Arcane: Ekko and Powder

The days that followed the unspoken shift between Ekko and Powder were filled with a strange sense of newness. The tension that had been building between them had evolved into something deeper, but neither of them was ready to confront it directly. Instead, they began to adjust to a new, uncharted rhythm—a shift that didn't quite feel like friendship anymore, but wasn't quite anything else either. There was an understanding between them now, a silent recognition that they were both feeling something more, though they still hadn't dared to put words to it.

They found themselves gravitating toward each other more often, spending time together in ways they hadn't before. There were fewer words spoken during their moments of silence, but they were comfortable in that silence. When Ekko would sit at his workbench, hunched over a new invention, Powder would often sit next to him, working on something of her own—small gadgets and tools she had started collecting, tinkering with them in a way that was far less chaotic than before. She worked with a steady focus, occasionally casting glances at Ekko, watching him with quiet admiration. And Ekko, in turn, found himself stealing glances at her, his heart skipping a beat when he caught sight of her intense concentration.

It was subtle at first—just the small changes in their routine. Ekko would find himself picking up an extra sandwich from the market, one for her. He had never thought much about it before, but lately, the thought of sharing meals together felt like the most natural thing in the world. When Powder would show up at his workshop, he'd always have something for her to nibble on, offering it to her with a casual smile, but secretly feeling his stomach flip when she'd accept with a grin of her own.

Their meals became something sacred. It wasn't about the food, really, though Zaun's streets hardly offered anything fancy. It was about the space they shared, the easy comfort that settled between them while they ate. It wasn't just a meal anymore; it was an exchange—one that carried the quiet intimacy of understanding. They didn't have to talk much, but the absence of words didn't feel heavy. In fact, it felt oddly freeing. The simplicity of it was what made it so profound. They didn't need to pretend, to fill the silence with empty chatter. They just were—together, in a way that felt right.

One evening, Ekko set up a small, makeshift table in the corner of his workshop, the flickering light of his work lamps casting warm shadows across the cluttered room. He'd spent most of the day fixing a broken part of an old machine, and when the work had finally been done, he felt a satisfaction that was only complete when Powder was there to share it with him. He'd taken to asking her to join him at these small moments of achievement, though he still didn't know why. Maybe it was because she was the one person who truly understood what these moments meant to him, even when the world outside of Zaun was too busy to notice.

Powder arrived as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the streets of Zaun into shadow. She had that familiar, wild energy about her, her hair slightly mussed and her expression one of quiet excitement. She'd always been a bit of a whirlwind, but today, there was a calmness to her—something softer that Ekko hadn't quite seen in her before.

"Got your favorite," Ekko said with a grin, lifting the small bag of food he'd managed to find from the market.

"You're the best," Powder replied, her face lighting up. The way she said it, like it was more than just a thank you, made Ekko's heart skip a beat.

They sat down together, picking at their food as they talked about their day. The conversation started out easy, casual. They spoke about small, inconsequential things—the things they had seen on the streets of Zaun, the latest invention Ekko had been working on, the little bits of chaos Powder had caused in the city. But as they ate and talked, the weight of the silence between them lessened. They were no longer just two friends passing time; they were sharing something deeper, something unspoken.

"So," Powder said after a long pause, her voice quieter than usual. She looked up from her food, her eyes meeting Ekko's. "What's the next big thing for you? Another gadget, maybe?"

Ekko hesitated, surprised by the question. It was an easy question, one he'd heard before, but something in the way she asked it felt different. She wasn't just asking out of curiosity—there was a real interest there. Something that made him want to answer honestly.

"I've been thinking about something bigger," he said, his voice a little uncertain. "Something that could change things for people in Zaun, you know? A way to improve life here. I've been trying to figure out how to make something that would bring power to the people who need it most, without relying on the big families."

Powder listened intently, her usual mischief replaced by something that resembled admiration. Ekko had never really opened up to anyone about his grander plans, about the things that kept him up at night, wondering if he could really make a difference. But with her, it felt different. She didn't look at him like he was just another dreamer. She looked at him like she believed in him.

"That sounds amazing," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "You're going to make it happen, right?"

Ekko met her gaze, and for a moment, he felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. With her words, he realized something that had been buried deep within him: he believed in himself more when she was around. She had always been his anchor, but now, more than ever, she was his motivation.

"I don't know," he admitted, his voice soft. "But I think... maybe with you by my side, we could make it happen."

Powder's eyes softened, and she smiled, a genuine warmth filling her gaze. "I'll always be by your side, Ekko. No matter what."

Her words settled over him like a blanket, and in that moment, Ekko knew it was more than just friendship. The bond they shared had become something deeper, something he couldn't ignore, even if he tried. And maybe, just maybe, Powder felt the same way.

They finished their meal, and as they cleaned up, the air between them felt lighter, more open. Powder helped Ekko organize his workbench, the way she always did, though there was a gentler touch to her movements today. Ekko couldn't help but watch her, his heart racing just a little faster with every glance. There was a quiet understanding between them now—an unspoken acknowledgment that what they had was no longer simple, but neither of them was ready to confront it.

It was during these quiet moments—when they were just two people working side by side—that Ekko felt a strange sense of peace. It wasn't the grand inventions or the big ideas that filled him with purpose, but the small things. The shared glances, the moments of silent connection, the times they simply existed together without needing to say anything at all.

And as the day drew to a close, and Powder prepared to leave, Ekko realized something else: he wasn't just looking forward to the next big project or the next adventure. He was looking forward to every moment he would spend with her. Whether it was working together, sharing a meal, or simply sitting in comfortable silence—those moments, no matter how small, were enough.

"See you tomorrow?" Powder asked, pausing at the door as she looked back at him, her expression softening.

"Of course," Ekko said with a grin. "Wouldn't dream of doing it without you."

Powder gave him a playful wink before disappearing into the streets of Zaun. Ekko watched her go, feeling a warmth in his chest that he hadn't felt in a long time. It was a warmth that came from knowing that no matter what happened, no matter how much things changed, they would always have each other.

And in that moment, he realized that whatever this new dynamic between them was, it wasn't something to fear. It was something to embrace.

For the first time in a long while, Ekko felt like he had found a place where he truly belonged.