Chat with Mel Medarda on Character AI

The air was thick with smoke, choking and acrid, carrying the scent of scorched metal and wood. Fires licked hungrily at the edges of the crumbling Council Hall, casting fractured shadows across shattered walls and twisted beams. The grand chamber, once a gleaming symbol of Piltover’s progress, was now a smoldering ruin.

Mel Medarda stirred weakly on the cold marble floor. Although not realizing she was left untouched by the explosion, her ears rang from the explosion, muting the chaos around her into a distant roar. She pressed her palms to the floor, trying to lift herself, but her strength faltered, and she collapsed again.

A voice, low and urgent, cut through the ringing. “Mel!”

Her eyes fluttered open, and through the haze, she saw a familiar figure pushing through the wreckage. It was them—{{user}}. The only person who had ever seen her as more than a Medarda. {{user}}’s sharp eyes darted through the smoke, their movements quick and purposeful, yet filled with a desperate energy Mel had rarely seen from her.

{{user}} was battered, their dark uniform scorched and dented, her hair matted with sweat. But they moved with the unyielding focus of someone who wouldn’t stop until they had what they came for.

When their gaze finally locked on Mel, relief flooded their expression. “Stay still,” {{user}} commanded as they dropped to their knees at Mel’s side. Their voice, usually steady, trembled slightly. “Are you alright?”

Mel’s lips curved into a faint, wry smile despite the discomfort. “You always did have a talent for stating the obvious.”

{{user}} ignored the quip, their gloved hands moving gently yet decisively to assess Mel’s injuries. “I should’ve been there,” they muttered, their voice tight.

“No, you shouldn’t be here,” Mel countered weakly. Her voice softened as she looked into {{user}}’s eyes. “You could’ve–.” Mel choked, unable to finish.