Arcane: Ekko and Powder

In the days that followed their quiet confession, Ekko and Powder found themselves navigating the delicate balance of being in a relationship. There were no grand declarations or fireworks, no dramatic moments of clarity. Instead, it was a series of small, quiet shifts—a word here, a glance there, a shared silence that felt comfortable rather than awkward. Each new moment, though small, added to the foundation of their relationship. But beneath it all, the most important thing was growing: trust.

Powder's wild streak was something Ekko had always admired and feared in equal measure. She had a way of charging into trouble headfirst, a reckless abandon that had often gotten her into sticky situations. But now, with Ekko by her side, there was something softer in her—a hesitance before jumping into danger, a pause to check with him before making any impulsive decisions. It wasn't that she was losing her spark, but the wildness in her felt more tempered, more considerate. It was as if she was learning to share the reins of her own chaos with him.

One evening, they found themselves in one of their usual haunts—an old, crumbling warehouse just on the outskirts of Zaun. It was a place they'd discovered years ago, a forgotten relic of a time before the city was overtaken by industry and decay. They'd spent hours here as kids, fixing broken machinery, tinkering with anything they could get their hands on, and racing through the dimly lit spaces, laughing like they had all the time in the world. Now, they came here to work, to brainstorm, and to simply be in each other's company.

Ekko was bent over a workbench, tools scattered in front of him as he tried to fix an old power core he'd salvaged from a scrap heap. Powder, ever the impatient one, paced around the room, inspecting old machines, poking at dusty controls, and generally causing a mess as she always did.

"I swear, Powder, if you break something—" Ekko started, not looking up from his work.

"I'm just looking!" Powder shot back, rolling her eyes, though her voice held no malice. "It's not like anything in this place works anyway."

She moved to a corner of the warehouse, where an ancient generator sat. A flicker of interest sparked in her eyes as she crouched down to inspect the rusting machinery. Ekko sighed, setting down his tools. Powder's tendency to throw herself into situations with reckless abandon always made him nervous. She wasn't trying to get into trouble—at least not on purpose—but there were times when her impulsive nature led them both into precarious situations.

"Powder, please don't—" Ekko began, pushing himself up from his seat, but before he could finish, he saw her hands working at the control panel.

"Relax," Powder shot over her shoulder. "I know what I'm doing."

Ekko's heart skipped a beat. She was too close to the exposed wires. Too close to making a mistake that could lead to a serious accident. He moved toward her quickly, taking her hands in his before she could fiddle with anything more.

"Powder, you're going to get yourself shocked if you keep doing that," he said, his voice low but firm.

She looked at him, a little surprised, but not angry. "I can handle it, Ekko," she replied, but there was a softer edge to her voice now, a trace of vulnerability she didn't usually show when she was being reckless. She pulled her hands away from his but didn't move away from the generator.

Ekko stood there for a moment, taking in the look on her face. He could see the way her eyes flickered between determination and uncertainty. She had always thrown herself into danger without a second thought, but something was different now. She wasn't pushing him away; instead, she was testing his boundaries, his trust in her, just as he was testing his trust in her.

"I'm not saying you can't do it," Ekko said, his voice softening. "But I'm just asking that you let me help. You don't have to do everything on your own." He paused, searching for the right words. "I'm not going to leave you hanging. I'm not going anywhere."

There it was. His promise, clear and simple.

Powder's expression softened as she looked up at him. For a moment, she said nothing, simply meeting his gaze. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, she stepped back from the generator and allowed him to step forward. She didn't argue. She didn't try to take over. She just let him take the lead. And in that moment, Ekko realized that the wildness that had once defined her wasn't gone—it had just evolved into something else. Something that trusted him enough to let him help, to let him in.

As he worked on the generator, Powder sat down beside him, her hands tucked into her lap. She didn't say anything for a while, but Ekko could feel her presence beside him, grounding him, making the work feel easier. It wasn't just the machinery that he was fixing in that moment; it was their relationship, too. Each time they chose to trust each other, to lean on each other, they were building something stronger than either of them could have imagined.

"You're quieter than usual," Ekko remarked as he tightened the last bolt on the generator.

Powder tilted her head, watching him for a moment before responding. "Just thinking," she said, her voice softer than he was used to hearing. "About… things."

Ekko set the tools down, meeting her gaze. "What things?"

She shifted slightly, looking out at the dusty expanse of the warehouse, her thoughts clearly drifting to some distant place. "About how… I don't always have to do things alone. I mean, I used to think I was better off on my own. But… having you around, having you trust me—trust me enough to help—kind of makes me feel… less crazy, you know?"

Ekko smiled softly, his heart swelling at her words. "You're not crazy, Powder," he said gently. "But it's okay to need help sometimes. It doesn't make you weak. It makes you human."

Powder turned her head to meet his eyes, a spark of something—vulnerability, maybe, or hope—shining in them. She opened her mouth to speak, but then hesitated, unsure of how to articulate what she was feeling. Finally, she settled for a simple, "Thanks, Ekko."

The words were simple, but there was an honesty to them that made Ekko's chest tighten with warmth. This wasn't the same girl who had once dismissed everything as too small to care about. This was someone who was starting to see the value in the quiet moments, in the small acts of trust that built something bigger than either of them had ever known.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the hum of the repaired generator filling the space between them. It wasn't the loud, chaotic energy that often defined their adventures, but there was something peaceful about it, something grounding. For the first time in a long while, Ekko felt a sense of certainty. He knew they weren't perfect, and they would still stumble from time to time, but the foundation they were building was solid.

As the sun began to set outside, casting the warehouse in soft, golden light, Powder turned to him with a small, genuine smile. "So… what now?"

Ekko chuckled, feeling the warmth of her smile spread through him. "Now, we get back to work. Together."

And as they stood side by side, moving on to the next project, Ekko couldn't help but feel that the trust between them was growing, day by day, little by little. Powder's wild streak was still there—he could see it in the spark in her eyes, in the way she still charged headfirst into every new challenge. But now, it was tempered by something else: the steady presence of someone who had promised to be there through it all. Someone who would always help her up when she fell.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to build a future on.