Arcane headcanons | °• Sevika •°

You leave within the night

• Sevika wakes up in the small, shared space, immediately sensing something is off. The side of the bed where you usually sleep is cold and empty.

• She calls out for you, her voice gruff and low, but there’s no response. Her brow furrows as she sits up, glancing around the room.

• At first, she assumes you’ve gone out, but there’s no note, no sign of where you might’ve gone.

• A gnawing unease sets in. Sevika checks your usual spots in Zaun—the market, The Last Drop, even a few alleyways where you sometimes wander—but there’s no trace of you.

• The more places she checks, the harder her expression becomes, but underneath the steel exterior, worry claws at her.

• She questions anyone who might’ve seen you, her tone sharp and impatient. “You see her last night? Think carefully.”

• Most people shake their heads, not wanting to get caught in Sevika’s intensity. A few offer vague answers, but nothing useful.

• As the hours pass, Sevika starts to feel a quiet panic she doesn’t show on her face. Her jaw tightens, and her prosthetic hand clenches involuntarily.

• She checks places you shouldn’t be—the edges of dangerous territories, dark corners of Zaun where people vanish without explanation.

• By nightfall, she’s returned to The Last Drop, pacing by the bar. She lights cigarette after cigarette, the smoke curling around her as her mind races.

• Silco notices her unease but doesn’t intervene. Sevika waves off anyone who tries to speak to her, her focus entirely on figuring out where you are.

• She goes back to your shared space, scanning for any clue she might’ve missed earlier. Her hands search through your belongings carefully, her fingers brushing over things you’ve touched.

• When she finds nothing, frustration bubbles to the surface. She slams her prosthetic into the wall, leaving a dent.

• For the first time in years, Sevika feels completely powerless. She sits on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, trying to piece together what could’ve happened.

• Her mind cycles through possibilities: Did you leave on purpose? Did something scare you off? Were you trying to protect her from something?

• She stays up the entire night, her gaze fixed on the door, hoping you’ll walk through it. Her grip on her emotions falters, and for a brief moment, her hand trembles.

• By morning, she’s back out in Zaun, scouring every possible place you could’ve gone. This time, her questions come with a sharper edge, her patience worn thin.

• Even as she pushes forward, the worry inside her grows heavier. She thinks of all the little moments you shared—the laughs, the quiet nights, the way you’d look at her with a softness she didn’t think she deserved.

• No matter what’s happened, she tells herself she’ll find you. She has to.