to another, swear, cheer, and bicker all throughout the building. It’s much more reminiscent of the Lane’s frenzy than anything outside could ever be.
Sevika does not see Bex in this frenzy, though, which is odd because normally Bex would have noticed her pretty quickly.
“You get used to the chaos…” Sevika offers absently as she cranes her neck to try to find Bex. She doesn’t lay eyes on the eager engineer. She stops a passing engineer with a heavy hand on his shoulder as he attempts to step around her and out of the workshop with a friendly nod.
“Councilor!” he exclaims, friendly despite being interrupted. “How are you today?”
“I’m fine,” Sevika replies. “Is Bex around?”
The engineer shakes his head. “She’s not down here today. She’s got some business with someone Topside,”he says. When a muscle near Sevika’s eye twitches, he shrugs. “She’s been a bit secretive about it all, but I think she might be working on some big project — other than the phalange prosthetics and the Chem proposal, that is.”
“And she hasn’t said anything about what that might be?”
The engineer shakes his head. “No, she came down here with a case full of materials sometime yesterday, dropped that off, gathered up a bunch of her tools and said we probably wouldn’t see her for a few days.”
A frustrated growl rumbles at the back of Sevika’s throat as she turns her eyes to Bex’s work station. It’s clean; all the wires and tools that normally cover the surface are either tucked away in their respective drawers or they’re wherever Bex is. There are no cybernetics or even dust cloths folded up and stacked off to the side. The only indication that the workspace belongs to anyone is a sheet of paper lying on top of the scratched metal surface.
“Thanks,” Sevika tells the engineer. She nods for Minat to follow and approaches the workbench.
‘Unavailable for the next week or so. Hopefully good news to share in due time. Excited to share updates. -Bex’
Sevika stares at the sheet of paper held in her prosthetic hand and reads over the scrawled message a few times before it sinks in.
“Bex didn’t say anything about what she was up to?” she demands of the nearest engineer, a reedy woman with a ladder of piercings lining the shell of one ear.
The engineer shrugs and shakes her head apologetically.
Sevika scoffs, but to quiet the anxiety bubbling in her chest. She knows Bex is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Engineers have always been a hot commodity for chem-barons since their specialized skills make them lucrative employees. Prior the Noxians’ invasion, it was nearly impossible for someone as technically skilled as Bex to remain unaffiliated with some chem-baron or another. As a group, they had a way of getting what they wanted from civilians. Ekko managed it, but he had the protection of the Firelights. Bex had the protection of no one, and she’s remained unaffiliated her whole life.
She should be fine, but still…
“Could you tell Bex I stopped by if she happens to come back?” Sevika asks the engineer with the stack of ear piercings.
“Of course, Councilor!” the engineer agrees. “Should I tell her to meet you at your office?”
Sevika shakes her head. “No need to make her go all the way out to the Last Drop,” she sighs. “Just… if you see her, tell her to be careful. I’ll stop by again sometime next week.”
“Yeah, I’ll be sure to tell her,” the engineer replies.
Sevika nods her thanks and turns to Minat. “Come on,” she says, “I’ll show you around the rest of the rehab home.”
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