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The Academy was awake long before the city finished its morning coffee.
Students crowded the halls carrying heavy prototypes beneath their arms. Heated debates about energy systems drifted from open lecture rooms. A group gathered around a hovering machine near the atrium while another crowded a display celebrating last year's scientific breakthroughs.
Innovation was impossible to escape here, even the walls seemed to celebrate achievement.
Bronze plaques honored inventors whose discoveries changed Piltover forever. Marble statues stood proudly in alcoves. Banners displaying award-winning research hung from the rafters.
The Academy was where Piltover fostered its finest.
The bright and brilliant all found their place within its halls.
As the City of Progress, Piltover invested heavily in those capable of changing the future.
That was the Academy's purpose.
The arts scene of Piltover was another question entirely.
While many sought after the Academy's praise, others found fulfillment in galleries and theaters instead of laboratories. They traded equations for emotion and blueprints for brushstrokes.
Piltover always made room for both.
Outside the Academy gates stood museum advertisements announcing upcoming exhibitions. Sculptures lined public squares. Art installations shared streets with hextech.
Progress and creativity had always existed side by side.
As the academy’s ornate glass elevator climbed, Caitlyn Kiramman watched students flood the corridors below.
Most visitors probably noticed the inventions first.
The Academy practically demanded it.
Hovering prototypes.
Mechanical assistants.
Experimental energy systems.
Caitlyn's attention lingered elsewhere.
On the sculpture standing in the central atrium.
A century-old marble piece depicting Piltover's founders.
Someone had recently restored it.
She could tell from the subtle differences in the stone.
Most people would've missed it.
Caitlyn smiled.
Some people studied machines.
She studied stories.
But for today, she was here to visit her infamous brother, Jayce Talis.
With a satisfied hum to herself, she checks her phone for a message from Jayce.
0 Messages from Jayce Talis.
He must be occupied with his students.
Years ago, her mother saw potential in a bright, ambitious student and offered to sponsor his education at Piltover’s academy of innovative brilliance. Safe to say, Cassandra Kiramman made the best investment. Jayce exceeded every expectation placed on his shoulders and earned many accolades in academia.
More importantly, Jayce became family.
Caitlyn found a brother in Jayce and a sister in her. Despite the age difference, the two were inseparable. The fact that they did not share the same genes had long since become irrelevant.
Nonetheless, both Cassandra and Tobias were relieved that Caitlyn trusted Jayce with her thoughts that she kept from everyone.
Jayce had been there for every milestone in Caitlyn’s life.
He witnessed each triumph and disaster. Even the ones she tried to hide for her parents.
He was there when she applied for Art History as her degree, even when Cassandra badly wanted her to study law.
When Caitlyn deemed him trustworthy enough, he became the first person to know that she liked women. He knew years before she even had the courage to tell her parents.
Caitlyn nearly pushed him into a garden fountain when he teased her about the muscular women he caught her staring at.
Her parents accepted her without hesitation when she eventually told them, but Jayce, her brother, had been the first.
He always seemed to be.
Except when he’s always late.
The elevator steadily climbed to the seventh floor. It dinged, signaling its arrival.
The doors opened once more and Caitlyn stepped out.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Whatever emergency his students concocted and dragged him away from their scheduled lunch, she suspected she would soon find out.
A metal screech echoed from the other side of the hallway had grabbed Caitlyn’s attention.
It was followed by the familiar voice of her brother.
Instinctively, she follows the noise.
A door stood between her and the noise. She softly taps her knuckles against the wood.
"Come in!" She hears the erratic voice of a student from inside.
She welcomes herself inside the laboratory only to see Jayce with two of his students surrounding a piece. One a short girl with her electric blue hair in space buns and the other with white dreadlocks. Jayce turns his body to the door. "Caitlyn!" He calls out with a smile.
"You’re late, Jayce." She said while shaking her head in amusement.
He chuckled, "I’m sorry, sprout. I got caught up with some things." "Oh where are my manners, sprout meet my best students! This is Powder and Ekko." Jayce introduced and gestured for each.
"Hiya!" Powder says with a wave and Ekko gives a respectful bow.
"It’s a pleasure to meet you both." Caitlyn replies.
"Powder was working on these mechanical flowers that bloom from sound. Check it out, sprout. It’s incredible." Jayce gives a nod to his students to set up the machine for demonstration.
Jayce immediately launched into an explanation involving sound receptors, coded responses, and a system of interconnected mechanisms.
Caitlyn barely heard a word of it. Her attention remained fixed on the flowers.
The metal garden sat motionless beneath the laboratory lights. Stainless steel lilies stood among silver reeds and iron lotus flowers, their petals folded inward as though asleep.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then Powder leaned down and whispered.
A soft chime answered her.
One lily slowly unfurled.
Then another.
Then three more unfolded their petals and opened.
The movement spread across the installation like a ripple traveling through water.
Each flower bloomed at its own pace.
Some curious.
Some hesitant.
Some eager for sunlight.
The laboratory fell silent as the soulful garden came alive.
"Jayce, this is… this is amazing." She said in awe.
"Right? Powder is very special."
Caitlyn understands him perfectly.
What makes this metal garden special isn’t the technology.
It’s the individuality of each flower. How some lilies act like shy flowers, the ones that take a couple of seconds before they blossom. Other lilies that resembled curious children, how they instantly turned towards voices. Powder personified each stem and programmed hundreds of different personalities for each flower.
Caitlyn understands what makes Powder different.
Most inventors built machines.
Powder built feelings.
The engineering was impressive, certainly.
Piltover produced brilliant engineers every year.
What Caitlyn found herself unable to ignore was the emotion.
Visitors wouldn't leave talking about gears and programming.
They would leave remembering how the flowers made them feel.
That was the difference.
That was art.
She can see why Jayce led her here.
"Right so, Powder, I wanted you to meet Caitlyn Kiramman. She's the top curator at the National Museum of Piltover. I believe she’s been looking for talents like yours."
"You built all this yourself?"
"Yeah, and the lilies built emotional trauma." Powder joked with a cheeky grin. Ekko stifled a face palm.
"Powder, you created something amazing. You brought this machine to life." Caitlyn says, still in awe of the display.
The other woman flashed her a toothy grin, "Really? You think so?" She turns back to her steel lilies, "This little baby took me hours of coding and cans of monster to make. They didn’t even look like flowers at first, more like bear traps." Powder explains jokingly.
Caitlyn looks at this young woman’s smile. Powder was smiling so brightly that Caitlyn thought she might burst. She turns to acknowledge the other student in the room, "What about you, Ekko? Anything you have on hand today?"
She watched as the young man turned to grab a skateboard without wheels? Caitlyn stares with interest.
Ekko lifts the board with ease, "This is a hoverboard with a highly advanced regenerative braking system." He explains.
Ekko activates the hoverboard and it whirs to life when its fans underneath start turning. Ekko’s hands let go of it and Caitlyn is shocked to see it float.
"What’s powering it?" She asks.
Ekko gave her an amused look.
"The sun."
"The sun?"
"And algae."
"Algae?" Caitlyn tilts her head in confusion.
"And momentum." Ekko finishes with a grin mirroring Powder’s.
"From my understanding, that’s not how power sources work, Ekko." Caitlyn says which earns a chuckle from Jayce.
"It does when I build them." Ekko says definitively.
"These are all amazing. Both of you, amazing. Very brilliant." Caitlyn said, mind still reeling from both pieces.
"I hope he taught you well." She adds jokingly and Jayce sends her a fake hurt look.
Now she understood why Jayce spoke so highly of them.
Ekko's brilliance felt immediately familiar.
His work represented everything Piltover celebrated.
Innovation.
Efficiency.
Possibility.
The sort of invention that would one day transform how people moved through the city.
Powder's work felt different.
No less impressive.
But different.
While Ekko imagined the future, Powder made people stop and feel something in the present.
One belonged naturally in the Academy.
The other belonged in a museum.
"I wanted you to meet them both, sprout. I believe you can give opportunities that the academy can’t offer them. As you can see, they’re both very special." Jayce stated with pride.
"And I know how you’ve been searching for new pieces for the upcoming exhibit. I believe that Powder can help you too." He continued.
The laboratory fell silent.
Powder looked up from her lilies. “Wait, what?”
Caitlyn stepped forward.
"I've spent months searching for artists capable of creating something people remember long after they've left the museum."
Her eyes drifted toward the mechanical garden.
The silver petals.
The curious lilies.
The flowers that seemed alive despite being made entirely of metal.
Caitlyn gives a nod, "How would you like to be part of something big? I have faith that you can be so much more."
Powder and Ekko exchanged wide-eyed looks.
"Oh?" Ekko repeated.
"Oh my god." Powder exclaimed breathlessly, her mouth hanging open like a hanger.
Caitlyn couldn't help smiling.
"I'd like to discuss featuring your installation in an upcoming exhibition at the National Museum."
Powder looked seconds away from passing out. Meanwhile, Ekko looked as though he was trying very hard not to laugh at her reaction.
Caitlyn reached into her bag and retrieved two calling cards.
One she handed to Powder. "For the exhibition."
Then she offered the second to Ekko.
"And for future opportunities."
Ekko accepted it with visible surprise.
"You're both incredibly talented. I'd like to stay in contact."
"You two can get going now, Powder, Ekko." Jayce starts, "I believe we’re due for lunch, sprout?"
Caitlyn chuckles with a shake of her head, "I thought you’d never ask, Professor Talis. Have a good day, both of you."
Caitlyn and Jayce leave the two students and laboratory behind them. Their shoes clack on the concrete floors. As soon as the door clicks shut and they are out of earshot, Powder and Ekko begin their celebration.
"Oh my god, did that just really happen?" Powder exclaimed, her hands covering her mouth in shock.
She turned to look at Ekko who was staring at the wall with his mouth hanging open.
The boy was still standing exactly where Caitlyn and Jayce had left them.
"I have no idea what just happened." He said.
"Ekko, we have to tell Vi.”She grabbed his wrist giddily.
“We have to go home right now." Powder says with excitement in every word.
The pair practically sprinted out of the laboratory.
Behind them, the Academy continued as though nothing extraordinary had happened.
Students hurried between lectures.
Machines whirred behind glass walls.
Somewhere nearby, a professor launched into an impassioned argument about energy efficiency. The Academy never stopped moving. Never stopped creating. Never stopped searching for the next breakthrough.
Today, however, Powder felt like she was carrying one home with her.
"She's gonna be so happy, Ekko." Her voice cracked slightly around the words.
Excitement.
Disbelief.
All tangled together.
"I know she will."
Because if anyone understood what this opportunity meant, it was Vi.
The doors of the workshop stood open.
Light spread on the street from the sparks of welding torches inside.
Unlike the Academy's pristine laboratories, this place had never cared much for appearances.
Its walls carried years of repairs.
The concrete floors bore scorch marks from projects long completed.
Every available surface seemed occupied by something unfinished.
A machine waiting for parts.
A blueprint waiting for revisions.
A commission waiting for delivery.
The workshop was organized chaos.
At least to outsiders.
Vi was hunched over pieces, the welding torch in hand, mending them together.
To Vi, every tool had a place.
Half-finished commissions occupied every available surface. Sheets of steel leaned against the walls. Blueprints were pinned wherever there was empty space. Somewhere in the back, a radio crackled beneath the noise of machinery.
Every stack of metal made sense.
Every scribbled note pinned to the wall belonged exactly where it was.
This place had fed them.
Sheltered them.
Raised them.
Long before anyone important knew Powder's name.
Long before museum curators started handing out business cards.
This workshop had believed in her first.
Vi pulled away from the weld and flipped up her visor.
The seam looked good.
Not perfect.
Good enough.
She reached for a grinder to smooth things out.
Erratic footsteps destroyed her quiet.
It came with the voice of Powder, "Vi! You wouldn’t guess what happened!"
There were exactly three reasons Powder ever yelled her name like that.
Something had exploded.
Something was on fire.
Or something had gone very, very right.
Vi breathes a sigh and puts down the grinder.
This commission can wait.
She turns to face her sister and Ekko, both clearly vibrating with excitement.
"What’s all this about? Did something explode?"
Judging by the grin on Powder's face, it was the third.
"Tell her." Ekko says, bumping his shoulder with hers.
"No, you tell her." Powder argued back with her tongue out.
"You already told everyone else!" He exclaimed.
Powder digs into the pocket of her overalls. A small card with gold embroidery emerged. She holds it with both hands for her sister to see.
Vi stared at the card.
Gold lettering on expensive paper and the Piltover National Museum seal embossed into the corner.
This wasn't some local gallery or a simple community showcase.
This was real.
The kind of opportunity people waited years for. It was the kind of opportunity Powder deserved.
Slowly, a grin spread across her face.
"Holy shit."
Powder bounced on her heels.
Vi looked between her and Ekko.
Then back at the card.
"You actually did it."
Then she broke into a smile.
A real one.
The kind she saved for moments like this.
She grabs both of their shoulders in a tight hug.
"I’m so proud of you." She whispers into one of their heads.
"Thanks, sis. Couldn’t have done this without ya." Powder says, burying her head deeper into her sister’s arms.
Vi releases them both from her grasp.
"Tell me everything."
"Well, she’s a friend of Professor Talis," Ekko begins. "She came into the lab and he just asked us to do a demo." He explains.
"Right, right. I did my flowers and he showed her his hoverboard. She was blown away, Vi!" Powder said giddily. Powder looked seconds away from launching herself across the workshop in her blue boots.
Vi opened her arms again.
The hug hit with enough force to nearly knock her backward.
She reaches to ruffle her hair affectionately.
"There she is," Vi laughed. "There's my genius."
Powder beamed with stars in her eyes.
Ekko rolled his eyes.
"You know she's going to become impossible to live with now." He says.
"I already am," Powder informed him.
"You absolutely are." Vi responds.
For the next ten minutes, Powder talked.
And talked.
And talked.
About the lilies.
About the curator.
About the exhibit she wants to do.
Vi listened to every word that came out of her mouth.
She knew Powder spent years without getting the proper recognition for her work.
Now, someone saw her talent. Someone that can take her potential to different places.
It felt good.
It felt more than good.
Powder deserved the best.
Vi couldn’t be happier for her little sister.
The vibration of her phone interrupted Powder midway through explaining her plans, a future installation involving floating lanterns and mechanical koi fish.
Vi glanced down.
It was an unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
Then a second message appeared.
Hello, Ms. Vi. This is Caitlyn Kiramman. I'd like to discuss the exhibition contract with you.
Jayce informed me you're handling project coordination for Powder and Ekko's team.
"Powder, what did you do this time?" Vi says impatiently.
Powder lets out a sheepish laugh. Like a child caught sneaking a second treat.
"What do you mean, sis?"
Vi stares at her.
She hands the phone to Powder.
She exclaims in shock, "Oh my god! She wants to meet with you."
"To discuss the logistics of your project."
"Same thing, sis."
"No." Vi refused.
"Oh my god."
"No." She repeated.
"Pretty please, sis. You know you’re better at this." Powder begged with her hands clasped together.
Ekko snorted in amusement.
"Good luck." He said.
Vi squints her eyes and points a finger at him, "Don’t even start."
Three days passed in a blur of steel, sawdust, and unanswered emails from the museum.
Powder disappeared into her workshop for hours at a time, emerging only to announce impossible changes to designs that had already been approved.
Vi spent most of those three days putting out fires.
By the morning of the meeting, she was running on too little sleep, too much coffee, and a growing suspicion that agreeing to this exhibition had been a mistake.
Then she stepped into the museum conference room.
And immediately decided she had been right about the curator.
The woman waiting inside looked exactly how Vi imagined Piltover's curators looked.
Perfect posture.
Perfectly tailored suit.
Perfect hair.
The kind of person who probably had opinions about the proper way to fold napkins and set tables.
A woman who had likely never worried about rent or car loans.
Never spent sixteen hours welding metal only to wake up and do it again the next day.
Caitlyn Kiramman stood in greeting as she entered.
"Ms. Vi, it’s a pleasure to meet you." She says with her hand outstretched.
Her voice was polite, warm with a touch of sharpness to it.
The kind of voice that belonged to people accustomed to being listened to.
"Just Vi is fine." Vi takes her dainty hand to firmly shake.
A little firmer than necessary.
"Of course, Vi."
Neither of them pull out a chair.
For a moment, they simply looked at one another.
Scanning.
Looking for clues.
Caitlyn noticed the grease stains lingering along Vi's sleeves despite her obvious attempts to scrub them clean. Faint burn marks dotted her knuckles. A small scar crossed one eyebrow.
A builder.
Someone who spent more time creating things than knowing or talking about them.
Vi saw a woman who looked like she'd never held a wrench in her life.
The polished shoes and expensive jade bangle.
Everything about Caitlyn Kiramman screamed Piltover. Not the real Piltover that breathed with life and diversity but the wealthy Piltover.
The one perched on hillsides overlooking the rest of the city.
Both made assumptions.
Neither assumption was entirely correct.
"This exhibit," Caitlyn began as they finally took their seats, "is one of the most ambitious projects the museum has undertaken in years. We want to ensure everything proceeds according to schedule."
Vi resisted the urge to sigh.
“We’ll do our best.”
Caitlyn opened a manila folder. Several pages of notes sat neatly organized. Color coded and organized alphabetically.
“Of course they were,” Vi thought.
"We'll need final specifications by Friday." She discussed it without even looking up.
"No." Vi’s answer came immediately.
Caitlyn blinked in confusion.
"No?"
"Not happening." Vi waved her hands.
A crease appeared between Caitlyn’s brows. "May I ask why?" She prodded.
"Because Powder changes things."
"Changes things?"
"Constantly."
Caitlyn stared.
Vi stared back.
"The exhibit opens in four months."
"Exactly."
"I'm not sure I understand."
Vi leaned back in her chair.
"Then you've never worked with artists." She stated as if it wasn’t Caitlyn’s job to organize Piltover’s national museum.
Something that resembled annoyance flickered across Caitlyn's face.
Good.
At least they were being honest now.
"I've worked with artists my entire career." Caitlyn resisted the urge to narrow her eyes.
"Then you should know deadlines are more like suggestions." Vi shook her head carelessly.
"They are absolutely not suggestions."
Vi barked out a laugh. The sound echoed briefly through the room. "See? That's what I'm talking about."
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"
Vi gestured vaguely toward the museum around them. "This place."
"This place?" Caitlyn's posture straightened.
"The schedules. The meetings. The paperwork."
"The museum requires organization." Caitlyn explained.
"The museum requires too much organization." Vi countered.
A dangerous silence followed.
Caitlyn folded her hands together, the way people did when they were trying very hard not to lose their temper.. At times like these, she prayed for patience.
"Organization is how projects of this scale succeed."
"No." The other woman retorted.
"People are how projects succeed." Vi corrected.
The curator's jaw tightened, her folded hands turning white. "We simply want to ensure your sister can meet museum standards."
The moment the words left her mouth, Vi's expression hardened immediately.
Caitlyn noticed too late.
"Powder's work got her here." Vi started.
The room felt colder somehow.
"Not museum standards." She finished.
For the first time, Caitlyn looked genuinely caught off guard.
"I didn't mean—"
"I know exactly what you meant." Vi interrupted with narrowed eyes.
"No." Caitlyn's voice sharpened. "You don't."
The response surprised both of them.
For a brief moment, neither spoke.
Then Caitlyn exhaled slowly. Each display of irritation was measured and controlled.
"The reason I fought for this exhibition is because your sister's work deserves to be seen." She explained.
Vi hesitated.
The conviction in Caitlyn's voice sounded real.
Annoyingly real.
But she wasn't ready to give ground yet.
"You curators always think you know what's best." Vi insisted forcibly.
"There it is." A flash of irritation crossed Caitlyn's face.
"What?"
"The assumption."
Vi frowned.
"What assumption?"
"That because I work in a museum, I couldn't possibly understand artists." Caitlyn’s words landed harder than expected. "You don't know anything about me." Caitlyn added icily.
Vi opened her mouth.
Then closed it again.
Because unfortunately, she had a point. Which only made her more irritating.
The meeting continued for another hour. The discussion about budgets, shipping schedules, installation requirements. Every conversation somehow became an argument. And every argument somehow ended with both of them being correct.
By the time the meeting concluded, Vi had developed a headache.
Caitlyn looked equally exhausted.
"I'll be visiting the workshop periodically for updates."
"You don't have to."
"It's my job." Caitlyn clarified. She released her folded hands from their prison.
"You can just call."
"And if I have questions?"
"Call twice." Vi ribbed.
A muscle twitched in Caitlyn's jaw.
Vi almost smiled at the sight.
"I'll contact your team soon." The other woman directed.
"Sure."
Caitlyn gathered her papers.
Vi stood.
For a moment, neither moved toward the door.
Neither seemed particularly eager to offer a polite farewell.
Finally, Vi broke eye contact first.
"See you around, Curator."
Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. "Have a good day, Vi."
The way she said her name somehow sounded like a challenge.
Vi left the conference room shaking her head.
Impossible.
Completely impossible.
Yet as she walked down the museum corridor, one thought continued to bother her.
For someone born into privilege, Caitlyn had argued surprisingly hard for Powder's budget.
Meanwhile, Caitlyn watched the conference room door close behind her.
Vi was Stubborn.
Exhausting.
Infuriating.
Yet somehow every practical solution Vi proposed had been correct.
Which was arguably worse.
Caitlyn clicks her tongue and grabs her phone. She dials Jayce’s number and he picks up immediately.
"Hey sprout, what’s going on?"
"Powder’s team. That woman is incorrigible. She’s hard to work with, Jayce!"
"Her sister, Vi?"
"Who else?"
"I’ve met her before. She’s quite friendly, Cait. She’s warm too."
"Who comes to a meeting with grease stains on her sleeves?"
"Sprout, maybe you got off on the wrong foot—"
"No, I did not. She was hostile too. She clearly did not understand what this exhibit means to the museum. I mean, she came into the conference room in a barely buttoned shirt. She was clearly unprepared and didn't care enough to present herself properly." Caitlyn huffed.
Jayce laughs on the other end.
"This is not funny, Jayce Talis."
"It is to me. Besides, it’s only the first meeting. She’s nice and she supports her sister wholeheartedly."
"I don’t wish to meet her ever again."
"No you don’t."
"I’m hanging up now."
Caitlyn ends the call with Jayce laughing at the other end.
She sighed at the thought of future meetings.
The museum felt different now, during closing hours.
Quieter but not empty.
Never empty.
Art had a way of making spaces feel inhabited long after people left.
The last visitors had departed nearly an hour ago and most of the staff had gone home. Security guards wandered the halls in slow circuits while maintenance crews prepared galleries for the following morning.
However, Caitlyn remained.
A familiar habit of hers. Whenever something bothered her, she walked. The museum was the only place that consistently helped her think.
Her heels echoed softly across polished marble floors.
One gallery gave way to another.
Paintings.
Sculptures.
Historical artifacts.
Centuries of humanity arranged carefully beneath one roof.
Usually the sight settled her thoughts but tonight it wasn't working.
Because she kept thinking about Vi.
Not the woman herself.
The conversation.
The irritation.
The infuriating certainty in her voice.
“This exhibit means a great deal to the museum.”
“This exhibit means a great deal to my sister.”
Caitlyn sighed.
The exchange replayed for what felt like the hundredth time.
At first she assumed Vi simply didn't understand.
Many builders and inventors viewed museums with suspicion. They imagined curators sitting in offices, ordering artists around, deciding the value of work they could never create with their own hands. Caitlyn was used to that, it rarely bothered her.
So why had this meeting lingered?
Why couldn’t she let it go?
The sounds of her heels came to a stop and the answer arrived almost immediately. Part of her agreed with Vi and that realization was irritating and deeply inconvenient.
Caitlyn stopped beside a sculpture occupying the center of the gallery. The bronze figure stood with one hand extended toward the ceiling, its creator long dead but a masterpiece admired by thousands.
Visitors read the plaque, learn the sculptor's name and discuss the technique.
The legacy.
The artistry.
Almost nobody talked about the people who helped make it possible. The apprentices, patrons, the workers who transported materials.
The people behind the scenes.
They remained invisible and forgotten with time.
Vi had spoken about Powder's exhibit like it belonged to people.
Caitlyn had spoken about it like it belonged to institutions.
That was the difference.
And she hated how quickly she'd recognized it.
A faint laugh escaped her, the sound echoed softly through the empty gallery. "You're annoyingly insightful." She said to the bronze figure.
The sculpture offered no response which was probably for the best.
Caitlyn resumed walking. The modern art wing waited ahead, one of her favorite sections of the museum.
Not because it was fashionable.
Because it was alive.
While most historical galleries preserved stories, modern galleries created them. The artists were still here, still changing and still discovering.
That mattered a lot to Caitlyn.
She stepped inside one of the unfinished exhibition halls, the room remained mostly empty. Temporary walls had been erected for upcoming installations. Lighting plans sat clipped to easels. Crates lined one side of the room waiting to be unpacked.
This space would eventually become Powder's exhibit.
For now it existed only as a possibility.
Caitlyn moved toward the center, imagining the flowers Powder created. She imagined mechanical birds, ornate pathways, the sound that resembled the voices of an enchanted garden.
The wonder.
A small smile appeared despite herself.
She remembered the first time she'd seen Powder's work. How the flowers opened beneath whispered words, the individuality hidden within every movement.
Anyone could build something impressive, very few people built something meaningful.
That distinction mattered more than most realized.
Her gaze drifted toward the unfinished ceiling, toward the empty space waiting to become something beautiful.
Years ago, when she'd chosen Art History instead of law, her mother hadn't understood. Cassandra Kiramman respected the arts. She supported them, funded them but she viewed museums as cultural institutions.
Caitlyn viewed them differently. To her, museums were conversations between the past and the present. Between the creator and his audience.
Between people who would never meet.
Art connected strangers.
That was its purpose.
Not prestige.
Not politics.
Connection.
Which was precisely why she hated seeing art reduced to social currency.
The number of times she'd watched brilliant artists overlooked because they lacked connections. The number of times she'd watched mediocre work receive attention because the creator knew the right people. The number of exhibitions influenced by donors who cared more about appearances than substance.
It exhausted her every single time.
Perhaps that was why Powder mattered so much.
Powder wasn't established.
She wasn't famous.
She wasn't influential.
She was simply good. Extraordinary, actually.
Her work deserved to be seen and that alone should be enough.
Caitlyn had spent her entire career believing that merit mattered, that quality mattered, as well as the work itself.
Yet Vi’s words kept returning.
People are how projects succeed.
And the frustrating thing was that Vi wasn’t wrong. Powder’s flowers didn’t exist because of her talent alone. Someone taught her, supported her and believed in her dreams. An entire community stood behind every piece.
Caitlyn knew this.
But she'd never considered it from that angle before.
The exhibit wasn't merely showcasing Powder's achievements. It was showcasing years of effort from everyone who helped her reach this point.
The thought lingered, both comfortably and uncomfortably.
For a moment, Caitlyn pictured the workshop, Powder’s support system.
The grease stains that she found on Vi’s sleeves and the calluses on her hands. The way she’d spoken about the project.
Protective.
Proud.
Not because she wanted recognition but because she wanted Powder to have it.
That mere distinction mattered. Most people fought for themselves and their own regalia, Vi seemed content fighting for everyone else.
A curious woman.
A frustrating woman.
A woman who clearly thought Caitlyn represented everything wrong with Piltover institutions. That thought bothered her more than expected.
Because it wasn't entirely fair and she suddenly wanted to prove otherwise.
The realization surprised her.
Not impress her or win her approval.
Just to prove that she cared for the same reasons.
The museum lights dimmed slightly as the evening timer shifted into overnight settings. Golden illumination softened across the room, the unfinished gallery glowed in possibility.
For a moment, Caitlyn could almost see it, the completed exhibit. Visitors standing beneath mechanical flowers, children staring upward in wonder. Artists feeling understood, inventors feeling seen. People connecting through the shared wonder of seeing beauty.
Exactly as art was meant to do.
A quiet sense of certainty settled in her chest.
The meeting had gone poorly.
Tomorrow would likely go poorly too.
Vi seemed determined to challenge every assumption she held and Caitlyn suspected she would challenge several of Vi's in return.
Still.
The exhibit was worth it.
Powder was worth it.
And perhaps understanding the people behind the work was worth it as well.
Caitlyn glanced once more around the empty gallery then collected her coat.
Tomorrow she would visit the workshop. Officially, to discuss logistics. Unofficially because she had the growing suspicion that there was far more to Powder's story than flowers and machinery.
And somehow, she suspected the answer began with Vi.
The next morning, Caitlyn found herself standing outside a workshop tucked between a machine shop and this dive bar called The Last Drop.
Weird place to start a workshop.
The building itself was unremarkable.
The crate of spare parts labeled ‘SALE’ was not anything special.
The noise inside was not.
Metal clanged against metal.
Someone cursed.
A machine whirred to life.
Then came the unmistakable hiss of a welding torch.
Caitlyn stepped inside.
The workshop looked as though a tornado had swept through it. Blueprints covered every available wall and surface. Half-finished commissions occupied workbenches. Tools hung from walls in careful organization that somehow still felt chaotic.
In the middle of it all stood Vi.
Sleeves rolled up and greased all the way to her forearms. A welding visor that sat atop her head as she was hunched over a metal frame, completely absorbed in her work.
For a moment, Caitlyn just observed.
The woman looked like she built half of this workshop herself.
Perhaps she did.
She watched as Vi reached for a wrench without even looking.
She adjusted bolts and examined her work. Once done, she hummed in satisfaction.
There was something infuriatingly attractive about competence. Especially when Vi’s competence looked effortless.
As though she sensed the presence of a voyeur, Vi glanced up.
Their eyes met instantly.
"You’re early."
No greeting.
Absolutely no formality.
Caitlyn resisted the urge to narrow her eyes.
"Sorry, I wasn’t aware that there was a preferred window of arrival."
Vi snorted in amusement. The mere sound startled Caitlyn.
"You want coffee?" Vi offered.
Caitlyn blinked at the abrupt offer.
"Yes, thank you."
Vi crossed the workshop and grabbed a clean, metal mug from a counter.
Then she poured coffee from an industrial-looking pot that was probably older than them both.
Caitlyn accepts the mug with a quiet hum.
The coffee was black.
Entirely black.
No cream or sugar.
Absolutely no mercy.
It tasted like regret.
Her face twisted in disgust.
Vi watched her carefully.
Waiting.
"Well?" She asked.
Caitlyn swallows in one gulp, her face souring from the bitter taste of strong caffeine.
"It’s certainly coffee."
Vi narrowed her eyes.
"That’s not an answer."
"I’m choosing diplomacy."
A grin finds its way in Vi’s mouth.
"Rich people." She remarks with false amusement.
"I beg your pardon?" Caitlyn said with furrowed brows.
"You all drink coffee that tastes like pure sugar and call this a crime."
"That is not coffee. That is a workplace hazard."
Vi barked out a laugh.
Without thinking, Caitlyn smiled.
Neither of them looked away.
Then Vi cleared her throat.
"So," She started and gestured toward the workshop around them. "You wanted a progress report?"
"Well, yes." Caitlyn says with her hands on her hips.
Vi leads her to the blueprints.
"It's your museum."
"Our museum, technically."
Vi raised an eyebrow.
"Already claiming ownership?"
A hint of a smile tugged at Caitlyn's lips.
The woman was impossible.
"How are they progressing?"
Vi leans back against a workbench.
"It’s better than expected." Vi says, taking a sip of her coffee.
"That’s encouraging to hear."
"It really isn’t."
"It’s not?" Caitlyn asked in confusion.
Vi shrugged, clearly used to this.
"Whenever Powder says something is going smoothly, I immediately assume something is about to explode." She explained with hand gestures.
"Explode?"
"Methaphorically explode."
Caitlyn tilts her head, still confused.
Vi noticed and laughed at her mannerisms.
"They usually don’t." Caitlyn’s eyes widened at the revelation which earned a cackle from Vi.
Caitlyn immediately sat a little straighter. She remembers her fondness for the demonstration Powder gave her days ago.
"The prototypes I saw at the Academy were remarkable. I mean, I’ve never seen anything like those. Powder is beyond remarkable. Both of them."
Something softened in Vi's expression.
Pride.
Only for a moment.
"Yeah. They’re both really great, aren’t they?"
Caitlyn nodded in response.
"You seem very proud of her, your sister."
Vi looked at her as though she'd asked whether water was wet, "Of course I'm proud of her."
The answer came without hesitation.
Without a single thought.
As though there had never been another option.
Powder has never failed to make her swell up with pride.
"Powder has always had this talent. Even when we were kids."
"How so?"
"When most kids build toys," She begins. "Our powder created the machines that created the toys." Vi finished with a smile.
Caitlyn nods in approval, "That’s a very interesting childhood indeed."
She imagined a young Powder surrounded by gears and knots. How a young Powder knew how to use screwdrivers and tighten knots. She imagined a young Powder already inventing, already creating.
And with a big sister that supported her every dream.
"She deserves this opportunity. Both her and Ekko." The words slipped out of Caitlyn’s mouth without her noticing.
Vi’s head perked up in surprise but she smiled.
Finally, there’s someone else in this world that sees their potential.
That sees her Powder’s potential.
For the first time since they'd met, Vi studied her carefully.
Not as a curator. Not as Caitlyn Kiramman.
Not even as a client.
As a person. Just Caitlyn.
"That's why you wanted the exhibit, isn't it? You saw what we all see when they create, when Powder creates."
Caitlyn glanced at one of the windows of the workshop.
"I did and I do. I’ve seen many exhibits and installations from all over Runeterra, I’ve curated many myself for the people of Piltover to see. There is no one out there that is even similar to what Powder can do. Jayce saw it for himself and wanted me to see too."
Caitlyn thought about the metal lilies unfolding beneath the Academy lights.
The way they seemed to breathe.
The way visitors had stopped talking just to watch them move.
The feeling she'd had standing in that room.
"During my years of studying Art History and working for the museum, I’ve learned one thing every piece must have before I curate it." Caitlyn discussed.
"And that is?"
"You have to feel something." She explained.
She turned to stare directly into powder blue eyes.
"Every piece must derive a feeling, a meaning."
"You sound like Powder." Vi said.
"I’ll take that as a compliment."
"It is. You should."
For a moment, the tension between them eased.
Vi left briefly and returned carrying a metal housing nearly the size of a suitcase. She dropped it onto a nearby workbench with a heavy clang.
"What is that?" Caitlyn asked.
"Broken."
"That doesn't answer the question."
"It answers the important part."
Caitlyn watched as Vi reached for a wrench.
The machine looked hopelessly complicated. Panels had been removed from one side, exposing belts, gears, wiring, and mechanisms she couldn't begin to identify.
Vi, however, barely hesitated. She opened the housing completely and leaned over it. Almost immediately her hands disappeared into the machinery.
A bolt loosened.
A gear shifted.
Something clicked.
The movements were quick.
As though she'd done this a thousand times before.
Perhaps she had.
"You know exactly what you're doing."
Vi snorted. "Most of the time."
"That wasn't what I asked." The answer earned her a grin.
Without looking up, Vi continued working.
The workshop lights reflected against the metal beneath her hands. Grease stained her fingers. A pencil rested behind one ear while another sat forgotten atop the workbench. She looked entirely at home surrounded by machinery.
Like the workshop had built itself around her.
Caitlyn found herself watching longer than intended.
Vi moved with certainty.
There was no second-guessing, no hesitation. She trusted her own knowledge completely.
A trait Caitlyn respected immensely.
The machine suddenly sputtered then roared back to life.
Vi nodded in satisfaction. "There."
"That was impressive." Vi shrugged, the compliment slid off her shoulders effortlessly.
Most inventors Caitlyn encountered practically glowed with pride when praised. Vi reacted as though she’d be told the weather was pleasant.
Before Caitlyn could comment further, Vi moved to another table, this one covered in dozens of blueprints. Sheets overlapped one another in organized stacks and spreads. Some sheets depicted supporting structures for Powder’s exhibit, others appeared to be unrelated projects. Mechanical joints, load calculations and framework designs were etched in pages.
Caitlyn stepped closer and the more she looked, the more details emerged.
Measurements.
Material notes and weight estimates.
Corrections written into the margins of blueprints.
The drawings weren’t just rough concepts, they appeared to be construction ready.
“You drafted these?” Caitlyn asked.
Vi glanced over, “Oh.” She paused. “Most of them, yeah.”
Caitlyn looked back down.
The support structure for one of Powder's hanging flower installations occupied nearly two full pages. Every connection had been mapped, every stress point accounted for. It was excellent work.
"You designed the suspension system?"
"Yeah."
"The rotating platforms?"
"Those too."
"The lighting supports?"
Vi finally looked suspicious. "Why do you sound surprised?"
Because she was surprised. Not because she thought Vi incapable, nobody had mentioned any of this!
Every conversation centered around Powder, her flowers, and the exhibit.
Meanwhile, an entire section of the project existed because Vi quietly made impossible ideas possible. Apparently nobody thought that was worth mentioning.
"How did you learn all this?" The question left her mouth before she could stop it.
The workshop suddenly felt quieter.
A memory crossed her face.
"Vander."
The name was unfamiliar yet the affection wasn't. Caitlyn recognized it instantly.
“He taught you engineering?”
Vi laughed, “He taught me how not to blow my hand off.”
“An important distinction.” Caitlyn nodded in teasing agreement.
“Very important.” A smile lingered on Vi’s face.
“He owns the dive bar next door,” Vi paused, her gaze turned to a window. “Whenever stuff broke, he fixed it. Eventually, we learned how to.” She explained.
“We didn’t exactly have the option of replacing things.” Vi’s statement landed quietly. “If a machine stopped working, you figured it out.”
She picked up a ruler, turning it absentmindedly between her fingers. "If something needed building, you learned."
“What if nobody knew how?” Caitlyn wondered out loud.
Vi’s expression turned mischievous, “Then we got creative.”
Caitlyn laughed softly.
She could imagine that very easily.
The realization settled somewhere unexpected.
Vi had never attended the Academy. Never studied beneath renowned professors. Never had access to expensive laboratories or specialized programs. And yet she looked around the workshop at the machines, the blueprints, the structures she designed, the problems she solved. All of it built through experience, necessity, persistence.
The Academy would have celebrated someone like her. Probably awarded her. Probably recruited her.
Instead, she'd learned because survival demanded it.
Caitlyn found herself strangely unsettled by that thought. Not because it was unfair, though it was. Because Vi spoke about it as though it were entirely ordinary. As though anyone could do what she'd done. As though years of skill were nothing remarkable.
"You would've done well at the Academy." The words escaped before she considered them.
Vi blinked, clearly caught off guard.
A strange silence followed.
Then Vi looked away first, toward the blueprints, toward anything else. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Yeah?"
The single word sounded quieter than usual.
Caitlyn nodded without hesitation.
"Yes."
Vi stared down at the drafting table, studying measurements she already knew by heart. And for reasons Caitlyn couldn't quite explain, the compliment seemed to affect her more than any praise she'd received all afternoon.
The realization lingered long after the conversation moved on. Long after Powder returned with another impossible idea. Long after Caitlyn stopped looking at the blueprints.
Because she found herself looking at Vi differently now.
Not as Powder's coordinator.
Not as the stubborn woman who challenged everything she said.
But as someone extraordinary.
Someone who had built herself from scraps, determination, and necessity.
And somehow never thought to take credit for it.
The next morning, Caitlyn returns to the workshop while handling a carrier of take out coffee. Yesterday’s coffee from Vi really concerned her about caffeine consumption.
They’ve practically inhaled coffee beans themselves with that sort of consumption!
If Vi and the others drank cups of those daily, it’s certainly a matter to be concerned about.
The workshop was already busy when Caitlyn arrived. Morning sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting long shadows across workbenches cluttered with tools, blueprints, and half-finished commissions. The familiar smell of machine oil lingered in the air, accompanied by the steady hum of machinery operating somewhere deeper in the building. Caitlyn lets herself in without knocking.
She walks in to see two young men that she remembers are Milo and Claggor arguing animatedly.
"I told you Vi put me in charge!"
"No she didn’t! You just wanna take charge of the pretty ladies at the store next door!"
The two bickered like stubborn children.
Pushing at the other’s face with all their might. Caitlyn smiles in amusement.
"Hello." She said, getting their attention.
The two turned their heads to the sudden intruder. They instantly straightened up when they realized they were being watched acting like stubborn toddlers.
"Miss Caitlyn! Vi isn’t here, she left to run errands for Vander." Claggor states with a shy smile.
Milo nodded in unison, "She put me in charge for the meantime, Miss Caitlyn. Whatever you want to ask here, you can ask me." He said with a cheeky grin.
Claggor hits him at the back of the head. "No, she didn’t!"
"Oh yes, she did!" The two bickered back and forth.
Caitlyn stands by the door, unsure of what to do. As an only child, she’s never had to deal with bickering siblings. She’s never had one to even argue with.
Milo and Claggor continued their animated spouting of insults until the backdoor of the workshop opened.
Vi walks in with a brown bag. Pissed at seeing her two brothers argue.
"Break it up, you little shits! I’ve had enough of your pissing pot in the workshop. Work through your shit." Vi pulled the two men apart. "Work it out."
Vi was seething with irritation.
She noticed Caitlyn who has been standing at the door. She suddenly flushes in embarrassment.
"Sorry you had to see that, you know how it is with siblings." Vi said with a short laugh.
"No, actually, I don’t." Caitlyn joked.
"Really?"
"Yes, I’ve never had a brother nor a sister. Frankly, I think your family dynamic is endearing."
Vi huffed out a laugh.
"Endearing isn't usually the word people use."
"What do they use?"
"Chaotic? Loud?"
Caitlyn smiled into her coffee. "That too."
Vi shook her head, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Well, thanks."
"I think what you have with Powder is lovely." Caitlyn said softly. "You both seem well connected."
"She’d be insufferable if she ever heard you say that." Vi joked with a fake sigh.
"Then, it’s a blessing she’s not here."
"Speaking of," Vi nodded towards the empty side of the workshop, at Powder’s and Ekko’s vacant work stations. "Why are you here? You didn’t mention a visit and they’re both at the lab."
Caitlyn lifts the carrier of coffee.
"I came to save you from whatever industrial liquid you were drinking yesterday."
Vi opened her mouth in surprise, genuinely offended.
"That was coffee."
Caitlyn shrugged, "Debatable."
Vi scoffed and snatched one of the cups from the carrier. The cardboard tray bent slightly beneath the shift in weight. She eyed the café logo printed neatly on the side before peeling back the lid.
"This is expensive." She stated, pointing at the cup’s logo.
"It’s coffee," Caitlyn started, "From the looks of it, you liked it." She said with a sign-song voice.
Vi ignored her remark with her brows drawn together. "Milo, Claggor, coffee!" She called. The two came rushing to the coffee carrier in Caitlyn’s hand. Their faces fostered smiles of anticipation.
Claggor extended his arms with smiling cheeks. His hands opened and closed with excitement.
Caitlyn returned his smile and pressed the warm cup of coffee into his hands.
Milo put a hand on his hip and tilted his head. "Anything for me?"
"Here! I was unsure about your preferences, so I chose each cup instinctively."
Milo hummed in agreement and took the last cup in Caitlyn’s carrier. "Thanks."
"Powder has always wanted to try their pastries." Vi suddenly spoke.
Caitlyn wasn't surprised. The display case alone was enough to lure most people inside.
Vi took another sip.
Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Okay. This is good."
Caitlyn smiled teasingly. "I know." She mused.
"Don't get used to being right."
"I'll do my best."
A laugh escaped Vi before she could stop it.
The sound lingered between them.
Warm.
Uncomplicated.
Caitlyn found herself smiling back, genuinely.
The workshop around them continued its usual rhythm. Somewhere in the back, a machine rattled to life. The radio perched atop a shelf crackled through a song Caitlyn didn't recognize. It’s probably an old song. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, illuminating the countless projects scattered throughout the space.
Vi truly belonged here.
Amongst steel, welding torches and their sparks.
Among blueprints and machinery.
"So," she began, setting her purse down on the nearest workbench. "How are the lilies progressing?"
Vi raised both her eyebrows, and her expression changed immediately.
The casual ease in her posture remained, but something brighter appeared beneath it.
Pride.
"They're doing well."
Caitlyn glanced around the workshop. "Do you have one here?"
Vi nodded toward a covered object in the corner.
"Prototype."
"May I?"
"Go ahead."
Caitlyn crossed the workshop and carefully pulled back the canvas draped over it.
Beneath sat a metal lily mounted atop a temporary stand. The petals were fashioned from polished steel, each one overlapping the next with remarkable precision. Copper wiring ran discreetly along the stem, disappearing into a small control box beneath the base.
Even unfinished, it was beautiful.
Caitlyn’s fingers traced the intricate patterns on each petal. The metal was cool beneath her touch, polished to a near mirror finish. Up close, she could see every careful weld hidden beneath the overlapping layers. Vi’s thick-fingered hands suddenly appeared at the corner of her eye.
"Look at the details of this." She said in a soft voice that startled Caitlyn. "Even these parts feel like real petals." She murmured close to Caitlyn’s ear. Her breath was hot against it. Thick fingers brushed against the edge of a petal, drawing her attention to a seam so expertly concealed she hadn't noticed it before.
Caitlyn swallowed.
Suddenly, focusing on the lilies became considerably more difficult.
"Powder spent days perfecting the prototype you saw," Vi began with a fond smile, "She argued with half of us in the workshop in those three days."
"And you built it?"
"The flower part."
"The flower?" She asked and Vi nodded.
"Powder's ideas don't usually come with instructions and she did all the wiring and programming."
Caitlyn turned toward her.
Vi had abandoned her work entirely now, leaning against the bench with her coffee in hand. "She comes to me with a sketch and a dream," Vi continued. "Then I spend the next month figuring out how to stop the dream from collapsing on itself. You know, explosions." She said without any irritation, only affection.
“You're quite the team, you and Powder.”
Vi was quiet for a moment.
"Yeah."
Her voice softened.
"We are."
The workshop fell silent between them.
Not awkward.
Comfortable.
Caitlyn found her gaze lingering on the lily's petals.
On the careful welds hidden beneath the metal, attaching the stem to the receptacle.
On the evidence of two people, a family, who had spent years building things together.
She understood then why Vi was so protective.
The installation wasn't simply a project.
No, it was years of Powder's dreams and imagination.
Years of Vi helping bring it to life.
Caitlyn suddenly feels something close to warmth blooming in her chest.
For a brief moment, Caitlyn found herself looking at Vi differently than before.
The realization startled her.
"I should," She began with a concealed shakiness, "I should leave."
Vi’s face was clouded with shock before it returned to neutral.
"Yeah, of course. Lemme walk you to your parking spot." Caitlyn gave an affirming nod in agreement. "I’d appreciate that. Thank you, Vi." She expressed.
The offer was simple.
It was casual.
Yet Caitlyn found herself pleased with this casualty with her and Vi.
Vi grabbed the door handle and held the workshop door open for her.
"After you, curator."
Caitlyn rolled her eyes in fake annoyance, the corner of her lips betrayed the amusement she concealed.
The warm afternoon air greeted them the moment they left the workshop.
The streets of Piltover bustled to life with their usual energy. Merchants called out to passersby. Trams rattled along their tracks overhead. Somewhere in the distance, the Academy bells chimed the hour.
The silence stretched between them as they walked side by side along the pavement.
It wasn't uncomfortable.
At least, Caitlyn didn't think it was.
Still, she found herself unusually aware of Vi's presence beside her.
Aware of the warmth that radiated from Vi’s every move.
The steady rhythm of her footsteps and her heavy work boots hitting the stone pavement..
The faint scent of machine oil that clung stubbornly to her clothes.
The way she occasionally nodded and smiled at passersby who seemed to know her.
A strange sourness settled on the back of her tongue.
What was this feeling?
The walk was tragically short. Her thoughts came to an end when they reached her car.
Vi’s hands entered her pockets, Caitlyn let out a short cough. "This is it." She said.
"Right. Off you go." Vi stands waiting on the sidewalk. She watched as Caitlyn felt around her purse for the keys.
"Be safe, Cait." Vi said with a brief wave as Caitlyn entered the driver’s side. She waited until her car turned the corner before walking back to the workshop.
The walk back to the workshop felt shorter somehow. Perhaps it was because Vi spent most of it thinking about Caitlyn’s sudden visit.
She replayed the conversation in her head.
The exhibit and the lilies.
The museum.
The coffee.
Her family.
Powder.
The curator.
By the time she reached the workshop, she had successfully convinced herself she was only thinking about the project.
Nothing else.
Absolutely nothing else.
The familiar sound of machinery and metal clanking welcomed her as she stepped inside once more.
Milo looked up from the workbench he occupied.
Claggor was hammering bent sheets into place.
Both of her brothers immediately noticed that Vi returned alone.
That was Vi’s mistake.
A terrible mistake she just made.
"So, where’s the curator?" Milo asked, barely masking the teasing in his voice. His gaze felt like a scanner, looking for even an inkling of evidence on Vi’s face.
She groaned.
There it is.
"She already left."
"That’s heartbreaking, Vi." Milo frowned dramatically.
“You must've been so devastated.” He quipped mischievously.
Vi’s expression soured in irritation.
"Oh, shut up."
"I’m serious." He said with a mischievous smirk.
"No, you’re not." Vi evaded once more.
Claggor snorted from his workbench, "How was your date?"
Vi nearly dropped her thick work jacket.
"What date?"
"The one you just went on."
"That? That wasn’t a date. I just walked her to her car." She said with narrowed eyes and a wrinkled nose.
Milo pointed a finger.
"That is exactly what someone on a date would say." He remarked.
"It was a project meeting."
"In our workshop?" Claggor asked.
"Yes."
"And she just brought coffee?" He teased.
“Expensive coffee.” Milo mentioned in agreement.
Vi paused with an irritated sigh.
"Yeah, now back off."
Milo leaned back in his swivel chair.
"It sounds pretty date-like to me."
"It was not a date." She reminded them both.
The two young men shared a look.
It was the worst thing they could ever share.
It was the look people shared when they thought they knew something you didn’t.
Vi hated that look.
"She brought me coffee."
Milo blinked.
His head slowly turned toward Claggor like gears turning.
"Oh, she's gone."
"Absolutely gone."
"What are you two talking about?"
Claggor rubbed a hand over his face.
"Vi."
"What?"
"How many people bring you coffee?"
Vi opened her mouth.
And closed it.
And genuinely thought about it.
"...Powder. But that doesn’t explain anything, it was a friendly gesture."
"It means everything."
"It means she was being polite." Vi insisted.
"It means she likes you."
Vi stared at her brothers like they both had grown two heads.
Then she laughed.
Like actually laughed.
As though the suggestion were completely ridiculous.
Milo and Claggor immediately looked disappointed.
"Wow."
"She's really gone."
"Hopeless."
"You’re both ridiculous." Vi stated.
Vi grabbed the nearest wet rag and threw it at them. "Get back to work."
The rag hit Milo square in the face with a loud plop.
"This is disgusting!" He exclaimed and Claggor cackled.
Neither man stopped grinning.
Vi shook her head and returned to work.
The hiss of a welding torch soon drowned out the teasing.
Sparks scattered across the concrete floor like fallen stars.
Across the city, another set of lights illuminated a very different space.
No machinery hummed.
No metal clanged against metal.
Instead, the grand halls of the museum stood bathed in golden light. Marble floors reflected the glow of ornate chandeliers overhead, while carefully curated exhibits rested behind glass and velvet rope. Every painting occupied its designated place. Every sculpture sat precisely where it was meant to be.
Order.
Intention.
Control.
The museum thrived upon all three.
Caitlyn Kiramman usually did too.
Yet as she stepped through the gallery doors with a stack of exhibition proposals tucked beneath her arm, her thoughts wandered somewhere far less organized.
To a cluttered workshop.
To steel lilies and metal-bent flowers.
To messy pink hair dusted with metal filings.
To a laugh she had heard only once and already remembered too well.
The sharp ringing of Caitlyn's phone interrupted the steady scratching of her pen.
She had spent the better part of an hour reviewing exhibition proposals from other local artists. Most were promising. A handful would require further discussion. One involved an alarming amount of glitter that would undoubtedly haunt the museum's floors for years to come.
She shuddered with a cold thrill.
Caitlyn reached for her phone without looking away from the paperwork.
The moment she saw the caller ID, she paused.
Mother.
A small sigh escaped her.
Not out of annoyance.
More out of anticipation.
Conversations with Cassandra Kiramman rarely lasted longer than a few minutes, yet somehow always felt like board meetings.
Professional.
Efficient.
Impossible to avoid.
She accepted the call.
"Good evening, Mother."
"Caitlyn." Her mother's voice emerged crisp and composed through the receiver.
Cassandra Kiramman had always possessed the remarkable ability to command a room without ever raising her voice. Whether speaking to politicians, investors, or fellow councilors, she carried herself with the same unwavering confidence and tenacity. Tenderness came as often as blue suns but for her family, she’s willing to make an exception.
Tenderness masked behind stoic expressions and small smiles.
"Caitlyn, please tell me you're on your way."
Caitlyn frowned.
She leaned back in her chair and glanced toward the windows overlooking Piltover.
"On my way where?"
A brief silence followed.
The kind that immediately tells Caitlyn that she had just made a mistake.
"Surely, you’re joking."
Her stomach dropped in realization.
The family dinner.
Before Caitlyn vacated her childhood bedroom, Cassandra and Tobias made her swear to come home once a week for dinner. It was her father’s wish, supported by her mother, which caught her by surprise. The weekly dinners became a tradition the Kirammans all looked forward to.
The realization crashed all at once.
The verbal invitation and the reminder her father sent.
The promise she made all those years ago.
Caitlyn turned her gaze to the ornate clock hanging above her office door. It read "Six twenty-three".
"Oh, mother."
"Caitlyn." Cassandra dragged her name out.
There it was, the familiar motherly tone.
Not irritated.
Not disappointed.
Somehow, it was worse.
A single drag of her name was capable of conveying both emotions.
"I remember."
"Apparently you do not." Cassandra said, a sigh sounding from the other end of the call.
Caitlyn rubbed both temples with a sharp intake of breath.
In her defense, the exhibition had consumed most of her attention already. Between planning meetings, negotiations with other artists, and reviewing installation proposals, all the days blurred together.
Unfortunately, that was not a sufficient excuse for Cassandra Kiramman.
"Mother, I lost track of time due heaps and heaps of work."
A sigh, softer than the one before, came through the receiver.
"Your father has spent the last ten minutes insisting you’ll arrive."
Caitlyn couldn’t help but let out a small smile.
That sounded exactly like her father.
Tobias Kiramman carried himself with a quiet warmth that put people at ease. Soft brown eyes sat behind a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, often crinkling at the corners whenever he smiled, which was often. Where Cassandra commanded attention the moment she entered a room, Tobias preferred to listen, offering thoughtful words and gentle encouragement that made him the steady heart of the Kiramman household.
That was just like her father.
"And what have you been saying?" Caitlyn spoke.
"That his daughter inherited her time management skills from Jayce." Her mother joked which earned a warm chuckle.
A genuine laugh.
Then both of them were laughing now.
"That’s one way to put it."
"It’s also true."
Another bout of laughter.
"Come home, your father and I are waiting." She continued without concealing the tenderness.
The soft smile lingered on Caitlyn’s face. She can sense that her mother is harboring the same expression on the other end of the line.
"I’ll leave now."
"You should."
"I’ll be there shortly, mother."
"We’ll see you soon, Caitlyn."
The line disconnected.
Caitlyn stared at the dark screen for a moment before placing the phone back on her desk.
Then her gaze drifted toward the organized stack of exhibition notes beside her. All color coded and categorized per month, artist and installation.
A corner of one page contained a hastily written note from earlier.
Follow up with Vi regarding lily installation measurements.
For reasons she couldn’t explain, her eyes lingered on the name.
Only briefly.
Then she stood and began gathering her things.
On the more abundant and prestigious side of town, the Kiramman Estate stood proudly atop the highest hill of Piltover, overlooking the city that had built their fortune.
Even after all these years, the sight remained impressive.
Golden light spilled from the towering windows, illuminating the pale stone exterior as dusk settled across the city’s skies. Ivy climbed the mansion's walls in careful patterns of grace, while the surrounding gardens flourished beneath the meticulous care of generations of poised gardeners. Beyond the estate grounds, Piltover glittered beneath the evening sky. Countless lights stretched toward the horizon like stars scattered upon the earth.
It was home.
Or at least the place Caitlyn had always returned to.
The wrought-iron gates parted like arms awaiting embrace at her approach.
Moments later, her automobile rolled along the winding driveway lined with trimmed hedges and blooming purple hydrangeas. The fountain occupying the center of the circular drive danced beneath strategically placed lanterns, its waters reflecting the warm glow of the mansion beyond.
Home sweet home.
Caitlyn parked and stepped from the vehicle.
The evening air at the estate carried the faint scent of roses, wet stone and musk. A familiar comfort she knew her entire life. One she rarely stopped to appreciate these days.
By the time she reached the front doors, they had already opened, beckoning her to come inside.
A household attendant greeted her with a practiced smile.
"Good evening, Miss Caitlyn." The older woman greeted with a bow. Her smile extended to the ends of her cheeks with her eyes scrunched. "We’re always so glad to have you home."
"Miss Suzette, am I late?"
The attendant considered the question with a soft hum. "Your mother would say yes." She replied.
"Wonderful." Caitlyn sighed in defeat.
The attendant's smile widened.
"However, you'll be pleased to know your father disagrees."
That sounded far more promising.
The tension on her shoulders slowly eased.
The foyer greeted her with warmth and familiarity. Marble floors gleamed beneath the crystal chandelier suspended overhead. Portraits of previous generations of Kiramman matriarchs adorned the walls, their painted eyes watching over the household with permanent dignity and guidance. A grand staircase curved upward toward the second floor, its polished gold banister reflecting the golden light cast throughout the room.
"Caitlyn, you’re late." Her mother’s stoic voice greeted her.
Her parents waited near the foot of the marble staircase. Each step gleaming in the warm light.
Cassandra Kiramman stood exactly as one might expect.
With her perfect posture.
Perfect tailoring.
Perfect stone-faced composure.
A deep plum dress complemented the dark hair pinned elegantly behind her shoulders. She looked every bit the influential figure Piltover knew her to be.
Beside her stood Tobias.
The complete opposite.
Warmth radiated from his stance.
His smile already crinkling his eyes.
His jacket had already been abandoned somewhere in the house. A pair of spectacles rested low upon his nose as he held a half-finished book beneath one arm. Warm brown eyes brightened the moment he spotted her.
"Hello, darling." He welcomed.
Before she could say a word, Tobias crossed the foyer and pulled her into a long embrace. His neck that reeked of the day’s servings of Earl Grey tea. His shirt wrinkled in his tight embrace.
"You made it."
"I always make it, father." She retorted with a shake of her head
Cassandra raised an eyebrow.
"You were twenty-three minutes late." She stated with a gloved hand on her hip.
Tobias immediately waved a dismissive hand at their banter.
"Twenty-three minutes is practically early by Jayce standards." He jested and a reluctant smile tugged at Caitlyn's lips.
Her mother looked unimpressed.
"Fortunately, Jayce is not my child."
"He might as well be." He replied.
"That is hardly the point." Cassandra said with a sigh.
Tobias grinned.
This was exactly how their weekly family dinners went. Caitlyn would tell them about her work. The new artists she met. The upcoming exhibits and future museum installations. Both Cassandra and Tobias listen to her stories with their occasional advice. Her father teased with all his might. Her mother pretending not to be amused by his jesting. All three secretly enjoy the banter.
The tension on her shoulders fully eased away as the household staff ushered the family into the dining room.
Eventually her mother’s attention was directed to the dark blue binder tucked into Caitlyn’s bag.
"Exhibition documents?" Her hand gestured to the item.
Caitlyn glanced down and looked at her feet.
"I stopped by the museum before coming here." She said quietly.
"Still working on the installation?" She quipped.
There was genuine curiosity beneath the question.
As one of the city’s councillors, Cassandra rarely involved herself in museum affairs, but she understood how important Caitlyn's work was to her. She often appeared with her husband on the opening nights of her daughter’s exhibits.
"Most of the planning is already finished." She recalled with a small smile.
"Then why do you look as though you've spent the last week putting out fires?" Tobias asked. He reached from a napkin in his pocket and dabbed at the gleam of sweat on Caitlyn’s forehead. Her father had always been so caring.
"Because I have." Caitlyn hinted at Powder’s possible explosive with repeated nods.
Tobias laughed at her antics.
"Artists?"
"Artists." She answered.
"Say no more, pet."
Cassandra folded her arms thoughtfully. She seems to remember a mechanical garden Caitlyn mentioned over the phone days ago.
"This is the kinetic exhibition you mentioned?"
"It is." Caitlyn nodded.
The image of steel lilies immediately resurfaced in her mind. Their metal petals unfolding beneath gallery lights. Copper stems twisting toward sound. Art that seemed to breathe. Art that seemed to be alive in the middle of machines and robots.
"It is unlike anything we've hosted before." She confessed in bewilderment. A hint of sparkle in her dark eyes.
That caught her mother's attention.
"Oh?"
"The installation, it responds to its visitors." Caitlyn began.
Tobias blinked.
"Responds?" He inquired.
"The flowers move toward sound. Several pieces react to motion. Others change depending on the number of people in the room. Even a small whisper can make a whole petunia blossom." She explained. A spark of excitement entered her voice before she could stop it.
Neither parent failed to notice. Cassandra's expression softened slightly.
Tobias smiled knowingly at his daughter.
"Jayce tells us the exhibition is progressing well. I'm looking forward to seeing it." He remarked, putting his hand on her shoulder. That bout of reassurance and support made her smile.
"So am I," Caitlyn admitted.
“You can expect our attendance on the opening night, Caitlyn.” Her father’s smiling eyes filled her with hope. “Right, darling?” Tobias gestured to his wife, who was scanning Caitlyn with a new found curiosity.
“Hm?” She hummed in confusion.
“The opening night, darling. Surely we are to attend in support of Caitlyn.” Tobias repeated.
“Oh yes, we shall fit the agenda in our schedule.” Cassandra confirmed. Tobias nodded approvingly, his face beaming with delight.
"You seem quite invested in this exhibition." Cassandra mentioned. Her inquisitive eyes carefully scanned her daughter.
"It's important to the museum."
"Mhm.”
"The artist must be remarkable." Cassandra noted.
"She is." Caitlyn found herself smiling.
Not a lie but not entirely the truth either. Because as she spoke, she realized she wasn't thinking solely about Powder. She was thinking about the workshop. The well-knitted relationship between its workers and the family they already formed. About hidden welds beneath polished petals. The melted metal that attached each piece.
She thought about the woman who helped transform worldly impossible ideas into reality.
"You've spoken about little else for the past two weeks."
Caitlyn nearly chokes on her water. "I have not."
"You have."
Tobias smiles into his plate. "She's right."
"Well, it's my responsibility." Their daughter countered.
"Of course," Cassandra said. "And is it a good use of your time?"
Caitlyn looks up. "Of course, mother."
Cassandra folded her arms thoughtfully. She seems to remember. “You say that but you’ve spent more time discussing this exhibition than any museum project before it.”
Caitlyn did not respond.
"The Academy has dozens of promising projects every year." Cassandra noted. "What makes this one different in particular?"
"This isn't just another project." Caitlyn was biting her bottom lip to suppress herself from arguing with her mother.
Caitlyn opens her mouth but pauses, because the answer isn't simple. It wasn't simply the engineering, nor art. It was the people behind it, the care they put in every commission and the pride. The sense that every piece had been made by someone who genuinely loved what they were creating. Vi, in the center of it all.
"It's meaningful," she says finally.
Cassandra watches her carefully.
"I see. And after the exhibition?" Cassandra inquired curiously.
Caitlyn blinks.
"What about after the exhibition?" She asked.
"What's next?"
For once, she doesn't have an answer.
Several days passed in a blur of meetings, commissions and last-minute adjustments.
The exhibition’s opening date drew closer with every passing morning, bringing with it the chaos that accompanied every major installation. Supply crates arriving late. Light bulbs bursting and lighting plans changing. A museum patron requested alterations that should’ve been communicated to Powder weeks ago. Caitlyn had to stop Vi from yelling at them.
By the end of the week, Caitlyn had spent more time at the museum than her own cozy apartment. She has missed her navy quilted blankets and silk duvets more so than ever.
However, the museum was quieter this afternoon.
The museum staff had been busy with the installation. Some had already moved to another gallery that needed assistance, which left fewer employees at their disposal. The space itself remained unfinished. Protective white sheets covered the wooden floors of the exhibition area while ladders occupied the room’s corners. Several kinetic flowers stood dormant beneath afternoon light.
Caitlyn skillfully moved between pieces and wires, clipboard tucked beneath one arm.
The exhibition was finally beginning to resemble the vision she and Powder imagined weeks ago. It was like their neurons connected and their thoughts conjured the four walls that will house her art.
"The living garden" they both called it. One built from copper wires and steel sheets rather than soil and chlorophyll.
Rows of metallic flora stretched across the floor.
Copper vines that curved around steel trellises.
Hidden gears and delicate wiring gave each piece the illusion of life, allowing them to sway, turn, and respond to the presence of visitors.
It was a garden that breathed without roots.
Nearby, Vi stood atop a study industrial ladder lathering moss green paint to the ceiling as Powder requested. The tray of paint precariously rested on the platform beside her.
A fact that Caitlyn immediately noticed.
She had learned that anything defined as "stable" by Vi warranted concern.
Anything Powder describes as "stable" warrants caution.
Caitlyn stood carefully under the ladder’s shadow.
"Is that safe?" She asked worriedly.
Vi didn’t even look.
"Which one?"
"The tray of paint." Caitlyn emphasized.
"Probably." Vi murmured without a care.
"Probably?"
"It’s not falling."
Caitlyn heaves a sigh of relief.
"Yet."
She rubbed the center of her forehead with her fingers. These sisters exhausted her, one day she would stop asking these questions. Today was not that day.
She took a step out of the shadows. Which unfortunately happened to be the exact moment Vi reached for a paint brush. Caitlyn did not notice the tray of paint shifting. A tiny droplet of moss green paint escaped.
A drop that would’ve gone unnoticed if it didn’t land directly on Caitlyn’s cream stilettos.
Silence.
Vi looked down with her mouth open in shock.
Caitlyn stared at her feet with widened eyes.
The plant-like hue dramatically stood against the warm white leather. It stuck out like a sore thumb on Caitlyn’s expensive heels.
Her breath hitched in fright.
"Oh."
Vi climbed down with such speed that Caitlyn couldn’t register.
"Oh no."
"It’s alright." She tried to reassure the already panicked Vi.
"No, it’s not."
"It’s just a shoe. No need to fuss over spilled paint." She explained.
"Caitlyn, they’re expensive shoes." Vi blurted worriedly.
Caitlyn opened her mouth in surprise.
Then promptly closed it.
The fact that Vi knew that was more concerning,
Before she could protest even further, Vi had already crouched by her legs.
A rag that materialized from seemingly nowhere.
Vi held her calf and attacked the green blob with alarming determination.
"Vi." Caitlyn whispered.
"I’m fixing it." She badgered, her hand furiously rubbing at the stain.
"Vi, it’s fine, really." Caitlyn breathed.
"It is not."
Cailtyn sighed breathlessly and looked down.
That proved to be a mistake.
Because Vi remained kneeling on both knees in front of her. One hand steadying Caitlyn’s leg. The other frantically scrubbed with the rag, attempting to remove the paint. A strand of pink hair escaped her mane and had fallen across her forehead. The concentrated expression she was wearing would’ve been endearing.
If she didn’t look so attractive like this.
"You’re making this a much bigger deal than it already is." Caitlyn tries to reason with her. "They’re just footwear."
"No, I got paint on museum curator shoes."
"They have a proper name."
Her powder blue eyes caught the afternoon light as she glanced up, focused entirely on Caitlyn.
Caitlyn forgot what she had been about to say.
The noises of the construction seemed distant.
Vi remained kneeling in front of her, one hand still resting lightly against her calf, entirely focused on the paint she'd declared a personal enemy minutes earlier.
It should have been ridiculous.
Instead, Caitlyn found herself staring.
"Oh."
Caitlyn swallowed nervously.
"Hello." She greeted, her grip tightening on the clipboard.
"Hey." Vi responded. She stood so quickly she nearly dropped the wet rag.
"Well, good news." She started.
"What is it?"
"The paint’s gone. It didn’t even leave a stain, see?" Vi gestured with her hand to the now stainless shoe.
Caitlyn looked down and the stain had indeed disappeared.
Vi releases her grip on Caitlyn’s leg and gently pats her thigh. "Now, that’s taken care of, I gotta get back to painting the ceiling."
She turned back to the iron ladder behind her and returned to her previous task.
A shame that the stain disappeared.
It would have been easier to explain whatever just happened that afternoon.
Caitlyn huffed a breath and hugged the clipboard closer to her chest.
"Right, I will leave you to do your tasks." She stated and Vi hummed in agreement.
Caitlyn walked away with that warmth blossoming in her chest once more.
What was this feeling? Why does it keep coming back? She wondered.
The malfunction occurred approximately thirty minutes later.
Which, according to Vi, was an excellent record.
Caitlyn strongly disagreed.
She had been making her way through the gallery with a clipboard tucked beneath one arm, reviewing final notes before opening day. The exhibition hall was quieter than it had been all week. Most of the installation crew had moved on to another wing of the museum, leaving behind only the distant sounds of tools, muffled voices, and the occasional metallic hum from the kinetic sculptures themselves.
Sunlight streamed through the high windows, transforming the gallery into something that felt less like a museum and more like a dream preserved in metal.
The exhibition had become a living mechanical garden.
Steel lilies unfolded whenever visitors approached, their silver petals catching the light like frost. Copper wisteria cascaded from suspended trellises overhead, responding to sound with gentle waves of movement. Beneath the central skylight, a grove of silver orchids slowly tracked the sun throughout the day, shifting together in elegant mechanical choreography.
Above them, birds occupied the artificial canopy.
Copper finches perched among fabricated branches while hummingbirds hovered around kinetic blossoms, their wings little more than shimmering blurs of brass and silver.
Everywhere Caitlyn looked, something moved.
Flowers bloomed.
Birds stirred.
Entire sections of the installation responded to motion, sound, and light.
It was exactly what she had envisioned.
Which was why the frozen lilies immediately caught her attention.
A cluster of mechanical lilies near the center of the gallery had stopped moving entirely.
Half their petals remained open.
The other half appeared trapped somewhere between blooming and closing.
The result looked less like art and more like confusion.
It irked Caitlyn endlessly.
"Vi." She called and the response was immediate.
"What? What’s wrong?" She heard from behind her.
Caitlyn turned to look.
Vi emerged from behind another installation carrying a thick wrench and looking entirely too pleased with herself despite spending the previous hour stressing over shipments.
A smear of green paint streaked one forearm.
Both sleeves rolled to her elbows, revealing tattoos of gears and smoke.
Her black work shirt was unbuttoned at the collar.
Caitlyn looked away before she could linger on any of those details.
She pointed toward the lilies. "The flowers appear to have given up."
Vi followed her gaze. "Oh."
"Oh?" Caitlyn narrowed her eyes.
"That's not supposed to happen."
"Remarkable observation."
Vi ignored her as usual. She crossed the gallery and crouched beside the installation.
Caitlyn watched as she examined the sculpture from several angles, brow furrowing in concentration.
There was something strangely compelling about watching Vi work.
Perhaps because she approached machinery the way artists approached canvas. With confidence, instinct and a complete disregard for conventional procedure.
Vi circled the installation once before kneeling beside the base.
A concealed panel disappeared beneath her fingers.
The moment it opened, wires appeared.
Far too many wires. Far too many colors.
Caitlyn frowned. Her lip jutted out in frustration.
"Should there be that many?" She questioned with scrunched eyebrows.
"Probably."
"Probably?"
Vi glanced up. "Do you want the reassuring answer or the honest one?"
"The reassuring one."
Vi considered. "No."
Caitlyn pinched the bridge of her nose. "Wonderful."
A grin flashed across Vi's face before she disappeared back into the machinery.
Caitlyn remained where she was. Partly because she wanted to ensure the sculpture survived. Partly because she found herself increasingly curious about how Vi's mind worked. The woman seemed capable of looking at a tangled mess of gears and wires and somehow understanding exactly what needed to happen.
It was impressive.
Infuriatingly so.
And, if Caitlyn were being entirely honest with herself, attractive.
Why does Vi have to be this hot?
Not that she intended to dwell on that particular realization.
She had enough complications in her life already.
"What happened?" she asked.
"No idea."
Caitlyn blinked.
"No idea?"
"I'll figure it out."
That answer should not have been reassuring.
Somehow it was.
Vi sounded completely unconcerned.
As though mechanical disasters were merely puzzles waiting to be solved.
A moment later, she vanished behind the installation entirely.
The flowers immediately began moving again.
Caitlyn brightened.
Then one lily rotated ninety degrees.
Another spun in a complete circle.
A third attempted what looked suspiciously like a dance.
The entire cluster began twitching violently.
Caitlyn stared.
One flower completed a full rotation before stopping upside down.
There was a pause before a muffled curse emerged from somewhere behind the sculpture.
Caitlyn pressed her lips together.
"Don't write that down!" Vi yelled out.
"I wasn't planning to."
"Good."
The flowers twitched again.
Then stopped.
Silence settled across the gallery.
A long sigh escaped Vi.
"Okay."
The word carried the exhausted resignation of someone who had just discovered the problem was significantly worse than expected.
Caitlyn folded her arms.
"That doesn't sound encouraging."
"It's fine."
"You say that about everything."
"Because everything usually is."
"Usually?"
"Mostly."
"Vi."
"I'm working on it."
Despite herself, Caitlyn smiled. Then immediately looked away before Vi could notice.
Unfortunately, Vi noticed everything. Especially when Caitlyn wished she wouldn't.
Several moments passed.
Metal clicked and tools shifted.
The occasional muttered comment drifted from behind the sculpture.
Caitlyn found herself listening for Vi's voice without meaning to.
The realization was unsettling.
She had known the woman for weeks now.
Long enough to become accustomed to her presence.
Long enough to anticipate her teasing remarks.
Long enough to recognize the sound of her footsteps approaching across a room.
Entirely too long.
And yet every interaction still seemed capable of catching her off guard.
Particularly when Vi smiled or laughed. Or looked at her for slightly longer than necessary.
A sharp metallic click interrupted her thoughts.
Footsteps followed.
Caitlyn turned and Vi was suddenly standing behind her much closer than expected.
"Excuse me." Her voice was low.
"I need to get in there."
Caitlyn stepped aside a fraction too late, long enough for both of them to notice. Something flickered across Vi's expression before she leaned forward and reached past her.
One arm appeared beside Caitlyn's shoulder.
Then the other.
The scent of machine oil and coffee drifted through the narrow space between them.
Caitlyn focused very hard on the sculpture.
It did absolutely nothing to help.
A screwdriver clicked against metal.
Vi muttered something beneath her breath.
Another adjustment.
Another click.
The reflection in the polished petals showed them standing far closer than anyone repairing machinery had any business standing.
Caitlyn looked away immediately.
"There we go."
The lilies shuddered before blooming once more.
Elegant.
Graceful.
Alive.
Vi leaned back.
The sudden absence of her warmth felt strangely noticeable. Caitlyn released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
The problem had been solved.
Unfortunately, she had a different problem now.
Her problem that is standing directly in front of her right now.
It was how her nose grew accustomed to the smell of musk and grease.
At how her body tingled in anticipation whenever Vi’s body drew near and radiated heat.
How her cheeks instantly flare up from her hot breath.
Vi straightened.
A faint smudge of grease marked her jaw.
Her hair had partially escaped its tie.
There was satisfaction in her expression.
Pride.
The quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly how capable she was.
Caitlyn found herself staring again.
This was becoming a problem.
Vi noticed immediately.
Of course she did.
A slow smile appeared.
The kind that always seemed to spell trouble. "What is it?"
Caitlyn blinked.
"What?"
"You're looking at me."
"I am not."
"You are."
"I was looking at the sculpture."
"The sculpture is over there."
Caitlyn glanced toward the lilies. Unfortunately, they were very obviously in the opposite direction.
Vi's smile widened.
"Oh."
Silence.
Caitlyn wished the floor would open beneath and swallow her whole.
Vi folded her arms.
Still smiling.
Still watching her.
Still entirely too pleased with herself.
The worst part was that Caitlyn couldn't tell whether Vi understood exactly what had just happened.
Or whether she was simply enjoying making her flustered.
Perhaps both.
Neither possibility was encouraging.
"What?" Vi asked again.
Caitlyn looked away immediately.
Toward the lilies.
Toward her clipboard.
Toward literally anything else.
"Nothing."
The smile widened further.
Warm.
Knowing.
Dangerously fond.
"Sure."
And somehow that single word felt far more dangerous than the malfunction ever had.
By nine in the evening, Caitlyn had been convinced the day was finally over.
The museum had emptied hours ago. Most of the staff had gone home. Even the installation crew had begun packing away their tools for the night. The grand exhibition hall sat in relative silence, illuminated only by overhead work lights and the occasional glow of machinery still undergoing testing.
For the first time all day, Caitlyn allowed herself to relax. Relief flooded her system.
Relief had visited her for three minutes when her phone rang.
The grating ringtone made Caitlyn close her eyes.
Slowly and deliberately, she answered the call.
"Please tell me nothing is on fire." She murmured, exhaustion tainting her words.
The employee on the other end hesitated, "No?"
Caitlyn straightened up immediately before she humiliated herself further.
"Why did that sound like a question?"
"The shipment for the installments arrived," The employee paused.
"Wonderful." Caitlyn closed her eyes in satisfaction.
"However, the wrong shipment arrived." He finished.
"Of course it did." Caitlyn whispered sarcastically.
The universe was hellbent on lengthening the day.
"What happened?"
"The transport company mixed up the manifests. Half the crates for the exhibition were delivered to the harbor district."
Caitlyn stared at the ceiling.
Naturally.
"Where are the correct crates now?"
"They've been redirected to the loading dock."
"And they're arriving tonight."
Another pause.
"Yes."
Caitlyn sighed. Relieved that the last crates were coming through tonight.
"I'll be there shortly."
The call ended.
A mind numbing headache immediately followed.
Vi noticed her massaging the center of her forehead, she immediately placed her hand in the same spot. "Is there a problem with the installation?"
Vi was already getting ready to leave for the night. The leather jacket she wore on the way here rested over one shoulder while her tool box weighed heavily in her other hand. A wrench protruded from the back pocket of her jeans.
Caitlyn was beginning to suspect that Vi had this particular wrench with her at all times.
"The shipment was delayed." She informed her. Vi groaned at the sentiment.
"No. Are you serious?"
"Yes."
"Please tell me we’re not unloading the crates tonight."
Caitlyn let out a breathless laugh as she grabbed her beige trench coat.
"I’m afraid not, we’re unloading crates tonight."
"Just fucking fantastic." Vi cursed.
She cracked her neck and set down her tool box once more. Metal tools inside clinked as it hit the floor.
"Guess I’d better come with you to unload these crates." Vi said. She extended her arms upward and cracked her knuckles.
Caitlyn paused in her steps, "You don’t have to." She reasoned with confusion.
Vi mirrored the same expression.
"Yeah, I do."
The response came so naturally that Caitlyn found herself momentarily speechless.
Vi rolled her shoulders back and shrugged. "My sister’s stuff is in those crates."
As though that explained everything.
Ten minutes later they found themselves in the museum’s loading docks.
The temperature in Piltover had dropped considerably from the warm sun this afternoon. Cold air swept through the industrial and management section of the museum, carrying with it the faint smell of rain and ocean air.
The loading area sat far removed from the polished galleries and extravagant exhibits visitors saw during the day. No marble floors or ornate lighting. Concrete lined both the walls and floor and steel pillar. Cargo lifts rested outside the enormous shipment doors while crates and pallets sat in the center of the loading dock.
The practical side of museum work.
Caitlyn raised the collar and wrapped her coat tighter around herself.
The night was merciless. The wind answered by immediately finding every gap in her pencil skirt and trench coat.
Wonderful, she thought while she stopped her teeth from chattering.
Beside her shivering body, Vi was completely unaffected from the looks of it. She walked with her hands tucked in her pocked, seemingly oblivious to the negative temperature. Caitlyn pursed her lips in envy.
A truck reversed into the loading bay. Its headlight cut through the darkness of the evening. The last of the workers immediately began directing it toward the correct unloading area. Another beckoned Caitlyn for her signature.
She stepped forward to inspect the paperwork when another strong gust of wind entered the dock. This one was considerably stronger than the last, the cold bit through her clothes.
She tried her best not to shiver. Unfortunately, Vi noticed everything. She saw how Caitlyn’s teeth chattered unwillingly and the hairs on her neck stood relentlessly. Caitlyn’s lips were turning pale despite being tinted by a mauve lipstick.
"You cold?" She asked worriedly.
"No." Caitlyn lied through her teeth. Her teeth that wanted to clatter against one another from the tundra-like temperature.
"C’mon, you just shivered."
"I did not." She denied with a jutted lip.
"You definitely did."
Caitlyn refused to dignify that with a verbal response. She turned her body away with a soft huff.
Vi stared at her for a moment. She heaved a familiar sigh.
The kind she usually reserves for Powder when she forgets to eat.
Before Caitlyn could refuse, Vi shrugged off her thick jacket.
The worn leather looked heavier than it appeared.
"Vi—"
"Take it. Take the damn jacket already." Vi ordered with a knowing grin.
"No, Vi. I can’t just take your belongings." She reasoned.
"Take it."
"I'm perfectly capable of—" Another shiver coursing through her spine betrayed her.
Vi's grin widened instantly.
"There it is."
Caitlyn hated that grin.
Mostly because she liked it. Far too much.
"You're insufferable." Caitlyn told her.
"So I've been told."
The jacket was already being draped across her shoulders.
Warmth immediately followed and enveloped her torso.
The leather retained traces of the day's heat. Faint hints of machine oil lingered in the material. Coffee too. Strangely enough, it smelled comforting. It felt normal.
"Vi." She called.
"What?"
"You'll be cold." She said with her face twisting in guilt.
Vi looked down at her rolled sleeves then back at Caitlyn.
She cackled unguardedly.
"Cait." She said between snorts and chortles.
The nickname slipped out so casually that neither of them seemed prepared for it.
"I work around welding torches all day."
“Oh.” Caitlyn averted her gaze in embarrassment.
“I’ll survive, Cait.” She reminded her after recovering from her bout of laughter.
The warmth spreading through Caitlyn’s chest had very little to do with the jacket wrapped around her.
Around them, museum workers began unloading the last of the shipment crates.
Metal groaned as they clashed around one another. Forklifts hummed as they left. Voices called instructions across the dock.
Yet Caitlyn found herself distracted.
By the jacket resting around her shoulders.
By the woman standing beside her.
By the realization that she didn't particularly want the evening to end.
By the fact that everyone has left and they’re both alone together.
A troubling thought.
Especially because tomorrow she would have to give the jacket back.
And, for reasons she couldn't explain, she was already looking forward to the excuse.
Ironically enough, Vi was thinking of the same thing.
Among other things.
Vi watched as color gradually returned to Caitlyn’s features. A faint flush spread across her cheeks, tinting them the color of ripe apples, while her lips appeared soft and plump beneath a sheen of gloss. Even beneath the dim evening sky, her blue eyes caught the moonlight, reflecting silver against the darkness in a way that made them impossible to look away from.
Vi’s eyes caught her lips again.
A glossy mauve.
She thought about how badly she wanted to smash her lips against hers right now.
Perhaps she should.
The feelings hit her all at once.
Too fast.
Too hard.
She wanted to kiss Caitlyn Kiramman.
The thought arrived without warning and refused to leave.
Beside her, Caitlyn shifted beneath the borrowed jacket. Her fingers and palms disappeared into the sleeves that were slightly too long for her. The sight should have been amusing. It should’ve been adorable.
Instead, it made something in Vi's chest tighten. Tighten with need.
"Caitlyn." The name escaped before she could stop it.
Caitlyn looked up, her face expressionless and soft. "What?"
The single word came out softer than expected.
Vi swallowed hard. For the first time in her life, she couldn't seem to find the right thing to say.
The loading dock was silent around them. The newly arrived crates sat untouched. Forklifts hummed in the distance.
All of it felt right somehow.
There was only Caitlyn.
Only those eyes.
Those lips.
The way she was looking at her now.
Waiting.
"Cait..." Caitlyn's breath caught at the bellow of her name.
Vi saw it. She saw the exact moment something changed.
Neither of them moved.
Not at first.
The tension stretched between them, fragile and electric.
Then Caitlyn took a step closer. A small step.
Barely noticeable.
But it was enough.
Vi's heart hammered against her ribs.
"Caitlyn," she said again, quieter this time.
The other woman tilted her head slightly. "Yes, Vi?"
There it was.
That look.
Open.
Hopeful.
Dangerous.
Vi's restraint finally snapped open.
She closed the distance between them and slammed their lips together.
Her mind went blank.
Caitlyn’s eyes widened in surprise.
She kissed back, hard, without hesitation and pulled Vi tight against her body, leaving no distance between them.
Their chests hitting each other with a soft thud. Vi’s sturdy physique framed hers perfectly.
She finally had Vi in her arms like this.
One hand found the front of Vi's shirt, clutching the fabric as though grounding herself. The other rose to the back of her neck. Vi let out a soft groan in retaliation.
Oh, she loved that.
She loved that a lot.
Their lips clashed against each other with an unfounded ferocity.
The force of it startled them both.
Weeks of lingering glancing and unfinished business dissolved in the sudden kiss. Every moment spent pretending there was nothing there felt utterly ridiculous.
Vi’s hand settled firmly against Caitlyn’s waist.
It was steady and certain.
Two pairs of lips moving in sync.
Heat radiating between every sloppy exchange.
Saliva mingled with one another as their tongues met.
Sadly, they had to catch their breaths from the intensity of it all.
When they finally broke apart, neither ventured far.
Their foreheads brushed. A shared breath passed between them.
Then Caitlyn laughed softly.
The sound was breathless.
Disbelieving.
Beautiful.
Vi felt her chest tighten.
“Cait, if I kiss you again, I won’t be able to stop.” She whispered.
Caitlyn heaved one heavy breath after another.
Mind still broken from the exhilarating feeling of Vi’s lips against hers.
Lips still burning from the fierce kiss.
Why would she ever want to stop?
“Who said I wanted you to stop? Kiss me, again.” Caitlyn spoke, lips mere centimeters away from Vi’s. Her breath hitched at every word.
“Isn’t this what you wanted, Violet?” She murmured dangerously. Her eyes darted between the other’s lip and neck. Fingers rubbing circles on the back of Vi’s neck, like playing with the last of her restraint.
“It’s not. I mean, it is. It is!” Vi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna forget how to behave.”
The wild look on Caitlyn’s face was amplified and her smile was nothing short of triumphant.
Triumphant at slowly pushing Vi’s buttons.
“Behave?”
“You know what I mean.” Vi’s grip on her waist tightened more.
The tight grip earned a soft whimper from Caitlyn’s lips.
Vi closed her eyes tightly, trying to ground herself.
“Do I?”
“Cait.” She threatened firmly.
Her name left Vi’s mouth like a warning.
A very ineffective warning.
The hand resting on the back of Vi’s neck hiked up to the back of her head. Vi shuddered in pleasure as Caitlyn dragged her nails on the shaved part of her hair.
It felt amazing.
She stared straight into Caitlyn’s eyes. Still bewildered at the wild desire dancing behind them.
Caitlyn softly bit her lip in anticipation and Vi nearly lost her mind.
The mere sight stole the remaining coherence from Vi’s thoughts.
“Fuck it.” She mumbled before swallowing Caitlyn’s lips with hers again.
This time, with nothing holding her back.
Caitlyn wanted this.
She savoured the taste of her lips.
How it tasted like vanilla and earl grey tea.
How the inside of her mouth tasted like the mint breath freshener she always sprayed.
How her tongue against hers was hot and sloppy.
Dangerously addictive.
Just as she wanted it to be.
Caitlyn moaned desperately as Vi aggressively met her lips over and over. It was like tempting a beast with a delectable treat, one she couldn’t resist.
“I never imagined it would be this nice to hear your voice like this.” Vi admitted softly in between kisses.
Her hand rose to Caitlyn's jaw, fingers settling along the curve of it. The gesture was possessive in a way that made Caitlyn's breath catch, yet there was something undeniably tender beneath it.
Vi held her there firmly.
Caitlyn moaned in deprivation. Her sounds echoing in the empty loading dock. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now, Cait.”
The confidence she carried so effortlessly in boardrooms and galleries seemed to abandon her entirely whenever Vi looked at her like that.
"I think I do," she whispered breathlessly.
“No, you don’t.” Vi chuckled before lowering her large calloused hand from Caitlyn’s jaw to her neck. She saw the look of ecstacy in her eyes.
Which prompted her to hold Caitlyn’s neck in a soft choke. She released a needy, wanton moan as Vi held her throat.
“You sound so desperate, baby.” Vi rasped huskily. She watched as Caitlyn’s posture crumbled and her face twisted in hunger. “Look at you, you’re helpless under my touch.”
A shiver ran down her spine as she caught her breath. She felt a familiar pool in her stomach as Vi carefully coaxed reactions out of her. “Please…” Caitlyn uttered, her body aching in places only Vi could remedy.
Vi’s eyebrows raised in delight. “You like that, Cait? Let’s see how much you want it, baby.” Vi commanded. She watched as Caitlyn whined in sexual frustration. The lack of touching in certain places exasperated her.
“Come on, please, do something.” Caitlyn begged.
Vi let out a haughty laugh at her plea. “Oh, I’m gonna do something.”
Their lips met again sloppily. It sends Caitlyn’s heart in a frenzy.
Suddenly the cold that bit at her skin didn’t matter as much anymore.
To be this close and this intimate with Vi was something she only imagined. Fantasized with the hot ache between her legs.
She moaned deeply into Vi’s swallowing mouth.
Not even her dirtiest dreams could compare to tonight.
Vi’s hand travels from her waist to the back of her upper thigh, squeezing lightly. The feeling of her hands made Caitlyn whimper in anticipation.
“You like that, baby?” She taunted the moaning mess in her arms. She pulls Caitlyn into another kiss, deeper than the one they shared before.
Caitlyn lets out a sharp breath when Vi’s warm tongue seeks entrance into her mouth. She opens her mouth to grant permission. Vi’s tongue completely dominated her mouth, heat radiated from her tongue.
The exchange was so hot it almost fogged their eyes.
Vi pulled away to let her breathe. “You taste so good,” she said. “Let me taste the rest of you, baby.”
Vi’s hand moved from the back of her ass to Caitlyn’s inner thighs. A smirk tugged at her cheeks when Caitlyn shuddered in delight.
“Vi—“ she stuttered. Cheeks flushed both from the cold and their heated exchange.
“Yeah? Just tell me what you want, baby.” Vi said eyes locking onto hers. The hand holding Caitlyn in a choke squeezed. It caught Caitlyn off guard, her breath hitched.
“I want you.”
Vi buried her face against the curve of her neck, she tackled her neck with slow, lapping kisses. Wet sounds filled the atmosphere as she took pleasure in tasting the sweat and vanilla from Caitlyn’s neck. A shiver traveled through her immediately, impossible to suppress.
“Please..” She pleaded.
It’s driving her insane in the best way. The hand choking her made her absolutely delirious.
Even the face buried in her neck drove her to ecstasy.
“Please, Vi…” She begged harder.
Vi has finally had enough of toying with her.
“Be as loud as you want, baby.” She said.
Vi’s rough hands made their way under the perfectly tailored pencil skirt she was wearing. Her fingers met the wet patch that stained her silky black underwear.
Caitlyn’s blush intensified.
“You’re all wet f’me, baby.” Vi let out a wolfish grin at her scarlet stained face. “I’m going to take good care of your pretty pussy.”
Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed in bliss. “Vi, I want you to fuck me. Please..”
“Easy, baby. You’ll get what you asked for.” Vi chuckled.
Strong fingers lifted the silk that covered Caitlyn. Vi slowly glided her fingers against her folds. Caitlyn moaned at the feeling, her already soaked core glistened.
So, so wet.
“Shit.” She cursed, her head leaned against a nearby wall. Pleasure poured from Vi’s fingers into her. She moaned softly.
“You like that?”
“Yes!” she almost screamed.
Vi took her sweet time exploring, her fingers might prune but she couldn’t care less. She was right where she wanted to be.
In between Caitlyn Kiramman’s legs.
“So good..” she whispered softly.
Vi’s touch was magic. She moved her fingers in a way that made Caitlyn’s toes curl, drawing out gasps and soft moans with every expert stroke against her swollen clit.
The wall was cold against her back, but Vi’s body was a scorching furnace in front of her. The hand still around her throat tightened just enough to make her head swim, to focus every nerve ending on the contrasting sensations—cold steel at her back, hot woman at her front, Vi’s thumb pressing deliberately into the pulse point on her neck.
Then one long finger pushed inside her.
Caitlyn’s breath hitched. The intrusion was sudden, perfect. Vi didn’t move, just let her adjust, let her feel the width of it, the promise of more to come. The gentle stretch sent a jolt straight through her.
“Vi…” she breathed, the name was a prayer.
“I know, baby.” Vi’s voice was a low rumble against her ear. “I know.”
Then she began to move, a slow, deliberate drag that had Caitlyn’s hips rolling to meet her. “Gotta open you up for me. Gotta get you ready.”
She added a second finger, and the burn was exquisite. Caitlyn’s head thudded back against the brick, a gasp tearing from her lips.
Vi’s palm was pressed flush against her clit, and every push of her fingers sent shockwaves of pleasure through her entire body.
She was so full, so stretched, so utterly possessed by the woman pinning her to the walls of the museum’s loading dock. She couldn’t care less if someone heard the obscenity that spilled from her lips.
“More,” Caitlyn managed, the word ragged.
“Vi, more.”
Vi wasn’t a patient woman, each plea drove her insane with desire. She set a rhythm, a deep, claiming rhythm that punched little sounds out of Caitlyn with every thrust. Her wrist was clever, twisting just so, curling her fingers to find that spot inside that made Caitlyn’s vision white out.
“Right there, right there, oh god, right there—”
Vi found it and stayed there, grinding her fingers against it, her other hand still a firm brand around Caitlyn’s throat. The sounds were obscene now—the wet slap of Vi’s palm against her, the frantic panting from Caitlyn’s lips, the low, encouraging growls from Vi.
“You look so good like this,” Vi praised, her eyes dark and fixed on Caitlyn’s face.
“So fucked out for me. Taking my fingers so well. Such a good girl.”
The words were as potent as the touch, pushing Caitlyn higher.
It was heavenly.
She could feel it building, that tight coil low in her belly, pulling, pulling, ready to snap. Her thighs were trembling, her whole body straining.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, her hands clawing at Vi’s shoulders. “Please, don’t stop, I’m so close—”
“I got you,” Vi promised, and her thumb found Caitlyn’s clit, circling it once, twice, a perfect, firm pressure that was all it took.
The world shattered. Caitlyn’s back arched off the wall, a cry tearing from her throat as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.
Vi worked her through it, her fingers never stopping, milking every last ounce of sensation from her until she was a boneless, trembling mess, sagging in Vi’s arms.
For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breaths mingling in the frigid air.
Vi slowly withdrew her fingers, and Caitlyn whimpered at the loss. But then Vi was bringing those glistening fingers to her own lips, her eyes never leaving Caitlyn’s as she cleaned them off, a slow, deliberate act that sent a fresh jolt of want through her oversensitive body.
“You’re sweet,” Vi murmured, her voice a satisfied rasp. “Like a cupcake.”
Caitlyn, still boneless and buzzing, could only watch, her lips parted, as a wicked grin spread across Vi’s face.
The woman was a predator who had just tasted blood.
Vi was clearly hungry for more.
“Not done with you yet, baby,” Vi growled, the pet name a stark contrast to the raw power in her voice.
Before Caitlyn could even process the words, Vi was moving. The strong hands that had just brought her to such heights were now on her shoulders, guiding her, turning her.
Caitlyn stumbled, her legs feeling like liquid, but Vi was there, a solid wall of muscle and heat behind her, steadying her. She pressed Caitlyn forward, until her hands came to rest against the cold, damp brick of the wall.
The rough texture scraped against her palms.
Her skirt was still hiked up around her waist, the cool air a shocking kiss against her exposed, dripping heat.
She felt incredibly vulnerable, bent over like this, her backside presented to the woman who had just claimed her so thoroughly. A fresh wave of arousal, sharp and shocking, coursed through her.
Vi’s hands landed on her hips, gripping them possessively.
Then Caitlyn felt the unmistakable press of Vi’s knees against the back of her own, forcing her to widen her stance.
She was completely open, utterly exposed for Vi’s predatory gaze.
“Look at you,” Vi’s voice was a low hum of appreciation, right behind her.
“All spread out for me. So pretty.”
Caitlyn could only whimper in response, pushing her forehead against the cool brick, trying to ground herself.
Then she felt it. The wet, flat heat of Vi’s tongue dragged slowly, deliberately, over her entrance.
“Oh!” The sound was punched out of her, a shocked little gasp.
Vi repeated the motion, a long, slow lick that gathered all of Caitlyn’s wetness on her tongue.
It was filthy.
It was incredible.
The feeling was so much more intense, so much more intimate than the fingers.
This was consumption.
This was worship.
Vi held her goddess in her hands.
“Vi…” she breathed, the name a shaky whisper.
Vi answered with a hum of approval, the vibration sending a jolt through Caitlyn’s core.
Then her tongue pushed inside.
Caitlyn’s knees buckled. Her elbows locked, the only thing keeping her upright as Vi’s tongue began to fuck her in earnest.
It was a sloppy, wet, glorious mess. Vi wasn’t holding back, making obscene, hungry sounds as she ate her out from behind.
Her nose pressed against Caitlyn’s perineum, her chin was surely soaked, and the thought made Caitlyn blush so hard she felt it in her toes.
“Baby, you taste even better down here,” Vi slurred, pausing for a breath before diving back in.
“So fuckin’ sweet.”
Her tongue alternated between thrusting inside and lapping up to circle her clit, which was still so sensitive from her orgasm that each pass made her jolt.
She was building again, impossibly fast. The pleasure was a tidal wave, and Vi was the moon pulling it higher and higher.
“Please,” Caitlyn begged, not even sure what she was begging for.
Seeming to understand, Vi’s movements became more focused. She sealed her mouth over Caitlyn’s clit and sucked, hard, at the same time as she pushed two fingers back into her clenching heat.
The combination was devastating.
Devastatingly good for Caitlyn.
Caitlyn cried out, a raw, ragged sound that echoed off the alley walls. Her vision went white, her entire body convulsing as a second, more powerful orgasm tore through her.
It wasn't a wave this time; it was an explosion, ripping through her limbs and leaving her shaking and utterly wrecked.
She slumped against the wall, held up only by Vi’s strong hands on her hips and Vi’s face still buried between her legs.
Vi gave one last, gentle lick, a final, possessive taste, before slowly rising to her full height behind her.
Caitlyn felt Vi’s body press against her back, a solid, comforting weight. Strong arms came around her waist, pulling her upright and holding her close. Her head was spinning, her legs were jelly, and she felt utterly, thoroughly spent.
“Easy there, cupcake,” Vi murmured into her sweaty hair, her lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Got you.”
For a moment, they just stood there, wrapped in each other, the frantic energy of moments ago settling into a warm, humming contentment.
The cold of the night seemed a distant memory, chased away by the heat radiating from Vi’s body. Caitlyn could feel Vi’s heart beating against her back, a steady, reassuring rhythm.
Slowly, gently, Vi turned her in her arms.
"Hey."
Caitlyn leaned against her, tucking her face into the crook of Vi's neck, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and sweat and something that was just Vi.
The smell had become strangely familiar.
Comforting.
Like warm coffee in the mornings.
Like the workshop, with its sparks and cinders.
Like coming home after a long day.
Vi's arm instinctively tightened around her waist.
Neither of them spoke.
The loading dock sat empty now. The shipments had been unloaded hours ago, leaving behind abandoned pallets and towering crates waiting to be catalogued. Fluorescent lights cast pale reflections across the concrete floor while the distant skyline of Piltover glittered beyond the open bay doors.
For once, Caitlyn wasn't thinking about the museum.
Or the exhibition.
Or the dozen emails waiting for her tomorrow morning.
Her thoughts were pleasantly quiet.
A rare occurrence.
"You alright?" Vi asked, concern leaking through her voice.
The question rumbled through her chest.
Caitlyn could feel every word.
She smiled against the fabric of Vi's shirt.
"Yes."
A pause.
"Very much so."
Vi hummed in satisfaction.
The vibration sent warmth blooming through Caitlyn's chest.
It was ridiculous.
A month ago she had barely known this woman.
Now she found herself memorizing every little thing about her.
The roughness of her hands.
The scar above her eyebrow.
The way she always smelled faintly of machine oil no matter how hard she tried to wash it away.
She internally laughed at the thought.
The way she softened whenever Powder was involved.
The way she looked at her.
A dangerous thought.
Caitlyn tilted her head upward.
Vi was already looking down at her.
Of course she was.
Moonlight spilled through the loading dock entrance behind her. It softened the sharp lines of Vi's face and painted silver across strands of pink hair. A faint bruise lingered along her jaw from an incident involving an unstable metal frame earlier that week.
Caitlyn had spent entirely too much time worrying about it.
The realization made her smile.
"What?" Vi asked immediately.
"You." The answer slipped out before she could stop it.
For a moment, Vi simply stared at her in wonder.
Then a flush crept up her neck.
A remarkable sight.
Particularly because Vi could face malfunctioning machinery, impossible deadlines, and angry contractors without blinking.
Yet a simple compliment rendered her speechless.
Caitlyn found the discovery delightful.
"I like seeing that."
"Seeing what?"
"You flustered."
"Cupcake." Vi groaned.
"No, truly."
A laugh escaped her.
Soft.
Warm.
"I don't think I've ever seen you embarrassed before."
"That's because I'm not."
"You absolutely are."
The flush deepened, rivaling the hue of pink she wore on her head.
Proof.
Caitlyn felt entirely vindicated by the display.
Vi shook her head and buried her face briefly in Caitlyn's now ruffled hair.
The movement earned another laugh.
The sound echoed through the empty loading dock.
For a moment neither of them moved.
Neither seemed eager to leave.
Caitlyn listened to the steady rhythm of Vi's heartbeat beneath her ear.
Strong.
Certain.
Reliable.
The sort of heartbeat she imagined would always sound the same.
The thought settled somewhere deep inside her chest.
Warm and heavy.
Comfortable.
Without thinking, she slipped her hand into Vi's.
The contrast immediately struck her.
Her own fingers felt small and lithe in comparison.
Smooth where Vi's were calloused.
Warm where hers were cold.
Vi intertwined their fingers without hesitation.
As though it was the most natural thing in the world.
Perhaps it was.
Caitlyn smiled.
For the first time in a very long time, she wasn't thinking about what came next.
She wasn't planning.
Or organizing.
Or solving problems.
She was simply here.
Existing quietly with Vi.
Standing in the middle of a museum loading dock with Vi's jacket around her shoulders and Vi's hand in hers.
And somehow, that felt like enough.
Eventually the night came to an end.
The museum lights were switched off one by one. Workers departed with tired waves and promised to return in the morning. Even the city itself seemed to grow quieter as midnight settled across Piltover.
That night, Caitlyn carried a piece of their evening home with her.
Quite literally in fact.
The leather jacket that Vi regularly adorned remained draped over her slender shoulders for the entire drive back to her apartment.
The scent of Vi lingered in the air of her car.
Machine oil.
Black coffee.
Leather worn from the years of work.
It was as if Vi was inside with her.
Caitlyn knew that she should’ve returned the piece. Instead, she found herself carefulled hanging it over the back of a chair in her bedroom.
It was just for tonight.
The jacket was to be returned the next time they meet,
At least, that was the excuse she gave herself.
Sleep came easier than expected.
When slumber visited her quarters. It carried with it flashes of messy pink hair and powder blue eyes that she can’t seem to ignore.
The sound of laughter.
The warmth of strong, capable hands intertwined with her.
The museum’s loading dock, illuminated by moonlight.
And a woman who had somehow become impossible to forget.
Morning arrived far too quickly.
Golden sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of her Piltover townhouse, casting long shadows across polished hardwood floors.
Caitlyn opened her eyes.
For a brief moment, she simply stared at the ceiling.
Then her gaze shifted.
To the chair beside her desk.
To the leather jacket hanging neatly over its back.
How it looked out of place in her quarters.
A smile immediately tugged at her lips.
Well.
Today was certainly going to be interesting.
For the first time in weeks, Caitlyn found herself eager to get to work.
The exhibition was nearly ready, after weeks of planning and meetings, watching impossible ideas slowly become real. Soon the museum would open its grand doors. Soon Piltover would see what Powder built.
Soon—
Across Piltover, Powder was trying very hard not to throw up from anxiety.
It started on an entirely ordinary morning.
At least, it was supposed to be ordinary.
The exhibition was still days away.
There were still adjustments to make.
Still wiring to check.
Still dozens of tiny details that only Powder seemed capable of noticing.
Nothing important was happening that day.
Which was exactly why the panic attack caught her off guard.
The realization struck the moment she stepped into the gallery.
Her installation stood nearly complete.
The exhibit was beautiful.
Terrifyingly beautiful.
Because people were actually going to see it.
Tomorrow.
A cold chill rushed down her spine at the very thought.
“Ekko.” She called the young man browsing through his tablet.
Ekko looked up, his braided hair tousled in place.
“Yeah?”
“What if they hate it?”
“They won’t.” He said with an understanding sigh.
They’ve been through this before. Powder often confided in him about her anxiety.
Nothing can compare to the paranoia that violated her mind since this exhibition was set in motion.
“But what if they do?” She asked as worry overtook her voice.
“They won't.”
“What if—”
“They won’t.” He said in finality.
Powder nodded yet a smile wasn’t in place.
By noon she had convinced herself every visitor would hate the exhibit.
By one o'clock she had become certain the mechanisms would fail during opening night.
By two o'clock she was positive she'd accidentally created the worst installation in Piltover history.
By three, Vi was dragging her home. Her older sister noticed how she paced in her workbench, unable to work.
The panic hadn't eased.
If anything, it got worse.
The workshop had always been her safe place.
Home had always been safe.
But now every quiet corner gave her mind room to think.
And thinking was the problem.
By the time they stepped through the front door of their home, Powder's nerves felt stretched so tight she thought they might snap.
Vi didn't ask questions.
She simply guided her toward the burgundy corduroy couch.
"Sit." She pushed the young lady’s back to the cushioned seats.
Powder sat.
"Don't move." Vi ordered.
"I'm not eight anymore, Vi!" Powder argued with her arms crossed tightly.
"Debatable."
Vi disappeared into the kitchen.
Powder glared at her retreating form.
A few minutes later the smell of garlic and onions drifted through the apartment. The smell reminding Powder of the comforting meals Vi learned how to cook for her.
Powder curled deeper into the cushions as she let nostalgia take over her senses.
The sounds were familiar.
A knife against a cutting board.
Cabinet doors opening.
Pots clattering softly.
Vi humming an old song under her breath.
The rhythm settled something inside her.
Not much but just enough to stop her rattling thoughts.
When dinner appeared, Powder stared at it blankly.
Then at Vi.
Then back at the food spread out in front of her.
"I'm not hungry." She said as she gently pushed the plated dish away.
"That's nice." Vi replied with an eyeroll. She pushed the plate closer to Powder once more.
"Eat."
Powder sighed dramatically.
Vi crossed her arms.
Powder reached for a spoonful and took a bite.
"See?" Vi said.
"I hate that you're always right." Powder grimaced.
"I know." Vi grinned at her expression.
The conversation drifted after that.
Small things.
Easy things.
Anything except the exhibition.
Anything except opening night.
Eventually, though, the fear found its way back.
"What if they're disappointed?" Powder let the worry slip out of her voice.
Vi looked up from her own plate.
"Who?"
"Everyone." She answered.
Powder placed her spoon down with a sigh. Her knees propped up to her chest, arms hugging her pale legs.
"Powder."
"I'm serious."
"I know."
Powder stared down at her food.
"What if they expect something amazing and it's just..."
She gestured helplessly with her hands.
"That."
Vi followed her gaze.
"The giant mechanical flower installation?"
"Yeah."
"The one that's already incredible?" Vi insisted encouragingly.
Powder groaned.
"Sis, you don't count!"
"Why?"
"Because you're biased."
"Damn right I am."
That earned the smallest smile from her sister.
Vi pointed her fork at her. "There it is."
"What?" Powder shook her head.
"The smile."
Powder rolled her eyes.
But she smiled again anyway.
Later, they moved to the couch.
The evening stretched quietly around them.
The house remained dark.
The city lights glowed beyond the windows.
Powder rested her head against Vi's shoulder.
For a while neither of them spoke.
Then,
"Do you think she likes flowers?" Powder started with a knowing gaze.
Vi groaned immediately.
Not this again.
"No."
"Come on, sis." Powder chimed.
"No."
"Caitlyn likes flowers, right?" She teased.
"The installation flowers? Of course. Did she not—" Vi started but was abruptly interrupted.
"No."
Powder nudged her jokingly.
"The dating flowers."
Vi dropped her head back against the couch.
"Oh my god."
"I'm serious."
"Why are you like this?" Vi exasperated.
"What if you bought her flowers on the opening night?"
"Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"Because." She reasoned, trying to rack her brain for an answer that will satisfy her infuriatingly bright sister.
"That's not a reason."
"It is."
Powder laughed ecstatically.
A real laugh this time.
The first one she'd managed all day.
Vi pointed accusingly. Her eyebrows knitted in confusion. "You did that on purpose."
"Maybe." Powder implied with a provoking grin.
"Menace."
"Love you too."
The words slipped out automatically.
Easy.
Natural.
Vi's expression softened instantly.
"Love you too, Powder."
Something in Powder's chest tightened.
Not painfully.
Just enough to remind her how truly lucky she was.
How truly lucky to have her sister like this.
The rest of the evening passed much the same.
Whenever her thoughts started spiraling uncontrollably, Vi redirected them.
Whenever she started imagining disaster, Vi grounded her, acting as her rock and anchor.
Patiently.
Repeatedly.
Without complaint.
That was just the kind of person her sister was. Has always been.
By the time midnight greeted the city of progress, exhaustion had finally begun to overpower anxiety.
Vi stretched.
Yawned.
Then stood.
"Bed." She ordered, walking to her room.
Powder nodded.
This time, she didn't argue.
They ended up tangled together on Vi's bed the way they had a thousand times growing up whenever Powder needed comfort.
Comfort that came in the form of her sister.
Some habits never disappeared.
Powder curled against her sister's side.
Vi wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
The steady rise and fall of her breathing filled the room and temporarily eased Powder..
For a while, Powder thought she might actually sleep.
Then her mind started racing again.
Opening night.
Visitors.
Critics.
Expectations.
Failure.
Success.
Failure.
Success.
Failure—
She squeezed her eyes shut.
It didn't help.
Beside her, Vi was already asleep soundly.
Completely asleep.
The kind of sleep that came only after exhaustion.
Powder carefully slipped from beneath her arm.
The room remained dark except for the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the red curtains.
She wandered aimlessly in her sister’s quarters.
Not because she was looking for anything.
Just because she couldn't sit still.
Eventually she found herself beside Vi's nightstand.
The drawer was left ajar, piquing her interest.
Powder hesitated and turned to look at the sleeping face of her sister.
Then curiosity won.
“Just a peek” she thought.
The drawer slid open without a squeak.
Inside she expected spare tools.
Maybe old photographs of their deceased parents.
Instead, the contents of the nightstand made her freeze in shock.
Blueprints.
Dozens of them.
Neatly folded.
Carefully preserved.
Powder pulled one free.
Her breath caught.
Academy admission documents.
Acceptance letters.
Scholarship offers.
Engineering programs.
Research opportunities.
Piltover Academy.
Her name wasn't on any of them.
Vi's was.
Powder stared.
Another letter.
Then another.
Then another.
Years worth of opportunities.
Years worth of dreams.
All addressed to Violet.
All declined.
Her hands started shaking.
"No." The breathy whisper escaped before she could stop it.
Beneath the letters sat older papers, yellowing at the tips.
Sketches.
Designs.
Machines.
Inventions.
Ideas.
Vi's ideas.
Not Powder's.
Not Ekko's.
Her own.
The realization hit like a tram.
Before Powder.
Before the workshop.
Before the responsibilities she took.
Vi had wanted things too.
Dreamed things too.
Wanted a future that belonged entirely to her.
Tucked beneath the final stack rested something else.
A broken metal monkey.
Powder immediately recognized it.
Her first robot.
The one she built when she was eleven.
The one she thought had been thrown away years ago.
One arm hung loose.
Paint chipped from its face.
A missing eye rattled inside its metal body.
Vi had kept it.
The sight shattered whatever composure remained.
Suddenly she couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't stop the tears.
Because hidden inside a drawer she was never meant to open sat proof of every sacrifice Vi had ever made for her, for their family.
The academy.
The inventions.
The opportunities.
The future.
All exchanged for workshop bills.
For school supplies.
For rent.
For her.
Powder clutched the broken monkey to her chest.
A quiet sob escaped her.
Then another.
Across the room Vi remained asleep. Unaware of the sobs that wracked Powder’s throat.
Powder looked toward her sister.
Toward the woman who had spent years convincing everyone she was fine.
Years pretending sacrifice was easy.
Years putting everyone else's dreams before her own.
And for the first time in a very long time, Powder cried not because she was afraid.
But because she finally understood how deeply she had always been loved.
Powder remained frozen beside the nightstand.
The broken robot trembled lightly in her hands as she cried.
The acceptance letters that were addressed to her sister.
The blueprints of what Vi could’ve made over the years if she wasn’t busy with helping powder.
The life Vi could have lived.
A life she had quietly folded away, and merely tucked inside her nightstand.
Never mentioned her own opportunities.
Never complained about shouldering Powder’s tuition.
Never used as leverage when Powder needed her.
Because that was who she was.
Powder pressed the heel of her palm against her eyes.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
The tears refused to stop immediately, but eventually they slowed.
Her breathing followed.
The panic that had consumed her all day felt different now.
Smaller.
Not gone.
Just quieter.
Because no matter what happened during opening night, she wouldn't be facing it alone.
She never had.
Carefully, Powder returned everything to the drawer exactly as she had found it.
The blueprints.
The letters.
The sketches.
The monkey.
She hesitated.
Then picked the monkey back up.
No.
That one was staying with her.
Closing the drawer softly, she crossed the room.
Vi hadn't moved.
One arm remained sprawled across the empty side of the bed where Powder had been sleeping earlier.
Even asleep, she looked tired.
Years of responsibility had carved themselves into the lines of her face.
Powder suddenly wondered how often Vi had fallen asleep worrying about bills.
About food.
About school fees.
About her.
The thought nearly started another round of tears.
Instead, she climbed carefully back into bed.
The mattress dipped beneath her weight.
Vi stirred.
A sleepy sound escaped her.
Then, without opening her eyes, she wrapped an arm around Powder's shoulders and pulled her closer.
Instinct.
Pure instinct.
Powder buried her face into Vi's shirt.
The familiar scent of machine oil and detergent surrounded her.
Safe.
Warm.
Home.
For the first time all day, her thoughts finally settled.
Tomorrow will come.
The exhibition will open tomorrow.
People would judge.
People would praise.
People would criticize.
But none of that mattered right now.
Right now, she was exactly where she needed to be.
Sleep found her soon after.
Morning arrived wrapped in sunlight.
Across Piltover, the city awakened beneath clear skies and the promise of another busy day. Trams rattled along elevated tracks. Merchants arranged goods in storefront windows. Inventors hurried toward workshops with half-finished ideas tucked beneath their arms.
At Caitlyn Kiramman’s townhouse, the day was barely over.
By several hours.
The culprit sat abandoned on her coffee table.
Three empty coffee cups.
A mountain of exhibition paperwork.
And one very dangerous train of thought about the evening she had.
Caitlyn groaned and dropped her head against the back of the couch.
This was ridiculous.
Utterly ridiculous.
She had successfully negotiated contracts worth millions of hexes.
Handled demanding donors.
Managed politicians.
Convinced an entire conservative museum board to fund a kinetic art exhibition.
Yet somehow one woman had reduced her into a pacing, overthinking mess.
The worst part?
Vi didn't even know.
Well.
Actually.
That wasn't exactly true anymore.
Heat immediately rushed into Caitlyn's face.
Vi definitely knew now.
“Oh, this is dreadful.” She spoke to herself. “How did I get myself into this mess?”
The four walls of her apartment remained unhelpfully silent. The couch offered no remedies to her calamity. The flowers that sat by the window offered even less.
She groaned in frustration.
It left her with only one option.
Jayce answered on the third ring.
“Cait?” He asked, worry dripped from his greeting.
“Hello.” She sighed in exhaustion.
A pause.
“Cait.” Jayce spoke.
“What?” Caitlyn retorted with irritation.
“Why do you sound like that, sprout?”
“Like what?”
“Like you did something wrong.”
“I’ll have you know that I have not.” Her huff heard from the other end.
Another pause.
"What happened?"
Caitlyn groaned.
Of course he knew immediately.
Jayce had possessed an alarming ability to read her since their childhood.
An unfortunate skill to have at this very moment.
One that had only improved over the years.
The sound of machinery echoed faintly through the call.
She pictured him instantly.
Somewhere in his laboratory.
Hair a mess.
Coffee cup forgotten on a nearby desk.
Entirely too comfortable.
"I need advice." She began.
Jayce laughed.
The sound was immediate but she stayed silent.
"Oh this is serious." Jayce realized the severity of the situation.
"Jayce."
"I'm listening." He affirmed.
Caitlyn took a deep breath.
Then immediately lost her nerve.
How exactly was she supposed to explain this?
Hello, brother figure.
Remember the fabricator I disliked when I first met her?
Well, that situation has become significantly more complicated.
"Cait." He repeated.
“We had sex— I had sex with Vi.” She blurted out. She could imagine the expression on Jayce’s face even without physically seeing him.
Silence remained.
Absolute silence.
Which lasted for exactly two seconds.
“You WHAT?” He exclaimed so loudly that Caitlyn pulled the device away from her ear.
“Jayce.” She whined.
“You had sex with Vi?”
“Yes.”
“When?” He prodded.
“Last night.”
“What even happened?”
A pause.
“There was a shipment issue in the loading dock.” She answered quietly.
Jayce chortled on the other end.
“A shipment issue.” He echoed.
“That’s not even the important part.” She barked out in humiliation.
Jayce’s laugh got even louder.
"It absolutely is."
"It isn't."
"Caitlyn."
She closed her eyes.
Somehow this felt worse than discussing museum finances.
Or public speaking.
Or literally anything else she has to deal with.
"It happened at the loading docks." She explained.
A pause.
“Jayce?”
Jayce Talis wheezed.
Actually wheezed.
Caitlyn covered her face in her hands in embarrassment.
“Oh my god.”
“Stop laughing!” She commanded.
“I can’t!”
“Jayce.”
“You slept with the hot mechanic.”
“She’s a fabricator.” Caitlyn corrected. It earned another bout of laughter from her brother.
She slapped her cheek.
“The hot fabricator then.”
From somewhere beyond the call she heard metal clatter.
Then a familiar voice.
Her brother’s husband.
Viktor.
"Why is Jayce laughing?" He questioned.
"Oh no."
"What?"
"Viktor's there."
The laughter from Jayce immediately intensified.
"Hello, Caitlyn."
"Hello, Viktor."
"Congratulations."
Heat flooded her face.
"I hate both of you."
"No you don't." The skinny man retorted, barely concealing his amusement.
Caitlyn sank further into the couch.
For a moment, neither man spoke.
The silence felt suspicious.
Dangerous.
Then Jayce cleared his throat.
"So." He prodded.
"No."
"You called me." He reminded her.
"I know." Caitlyn sighed.
"You wanted advice?"
Caitlyn sighed.
There it was.
The actual problem.
The reason she'd spent half the night awake.
The reason she'd been staring at her ceiling since dawn.
The reason excitement had slowly transformed into anxiety.
"The contract ends soon."
Neither man interrupted.
Which somehow made continuing harder for Caitlyn.
"The exhibition opens in less than two weeks."
Still silence.
"After that..."
She trailed off.
Because she didn't know how to finish.
After that what?
After that Vi returns to her life.
The workshop.
Powder.
Future commissions.
Future projects.
And Caitlyn...
Caitlyn returned to hers.
Museum board meetings.
New exhibitions.
New artists.
New responsibilities.
The thought left an unpleasant ache in her chest.
"What if things become strange?"
Jayce's voice softened.
"Cait."
"What if we don't know what comes next?"
"What if she regrets it?"
Jayce immediately scoffed at her question.
A dramatic scoff.
The sort usually reserved for exceptionally stupid statements.
"Have you met Vi?"
"That's not an answer."
"Caitlyn."
"It isn't." She insisted.
"Caitlyn."
She groaned.
Viktor spoke next.
Calmer.
Gentler.
More dangerous because of it.
"Do you truly believe she regrets it?" He asked.
The answer arrived immediately.
No.
Absolutely not.
She remembered Vi's smile.
The way she'd looked at her.
The way she'd held her hand.
The warmth of her jacket around her shoulders.
No.
Regret had not been present.
Fear.
Maybe.
Hope.
Definitely.
Regret?
Never.
"I don't know."
"You do."
Caitlyn hated when Viktor was right.
Which happened far too often.
"I just..."
The words caught.
Unexpectedly vulnerable.
"I don't want this to disappear."
The confession settled quietly between them.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Jayce's voice softened completely.
Gone was the teasing.
Gone was the laughter.
Only her brother remained.
"It won't, Cait."
"You don't know that."
"No." He admitted it easily. "I don't."
The honesty surprised her.
"But I do know you."
Caitlyn stared out the window.
The city stretched beyond the glass.
Bright.
Alive.
Moving.
"I know how careful you are."
Jayce continued.
"I know how much thought you put into everything."
A laugh escaped her.
That sounded suspiciously like criticism.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
The smile arrived despite herself.
Jayce continued.
"And I know you wouldn't be worrying this much if she wasn't important to you."
The words settled heavily inside her chest.
Because they were true.
Painfully true.
Vi had become important.
Far more important than Caitlyn had ever intended.
Somewhere along the way, between malfunctioning installations and coffee arguments and endless museum visits, she'd stopped being a project coordinator.
Stopped being a friend.
Stopped being a crush.
She had become someone Caitlyn genuinely couldn't imagine losing.
A dangerous realization, one she'd been avoiding for months.
"Besides." Jayce's voice brightened.
"If she survives Powder, she's clearly committed." He joked.
Caitlyn laughed.
A real laugh.
One she desperately needed this evening.
The sound echoed through the apartment.
Warm.
Comfortable.
Familiar.
For a moment she felt sixteen again.
Sitting on the Kiramman estate’s rooftops with Jayce.
Confiding in him about every fear and every dream.
Trusting him with things she couldn't tell anyone else.
Including her parents.
Especially her parents.
The memory made her smile.
"You know." Jayce began dangerously.
"I distinctly remember being the first person you came out to."
"Oh no." She rubbed her temples, worried about what he may remember of that night.
"You cried for two hours."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
"I was emotional."
"You were terrified."
Caitlyn covered her face.
"Jayce."
"You thought your parents would disown you."
"They didn't." She confirmed.
"No. They didn’t." His voice softened. "They loved you."
The warmth in her chest returned.
Different this time.
Older.
Familiar.
"You know what else happened?"
"What?"
"You survived."
She blinked.
Silence settled.
Because suddenly she understood.
This wasn't about Vi.
Not entirely.
It was about uncertainty.
About stepping into something new without knowing how it would end.
Something she'd done before.
Something she'd survived before.
Something that had ultimately led her somewhere better.
"Oh."
"There she is." Her brother cheered.
The realization made her laugh softly.
Some of the tension eased.
Not all.
But enough.
A yawn escaped before she could stop it.
Then another.
Immediately.
Both men noticed.
Unfortunately.
"Caitlyn." Viktor’s voice hardened.
"No."
"Have you gone to bed yet?"
"That's irrelevant."
"Caitlyn."
She checked the clock.
Then immediately regretted it.
"It’s very late."
Jayce groaned.
Viktor sighed.
The universal language of disappointment.
"You need sleep."
"I need work."
"No."
"I do."
"No."
"Viktor."
"Caitlyn." His voice was firm like a worried parent.
The tone left no room for negotiation. It was the same tone he used whenever Jayce forgot meals. Or skipped sleep. Or attempted something catastrophically unsafe.
Which was often.
"Your exhibition will still exist tomorrow."
"But—"
"Sleep." He commanded.
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Jayce betrayed her instantly.
"I agree with Viktor."
"Of course you do."
"He's smarter than both of us."
"Objectively true." Viktok agreed.
“He’s also my husband.”
Traitors.
Both of them.
Caitlyn rolled her eyes.
Yet another yawn escaped.
Longer this time.
The exhaustion she'd been ignoring all morning finally caught up with her.
Unfortunate.
And completely inconvenient.
"There it is." Jayce sounded entirely too pleased.
"Fine."
"Good."
"Fine."
"Go to bed."
"I'm hanging up."
"Excellent."
Caitlyn smiled despite herself.
"Thank you."
The words slipped out quietly.
Sincerely.
For the advice.
For years of unwavering support.
Jayce understood immediately.
His voice softened.
"Anytime, Cait."
The call disconnected moments later.
The apartment fell silent once more.
Caitlyn stared at her phone for several seconds.
Then toward the exhibition paperwork waiting on the coffee table.
Then toward her bedroom.
Sleep won.
As she disappeared down the hallway, sunlight continued spilling across the apartment floor.
Outside, Piltover carried on. The city of progress bustled to life, even in the night.
Inside the museum, preparations continued.
And somewhere across the city, a fabricator with pink hair was probably already awake.
The thought followed Caitlyn all the way to bed.
The last thing she remembered before sleep claimed her was a leather jacket draped over the back of a chair.
And the ridiculous smile it put on her face.
The workshop was quiet when Powder woke.
Not silent.
The workshop was never silent.
Somewhere downstairs, pipes groaned inside the walls. Rain tapped gently against the windows. A clock ticked from the other side of the room.
Familiar sounds.
Home.
Powder stared at the ceiling.
Then at the sleeping figure beside her.
Vi was sprawled across the mattress exactly as she always slept. One arm thrown above her head. The blanket tangled hopelessly around her waist. Her face softened by sleep in a way few people ever got to witness.
Powder's chest tightened.
The nightstand sat beside the bed now closed. As though it hadn't changed everything.
She swallowed. "Vi."
Nothing.
A grunt.
"Vi." One blue eye opened.
Then the other.
"...Something on fire?"
Powder laughed through the thickness in her throat. "No."
"Exploded?"
"No."
Vi buried her face deeper into the pillow. "Then it's too early, Powder."
Powder stared then reached over and smacked her arm.
"Ow."
"Wake up."
"Rude."
Despite her complaints, Vi rolled onto her back. A yawn escaped her.
"What is it, Powder?"
The question was casual.
Normal.
Like nothing had happened. Like Powder hadn't spent half the night crying over folded acceptance letters and worn blueprints.
Her eyes drifted toward the nightstand.
Vi followed the look and immediately froze.
Silence settled between them.
Heavy.
Understanding.
"Oh."
That single word carried years behind it.
Powder nodded.
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Rain continued tapping softly against the glass.
Finally Vi rubbed the back of her neck.
"You weren't supposed to see that."
Powder laughed weakly. "I figured."
Another silence.
The kind only family could survive. The kind built from years rather than minutes.
"You got in." Powder whispered.
Vi blinked.
"What?"
"The Academy." Powder's voice cracked. "You got accepted."
Vi looked away and that hurt more than if she'd answered.
Powder sat up, the blanket pooled around her lap. "You never told me."
Vi's jaw tightened.
"There wasn't much to tell."
"Vi."
"There wasn't." The response came too quickly.
Too rehearsed.
Powder recognized it immediately.
The same voice Vi used whenever she was pretending something didn't matter.
The same voice she used whenever she was hurting.
"You wanted it."
Vi looked at the ceiling.
Anywhere except Powder.
The answer arrived in the silence.
Powder felt tears sting her eyes again.
"You wanted it."
This time it wasn't a question.
Years suddenly rearranged themselves inside her head.
Late nights.
Extra jobs.
Missed opportunities.
Every time Vi had said no.
Every sacrifice she never talked about.
Not because she didn't care but because she cared too much.
Powder's voice dropped. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Vi smiled.
Small.
Sad.
"Because you were ten." The answer shattered something inside her.
Honest.
True.
"You were building robots from scrap metal."
Vi laughed softly. "You kept setting stuff on fire."
"Only sometimes."
"Most of the time."
Powder's eyes watered.
Vi continued staring upward. "I made a choice."
"You shouldn't have had to." The words escaped before she could stop them.
For the first time that morning, Vi looked at her.
Really looked.
"I know."
Silence.
Rain.
The distant hum of the city waking outside.
Powder wiped furiously at her face.
"I found the monkey pieces."
Vi groaned. "Oh no."
"I found the drawings."
"Powder."
"I found your acceptance letter."
"Powder."
"I found your tuition estimate."
"Okay, that one hurts."
Despite herself, Powder laughed. A wet, miserable laugh.
Vi smiled.
There she was.
Her sister.
Still trying to make everyone else feel better.
Even now.
Especially now.
Powder took a shaky breath.
Then another.
"Do you know what's really unfair?"
Vi eyed her suspiciously.
"What?"
"You would've been incredible."
The room went still.
Vi stopped smiling.
Powder pressed forward.
Because nobody ever said it. Nobody ever seemed to realize.
"You would've been amazing there." Her voice trembled. "You would've built things."
"Powder—"
"No." She shook her head. "I'm serious."
Years of gratitude sat heavy inside her chest. Years of things left unsaid.
"You would've been one of the best."
Vi looked away again. This time it wasn't avoidance.
It looked dangerously close to emotion.
Powder suddenly understood.
People always called Vi strong.
Reliable.
Dependable.
They thanked her.
Needed her.
Leaned on her.
But nobody told her she could've been great.
That she already was.
Tears gathered in Vi's eyes.
Almost invisible.
Powder saw them anyway.
"Hey."
Vi cleared her throat.
"Don't."
"You are."
A watery laugh escaped Vi. "You're really trying to make me cry before breakfast?"
"It's working."
"Rude."
Powder smiled.
For a moment they simply looked at one another.
Two sisters.
Two survivors.
Two people who had spent years carrying each other forward.
Then Powder shifted closer and rested her head against Vi's shoulder.
Immediately.
Instinctively.
Like she had done since childhood.
Vi wrapped an arm around her.
Equally automatic and equally familiar.
"I love you, sis." The words came muffled against her shoulder.
Vi kissed the top of her head. "I love you too."
Powder closed her eyes as the rain continued lamenting outside.
It felt comforting.
After a while she spoke again.
Quietly.
"Maybe it's not too late."
Vi snorted. "There it is."
"I'm serious."
"For what?"
"The Academy."
Powder tilted her head upward. "You still have all the blueprints."
Vi barked out a laugh. "The exhibit opens tonight."
"So?"
"So I'm busy."
"Coward."
Vi gasped dramatically. "Unbelievable."
Powder grinned.
Vi rolled her eyes but she was smiling.
And somehow that felt like hope.
The National Museum of Piltover had never looked quite like this before.
Even before stepping inside, guests could hear music spilling from the open doors.
String quartets played beneath the marble archways. Museum attendants moved through the crowd carrying silver trays. Journalists, Academy professors, investors, artists, and socialites filled the front steps in a sea of conversation and expensive clothing.
The opening night banner hung above them all.
MECHANICAL BLOOMS:
AN EXHIBITION BY POWDER
For a moment, Vi simply stared at it.
Her boots had barely touched the museum steps before she found herself frozen.
The banner swayed gently in the evening breeze.
Powder's name stretched across six feet of embroidered fabric.
Large enough for the entire city to see.
Years ago, Powder had written her name on scraps of paper and taped them beside broken inventions.
Now it hung above one of the most prestigious museums in Piltover.
Vi swallowed hard.
"Pretty cool, huh?"
Ekko appeared beside her.
For once, he looked nervous.
Not scared.
Not anxious.
Just overwhelmed.
Vi smiled.
"Yeah."
Her voice sounded smaller than expected.
"Pretty cool."
The crowd parted behind them.
Powder emerged from a carriage looking seconds away from passing out.
Her blue hair had been braided back for the evening. Small metal flowers decorated the plaits. The navy dress she wore still carried subtle grease stains along one sleeve despite Caitlyn's team's best efforts.
Powder immediately spotted the banner.
Then froze.
Exactly like Vi had.
"Oh."
The word escaped quietly.
For several seconds she simply stared.
Then tears appeared.
"Pow."
"Nope."
"Pow."
"Nope."
She pointed aggressively at her face.
"I'm not crying."
"You literally are."
"I'm having a visual reaction."
Ekko barked out a laugh.
Vi reached over and wiped beneath Powder's eye.
The younger woman sniffed, then looked at the banner again and immediately started crying harder.
"Oh my god."
"There she is." Powder smacked Vi's arm which only made everyone laugh.
For a brief moment, the nerves disappeared then the museum doors opened.
The exhibition officially began.
And everything changed.
Inside, the gallery glowed.
Soft amber lighting illuminated pathways through the mechanical garden. Visitors moved carefully between installations, their conversations becoming quieter the deeper they traveled into the exhibit.
The flowers responded immediately.
Lilies unfurled.
Orchids turned toward passing guests.
Copper wisteria swayed gently beneath laughter.
Children darted between displays while exhausted parents chased after them.
Everywhere Vi looked, people had stopped.
Not because they were confused but because they were captivated.
A little girl stood beneath the silver orchids with her mouth hanging open.
An elderly couple held hands while watching the hummingbirds.
A group of Academy students argued excitedly beside one of Ekko's engineering displays.
People weren't walking through the exhibit.
They were experiencing it.
Exactly like Caitlyn had predicted.
Vi spotted her standing near the entrance.
Naturally.
Caitlyn looked entirely in her element.
Caitlyn wore a deep blue dress that moved cleanly with her every step, elegant enough for the museum and practical enough to survive the chaos of opening night. A clipboard remained tucked beneath one arm while museum staff continuously approached with questions.
She answered every single one.
Calmly.
Effortlessly.
The gallery moved around her like a machine.
Vi couldn't help smiling.
Of course she was still working.
Caitlyn suddenly glanced up.
Their eyes met across the room.
For a second.
Only a second.
Something warm settled in Vi's chest.
Then another staff member intercepted Caitlyn and the moment disappeared.
Probably for the best.
Tonight wasn't about them.
Tonight belonged to Powder.
And apparently Ekko too.
"Wait."
Vi turned to face the young man who seemed to be surrounded. Three Academy researchers had cornered the younger inventor beside his hoverboard display. One of them looked horrified.
"You're telling me it runs on algae?"
Ekko nodded proudly. "Among other things."
"That's ridiculous."
"It works."
"It shouldn't."
"It does." The professor looked ready to argue further.
Then glanced at the hovering board.
He sighed heavily. "I hate that you're right."
Ekko looked insufferably pleased with himself.
Vi laughed.
Across the room, Jayce nearly looked ready to burst from pride. Beside him, Viktor appeared considerably more composed. Though the faint smile on his face suggested otherwise.
"Your students did well." Viktor's quiet observation carried over the crowd.
Jayce beamed. "I know."
Nearby, Cassandra and Tobias Kiramman examined the installations with genuine interest. Unlike many wealthy patrons, they weren't treating the exhibit like a social obligation.
They were looking.
Really looking.
Tobias spent nearly ten minutes studying a cluster of mechanical lilies.
Cassandra remained beneath the orchids.
Watching them turn toward the skylight.
Eventually she approached Caitlyn.
Vi couldn't hear the conversation.
Only see it.
Cassandra spoke.
Caitlyn listened.
Then smiled.
Proud.
Whatever her mother said caused something to soften in her expression.
For the rest of the evening, the crowd never slowed. Three hours passed almost without notice. The gallery remained full throughout the evening. Journalists conducted interviews. Artists exchanged business cards. Investors approached Powder with potential opportunities. Academy representatives requested meetings. Museum patrons praised the exhibit.
Everywhere Vi looked, people were talking about the work.
About Powder.
About what came next.
For years, Vi had worried the world would overlook her sister's brilliance.
Tonight proved otherwise.
The world had finally noticed.
Eventually the crowd began thinning. One by one, guests drifted toward the exits. The music faded. Conversations grew quieter. Museum staff started clearing empty glasses and folding event signage.
Powder stood near the center of the gallery.
Looking overwhelmed but happier than Vi had ever seen her.
The mechanical flowers continued blooming around her.
Alive.
Beautiful.
Recognized.
Vi approached slowly.
Powder turned and their eyes met.
Neither spoke.
Neither needed to.
Everything sat between them already.
The years.
The sacrifices.
The failures.
The victories.
Tonight.
Finally,
It had been worth it.
Powder smiled first, it was real, it was the kind she wore whenever she forgot to be afraid.
Vi smiled back then wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Together they watched the last visitors leave.
And somewhere across the gallery, Caitlyn Kiramman quietly began closing out the final paperwork of a contract that had changed all of their lives.
The last guests left the museum slowly.
A final group of Academy students lingered near Ekko’s display, still arguing about power sources even as attendants politely guided them toward the exit. A few artists stood a little too long in front of the mechanical orchids, as if trying to memorize the way they moved. Someone in the corner laughed once more at a joke already fading into memory.
Then the doors closed and the museum exhaled.
Silence didn’t arrive immediately but rather it gathered.
Footsteps softened into distance. Voices dissolved behind marble walls. The echo of the evening slowly unthreaded itself from the space until all that remained was the faint mechanical breathing of the exhibit itself.
Flowers still moved.
Even without an audience.
Steel lilies turned toward empty air.
Copper wisteria swayed in a breeze no longer disturbed by conversation.
The garden did not know it was finished performing.
Vi stayed where she was for a long moment, her hands buried in her pockets. Shoulders still half-raised like she was waiting for something else to happen.
Powder had drifted off earlier with Ekko and Jayce, something about investors and future commissions and promises she was too excited to properly finish explaining.
Caitlyn, however, remained.
Of course she did.
Vi found her near the center of the gallery, standing beside the mechanical blue lilies.. The same place she had first seen them move.
Caitlyn had removed her clipboard. That alone felt significant.
No staff surrounded her now.
No interruptions lingered just out of frame.
Just her.
And the exhibit.
Vi approached quietly, her boots sounded louder than she expected in the emptiness.
Caitlyn didn’t turn immediately, she was watching the flowers and the way they rotated slowly toward the skylight. Like they were still searching for light even after it had already dimmed.
“I thought I’d find you still working,” Vi said at last.
Caitlyn gave a faint hum. “I finished.”
A pause.
Then, softer.
“There is nothing left that requires fixing.”
Vi exhaled a small laugh. “Sounds like a dream.”
Caitlyn finally turned and for a moment, neither of them spoke.
Without the crowd, without the noise, without the expectation of professionalism or roles or contracts, the space between them felt different.
More honest.
Caitlyn’s expression held something Vi hadn’t seen all night.
Not composure or confidence.
It was something closer to uncertainty.
Vi noticed it immediately which meant Caitlyn had already lost the advantage.
“That was…” Caitlyn started but paused mid-sentence.
“Successful.”
Vi snorted. “That’s one word for it.”
Caitlyn’s mouth twitched like she wanted to smile but wasn’t entirely sure she was allowed. “I don’t usually underestimate outcomes,” she said. “But I think I did, slightly, in this case.”
“People liked it.”
“They didn’t just like it.” Caitlyn glanced back at the exhibit. “They stayed.” That seemed to matter more than anything else she could have said.
Vi followed her gaze. The mechanical garden continued its quiet motion.
Alive without witnesses.
“Powder’s gonna be insufferable for weeks,” Vi muttered.
A real smile finally appeared on Caitlyn’s face. “I believe she has earned that right.”
Silence settled again.
Not uncomfortable.
Just heavy in a different way. It was the kind that came after something ended, even if no one had agreed it was over.
Caitlyn folded her hands loosely in front of her.
Vi noticed they were slightly tense.
“I didn’t think I would feel this..” Caitlyn hesitated. Her eyes lowered briefly before lifting again. “Relieved.”
Vi tilted her head. “Relieved?”
Caitlyn nodded once. “I expected the responsibility of it to continue indefinitely. That there would always be another revision. Another adjustment. Another reason to stay within the structure of it.”
Her gaze drifted across the empty gallery. “But it is finished.”
The word sounded strange coming from her. like she wasn’t used to things ending cleanly.
Vi leaned back against a nearby column. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “It’s finished.”
Another pause that was longer this time.
The flowers perched on trellises rotated above them, slowly and patiently. They were unbothered voyeurs to the pair.
Caitlyn spoke again, softer.
“And yet I find myself wondering what comes next.”
Vi looked at her, really looked at the woman unfolding in front of her.
Not at the curator.
Not at the Kiramman heir.
Not at the voice that had commanded rooms all night.
Just her.
“What do you mean?” Vi asked.
Caitlyn’s breath caught slightly before she answered.
“The contract is over.” The words landed carefully.
Like she had been holding them back for hours and only now decided they were allowed to exist.
Vi blinked once then frowned. “That’s it?”
Caitlyn nodded. “It was always temporary.”
The silence that followed felt different.
Vi pushed off the column. “Okay,” she said slowly. “So we find another one.”
Caitlyn looked at her and there it was, the problem. Her face was flooded with an emotion that was not confusion or disagreement but fear.
“I don’t know if there will be another one,” Caitlyn said.
Vi stared. “That’s not how things work.”
Caitlyn let out a quiet breath. “Vi, In my world, it often is.” That landed harder than intended.
She looked away for a second, jaw tightening. “Right,” she muttered. “Piltover logic.”
Caitlyn didn’t respond as the space between them filled with everything neither of them knew how to say cleanly.
Vi scratched the back of her neck. “This isn’t…” she started.
“This doesn’t have to be the end of anything.”
Caitlyn’s eyes lifted and for the first time all night, her composure cracked. “What if it is for me?” she asked quietly.
The question wasn’t defensive or sharp. It was honest.
And that made it worse.
Vi froze.
Caitlyn continued before she could stop herself. “I don’t know what I am without structure. Without purpose. Without something defined. This…” she gestured faintly at the empty space between them, “This was defined.”
Her hand dropped. “And now it is not.”
Vi exhaled slowly. For once, she didn’t have a joke.
She stepped closer to Caitlyn’s quivering form.
“Hey,” she said quietly.
Caitlyn looked at her with uncertainty.
“I don’t know what comes next either.” That admission hung there unpolished and unarmored.
Vi exhaled through her nose, almost a laugh. “I spent my whole life just trying to make sure things didn’t fall apart,” she said. “Turns out I’m not great at the part after they don’t.”
Caitlyn’s gaze softened slightly.
Vi continued. “So yeah. I get it. Not knowing what happens next.”
“But I think… we’re allowed to figure it out.”
Caitlyn’s breath trembled slightly. “You say that as if it is simple.”
“It’s not.” Vi shook her head. “It’s just possible.” she continued.
That word shifted something in the room.
Caitlyn looked down for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above the sound of the machinery. “And if we cannot?”
Vi’s answer came immediately. “Then we try anyway.”
Caitlyn finally looked up. Her eyes were bright in a way Vi hadn’t seen before.
“You are very frustrating,” Caitlyn said softly.
Vi let out a quiet laugh.
“Yeah. I’ve been told.”
Caitlyn stepped forward then and closed the distance between them.
Her voice dropped. “I do not want this to end,” she admitted.
Vi’s chest tightened.
“Then don’t let it,” she said.
Caitlyn shook her head slightly. “It is not that simple, Vi.”
“I know but I’m still here.”
Caitlyn held her gaze.
For a long time.
The patch of roses behind them chimed and the museum remained still around them. And for the first time since everything began, neither of them were running toward anything else.
Caitlyn exhaled slowly.
“I need time,” she said.
Vi nodded immediately.
“Okay.”
Another beat.
Caitlyn’s voice softened further “And I need to know you will not disappear.”
“Not happening.” Vi promised and a small, almost broken exhale from Caitlyn that might have been relief.
Vi’s gaze dropped to Caitlyn’s mouth before she could stop herself. The air between them thickened with tension.
The space between them vanished in a single, trembling breath.
Vi’s lips caught hers in a frenzy.
It was the kind of kiss that came from weeks of being so close to each other but oceans away. It was the kind that forced surrender in one unbearable evening of finally admitting they were both standing at the edge of something neither of them knew how to name.
Caitlyn made a soft whimper against her mouth, startled at the sudden kiss.
Her hand rose to Vi’s sleeve.
Vi kissed her again, much slower this time, memorizing the shape of her lips and the taste of her mouth.
When they finally parted, both were breathing too hard.
The museum felt impossibly still.
Vi rested her forehead against Caitlyn’s, eyes closed as beads of sweat travelled down her neck.
Then she pulled back just enough to look at her. “Come home with me.” Vi uttered, the words came out rough.
Caitlyn’s eyes searched for even a hint of hesitation, for anything less than the truth for which she found none. “Vi,” she said softly, and there was so much in it that Vi’s chest tightened.
“What?” Vi asked, her voice gently coaxing the other.
“What about your sister? Powder?”
Vi let out a breath that resembled a laugh. “Don’t worry about Powder.”
Caitlyn’s brows lifted sporadically.
“She’s gonna be too busy bragging about the exhibit to even notice where I am.”
“Hey,” she said, thumb brushing lightly along Caitlyn’s hand. “I mean it. Come home with me.”
Caitlyn looked at her for a long moment. “Tonight?” She asked quietly.
Vi nodded.
“Tonight.” The answer seemed to settle something in Caitlyn’s expression.
“Alright.”
Vi’s smile broke open then, sudden and bright and disbelieving all at once. “Yeah?”
Caitlyn’s mouth curved, small and trembling.
“Yes.”
Vi kissed her again, shorter this time, but no less certain.
When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against Caitlyn’s once more.
“Good,” she murmured.
The silence in Vi's apartment was a living thing.
It wasn't empty; it was filled with the echo of the exhibition, the ghosts of words left unsaid, and the electric thrum of everything they were about to become.
The door had clicked shut behind them, a sound that had sealed them in, separated them from the rest of Piltover and the Lanes, from duty and expectation.
Now, there was only this. Only them.
Vi didn't move first. She stood by the door, her silhouette stark against the hazy orange light from the streetlamp outside. Her hands were shoved in her pockets, a posture Caitlyn knew well—self-contained, guarded. But her eyes, when Caitlyn finally met them, were anything but. They were raw, stripped of all their usual bravado, holding a vulnerability that made Caitlyn's breath catch.
It was Caitlyn who crossed the space. Three steps and she was there, her fingers tentative as they brushed against Vi's suit jacket. She didn't speak. She simply let her touch say what her throat felt too tight to articulate.
I'm here. I'm not leaving.
Vi's breath hitched, a sharp, audible sound in the quiet room.
Her hands emerged from her pockets, not to push Caitlyn away, but to cup her face. Her thumbs were rough, calloused from years of working in the shop, but their movement over Caitlyn's cheekbones was impossibly gentle.
It was a caress that held the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies.
"Cait," Vi whispered, her voice hoarse, cracking on the single syllable.
That was all it took.
The dam broke.
Caitlyn surged forward, crashing her lips against Vi's.
It wasn't a kiss of gentle discovery; it was a desperate, hungry collision of months of longing, of regret, of undeniable, terrifying love. Vi met her with equal fervor, her hands sliding into Caitlyn's hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss.
She tasted of cheap whiskey and something uniquely Vi, and Caitlyn wanted to drown in it.
Clothes became obstacles, a frantic race to feel skin on skin. Vi's jacket hit the floor with a soft thud, followed by Caitlyn's tailored blazer. The buttons on Vi's shirt popped off, skittering across the wooden floorboards, a casualty of Caitlyn's impatience.
They stumbled towards the bed, a tangled mess of limbs and ragged breaths, falling onto the mattress in a heap of tangled sheets and raw need.
Vi was above her, her forearms braced on either side of Caitlyn's head, her muscles taut and quivering with the effort of holding herself back. She looked down at Caitlyn, her expression a maelstrom of hunger and reverence.
"I'm gonna take my time with you, Cupcake," Vi murmured, her voice a low growl that vibrated through Caitlyn's entire body. "Gonna worship every inch of you."
And she did.
She started with Caitlyn's neck, her lips tracing a searing path down the column of her throat, her teeth scraping gently over her pulse point. Caitlyn arched into the touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
Vi's hands were everywhere, mapping her body with a worshiper's devotion. She traced the curve of Caitlyn's waist, the dip of her hip, the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She was slow, deliberate, her touch both a tease and a promise.
When Vi's tongue finally found her, Caitlyn cried out, her back arching off the bed. Vi was skilled, her movements confident and precise. She knew exactly how to drive Caitlyn to the edge, how to hold her there, suspended in a state of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
She used her tongue, her lips, her fingers, a symphony of sensation that had Caitlyn writhing beneath her, her hands fisted in the sheets, her head thrown back in ecstasy.
"Vi, please," Caitlyn begged, her voice a breathless whimper. "Please."
"Please what, Cupcake?" Vi murmured against her, her voice a low, teasing growl that sent a fresh wave of arousal through her. Her fingers, which had been tracing idle patterns on Caitlyn's inner thigh, began to drift higher.
"You," Caitlyn gasped, the word torn from her as Vi's thumb circled her clit. "All of you. I need..."
Vi didn't need her to finish. A slow, predatory smile graced her lips, a sight that made Caitlyn's stomach clench with anticipation. She kissed her way back up Caitlyn's body, her lips lingering on her stomach, the valley between her breasts, her collarbone. Her other hand, the one not currently working magic between Caitlyn's legs, came up to palm a breast, her thumb and forefinger rolling a hardened nipple into a tight peak.
"So responsive," Vi praised, her voice a husky whisper. She shifted, her weight settling more firmly between Caitlyn's thighs.
"Please what, Cupcake?" Vi murmured against her, her voice a low, teasing growl.
"You," Caitlyn gasped, the word torn from her. "All of you."
Vi didn't need her to finish. A slow, predatory smile graced her lips, a sight that made Caitlyn's stomach clench with anticipation. She lowered her head, but instead of the kiss Caitlyn expected, she began a slow, reverent descent. Her lips were a brand, searing a path down Caitlyn's body.
She took her time with Caitlyn's breasts, her movements unhurried. She didn't just suckle; she paid homage. Her lips closed around a pebbled nipple, her tongue swirling in a slow, maddening circle that had Caitlyn arching off the bed, a soft gasp escaping her. Her fingers pinched the other, rolling it gently, perfectly, sending twin sparks of pleasure shooting through her.
"Vi," Caitlyn whispered, her hands finding their way into Vi's short, messy hair. The strands were soft between her fingers, a stark contrast to the hard, muscular lines of Vi's back.
"Shh," Vi hushed her, releasing her breast with a soft, wet pop. "Let me. Just let me."
She continued her downward journey, her lips tracing the delicate line of Caitlyn's ribcage, her tongue dipping into her navel. Caitlyn's breath hitched, her stomach muscles clenching in anticipation. Vi settled between her thighs, her hands gently pushing them wider, opening her up completely.
The vulnerability was staggering, but in Vi's gaze, there was no judgment, only a deep, abiding hunger that was laced with an overwhelming tenderness.
She didn't dive in immediately.
She took a moment, her gaze drinking in the sight of her, flushed and wet and wanting.
Then, she leaned in, her breath a warm ghost against Caitlyn's most sensitive flesh. The first touch of her tongue was a revelation. It was a slow, deliberate swipe, a single, broad stroke that had Caitlyn seeing stars.
Vi was a virtuoso, and Caitlyn's body was her instrument. She played her with a skill that bordered on the divine. Her tongue was a masterful thing, alternating between broad, flat licks and the precise, flicking tip that circled her clit without ever quite touching it. She was building the tension, winding Caitlyn tighter and tighter, a coil of pleasure ready to snap.
Caitlyn's hips began to move of their own accord, a helpless, desperate rocking against Vi's mouth. Her hands fisted in the sheets, her knuckles white. Soft, breathy moans filled the room, the only sounds besides the wet, rhythmic movements of Vi's mouth and the thunderous pounding of her own heart.
"Vi, please," Caitlyn begged, her voice a ragged, breathless thing. "Please, don't stop."
Vi responded with a low, vibrating hum that sent a shockwave of pleasure through her. She brought her fingers into play, one tracing the slick entrance to her body, circling, teasing, before slowly, agonizingly, sinking inside.
"Fuck," Caitlyn cried out, her back bowing off the bed.
The dual sensation was intoxicating.
Vi's tongue on her clit, her fingers curling inside her, stroking that secret, sensitive spot that made her whole body tremble.
"You like that, Cupcake?" Vi murmured against her, her voice a low, husky growl. "Like my fingers inside you?"
Caitlyn could only nod, her mind too fogged with pleasure to form a coherent response. Vi began to move her fingers, a slow, deliberate in-and-out rhythm that matched the movements of her tongue. She was relentless, her pace steady, unyielding, pushing Caitlyn closer and closer to the edge.
The pleasure built, a slow, creeping fire that started in her toes and spread upwards, consuming her from the inside out. She could feel the tension coiling in her stomach, a tightening, a gathering storm. Vi seemed to sense it, her movements becoming more focused, more determined. She curled her fingers, a 'come-hither' motion that hit her G-spot with unerring accuracy, and sucked her clit into her mouth, her tongue flicking against it in a rapid, staccato rhythm.
The world fractured. A choked sob tore from Caitlyn's throat as the orgasm crashed over her, a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated bliss. Her vision went white, her body arching into a rigid bow, every muscle straining. Vi didn't stop, she worked her through it, her tongue and fingers milking every last drop of pleasure from her trembling body until Caitlyn collapsed, boneless and gasping, against the sweat-damp sheets.
Vi placed one last, gentle kiss on her oversensitive flesh before making her way back up Caitlyn's body. She hovered over her, her face glistening with Caitlyn's arousal, a look of profound satisfaction on her face.
"God, you're beautiful when you come," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
She leaned down and kissed Caitlyn, deep and slow, letting her taste herself on Vi's lips.
It was an intimate, possessive act, and it sent a fresh wave of desire through Caitlyn's already sated body.
Vi reached over to the nightstand, the drawer groaning as she pulled it open.
The click of the buckles on the harness was a sharp, metallic counterpoint to their ragged breathing. Caitlyn watched, her heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. She'd never seen Vi wear it before. This time everything was different.
Vi knelt between her legs, the toy jutting from her hips, a silicone promise of the fullness to come. She reached for the bottle of lube, coating the strap with a slick, generous layer. Her movements were sure, practiced, but her eyes, when they met Caitlyn's, were soft, questioning.
"Ready for me, Cupcake?" Vi asked, her voice low.
Caitlyn could only nod, her throat too tight to form words.
Vi lined herself up, the tip of the toy nudging against Caitlyn's entrance. She pushed in slowly, carefully, her eyes fixed on Caitlyn's face, watching for any sign of discomfort. The stretch was exquisite, a slow burn that quickly morphed into a deep, satisfying ache, a feeling of being utterly and completely claimed.
"Fuck, you feel so good," Vi groaned, her hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm once she was fully sheathed. "So tight and perfect."
Caitlyn moaned, her hands gripping Vi's arms, her nails digging into her biceps. Vi's movements were measured at first, a controlled, deliberate rhythm that had Caitlyn seeing stars.
She was hitting that spot deep inside her, the one her fingers had just primed, a place that made her toes curl and her breath catch. This was the first position. Caitlyn on her back, legs spread wide, Vi settled between them, her body a solid, comforting weight.
"Is it really that good, cupcake?" Vi panted, her movements growing faster, more forceful as Caitlyn's hips began to rise to meet her thrusts. "You're shaking."
"It's like you get better and better every time," Caitlyn managed, the words half-moan, half-confession.
It was true.
Every touch, every thrust felt imbued with a new meaning, a new layer of love that made the pleasure almost unbearable in its intensity.
Vi smiled, a genuine, unguarded smile that made Caitlyn's heart ache. She leaned down, her lips brushing against Caitlyn's ear. "I missed fucking you."
"I missed you," Caitlyn whispered back, the words spilling out, unbidden, true. "I love you."
The confession hung in the air between them, fragile and devastatingly honest. Vi froze, her hips stilling.
She pulled back, her eyes searching Caitlyn's face, her expression a mixture of shock and a dawning, hopeful wonder.
"Say it again," she whispered, her voice hoarse.
"I love you, Vi," Caitlyn said, her voice steady, her heart pounding in her chest.
Vi's composure finally shattered.
A choked sob escaped her lips, and she buried her face in Caitlyn's neck, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. She didn't say it back, not yet. But she didn't have to. Caitlyn could feel it in the way Vi held her, in the desperate, clinging way her arms wrapped around her, in the way her body trembled against hers.
After a moment, Vi pulled back, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She kissed Caitlyn then, a deep, tender kiss that was a world away from their earlier frantic collision. It was a kiss of acceptance, of reciprocation. When she finally pulled away, her forehead rested against Caitlyn's.
"I love you too, Cait," Vi whispered against her lips. "So much."
She began to move again, her hips rolling in a slow, deliberate rhythm that was less about fucking and more about connecting. It was a declaration, a promise, a homecoming. But the tenderness soon gave way to a deeper need. Vi's thrusts became harder, deeper, her hands gripping Caitlyn's hips, pulling her onto the strap with possessive force. The bedframe began to creak in protest, the wet, rhythmic slap of their bodies filling the small room.
Caitlyn was lost in a haze of sensation, her body a vessel for Vi's passion, for her love.
Then, Vi shifted.
She pulled out, leaving Caitlyn feeling achingly empty for a moment before she was being manhandled with surprising gentleness. "Turn over," Vi commanded, her voice a low growl. "On your stomach."
Caitlyn complied, her limbs feeling like liquid. Vi grabbed a pillow, shoving it under Caitlyn's hips, angling her perfectly.
This was the second position. Caitlyn on her knees, her face pressed into the mattress, her back arched. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but when Vi entered her from behind, the new angle allowed her to go deeper than before, hitting that spot again and again with unerring accuracy. The pleasure was sharper this time, more intense. It bordered on pain, a delicious ache that spread through her entire body.
"You can be louder than that," Vi growled, her hands gripping Caitlyn's hips, her movements relentless.
The sound of skin meeting skin was loud, almost violent, but it was the most beautiful music Caitlyn had ever heard.
"Make me," Caitlyn challenged, her face pressed into the pillow, her moans muffled. It was a dare, a plea, an invitation.
And Vi did. She drove into her, her movements hard and fast, a brutal, beautiful rhythm. One of her hands left Caitlyn's hip, tangling in her hair, pulling her head back just enough.
"I wanna hear you, Cupcake. Let me hear how much you love this."
The command, combined with the sharp tug on her hair, shattered what little control Caitlyn had left. A loud, broken cry tore from her throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
She was so close, so incredibly close, her body coiling tight like a spring.
But Vi wasn't finished with her yet. She slowed her pace, her thrusts becoming long, deep, and deliberate. She leaned over Caitlyn's back, her chest pressing against her, her lips finding the sensitive skin behind her ear. "You look so good like this," she murmured, her voice a hot puff of air. "Taking my cock so well."
Caitlyn whimpered, her hips pushing back against Vi, seeking more, needing more. She was oversensitive now, every thrust sending jolts of almost-painful pleasure through her. She began to push back at Vi's hips with her hands, a silent plea for a reprieve, a moment to breathe.
"Vi," she whimpered, her body trembling. "It's too much."
Vi understood.
She didn't stop, not completely.
Instead, she shifted her weight, one arm bracing herself on the bed while her other hand snaked around Caitlyn's hip. Her fingers found Caitlyn's clit, swollen and sensitive. She began to rub it in tight, fast circles, matching the rhythm of her hips.
"Come on, Cupcake," Vi coaxed, her voice a low, husky whisper. "One more. Give me one more for me."
The dual stimulation was too much.
It was a perfect storm of sensation, a pleasure so intense it was agony. Caitlyn's body went rigid, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as she came harder than ever before, her vision whiting out, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm.
She collapsed onto the bed, completely spent, her body limp and pliant. Vi carefully pulled out and pulled Caitlyn into her arms. She held her close, her hand stroking Caitlyn's hair that was now a mess, her lips pressing soft kisses against her forehead. They lay in comfortable silence for a long while, the only sounds their slowing heartbeats and the distant hum of the city. Caitlyn felt like she was floating, anchored only by the solid weight of Vi's arm around her.
But then, she felt a shift.
Vi's hands began to roam again, not with the desperate hunger from before, but with a lazy, possessive gentleness. She nipped at Caitlyn's shoulder, her tongue soothing the small sting.
"You're not done, are you?" Vi murmured, her voice a low, contented rumble.
Caitlyn shook her head, a slow, sleepy movement. She wasn't. A deep, thrumming need still pulsed within her, a steady ache that only Vi could soothe.
"Good," Vi said, a smirk in her voice. "Because I'm not finished with you yet." She rolled onto her back. "Come here. I want you to ride me."
A fresh wave of arousal washed over Caitlyn, hot and swift. She pushed herself up, her muscles protesting, and swung a leg over Vi's hips. Vi guided her down, her hands on Caitlyn's waist, the toy sinking into her with a slow, delicious stretch.
This was the third position, and it felt like the most intimate.
Caitlyn was in control, setting the pace, her hands braced on Vi's chest. She could see everything: the way Vi's eyes darkened with pleasure, the way her jaw clenched, the rise and fall of her chest.
Caitlyn started to move, a slow, rolling rhythm that had them both moaning. She ground her hips, taking Vi deep, her head falling back in ecstasy. Vi's hands roamed her body, from her breasts to her hips, her grip a reassuring, grounding presence.
"That's it, Cupcake," Vi praised, her voice husky. "Just like that. Fuck, you look so good on top of me."
Caitlyn's movements grew faster, more desperate. She chased her release, her body moving with an instinct all its own. But her limbs were heavy, her muscles weak from her previous orgasms. She began to falter, her rhythm breaking, a frustrated whimper escaping her lips.
Vi sensed her struggle. "I got you," she whispered, her hands tightening on Caitlyn's hips. "Trust me."
In one fluid, powerful motion, Vi sat up, wrapping her arms around Caitlyn's waist and lifting her. Caitlyn gasped, her arms automatically wrapping around Vi's neck. Vi held her effortlessly, her feet planted firmly on the mattress for leverage. She began to thrust up into her, a slow, deep, lazy rhythm.
This wasn't the frantic, desperate fucking from before. This was something else entirely. It was a loving, unhurried pace, a deep, claiming rhythm that was designed to draw out her pleasure, to make it last.
Caitlyn buried her face in Vi's neck, her body pliant in Vi's strong arms. She was completely at Vi's mercy, and she had never felt safer. This was what she had been missing, what she had been craving. Not just the passion, not just the pleasure, but the connection. The feeling of being held, of being cherished, of being loved.
"I love you," Caitlyn whispered again, the words a soft, breathy confession against Vi's skin.
"I love you too, Cupcake," Vi murmured, her arms tightening around her. "So much."
She continued to move, her thrusts were wild and desperate. Vi grew wilder at Caitlyn's wanton moans getting louder. Caitlyn shuddered, her body tightening around the toy, a final, explosive orgasm tearing through her, leaving her trembling and breathless.
Vi held her through it, her movements slowing until she was still, just holding her, their bodies pressed together, their hearts beating as one. She gently lowered Caitlyn onto the bed, collapsing beside her, her arm thrown possessively over Caitlyn's waist.
They lay in the aftermath, the silence comfortable and profound. The city hummed outside, a distant, inconsequential noise.
In this small, cramped apartment, they had created their own world, a sanctuary built from sweat and whispers and confessions.
Caitlyn shifted, turning to face Vi. She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of Vi's jaw, the curve of her lips. She looked at her, really looked at her, at the woman who had broken down her walls and rebuilt her with a love that was fierce and unconditional.
"Stay," Caitlyn whispered, the word a plea, a prayer. "Stay with me."
Vi's eyes softened, a small, tired smile playing on her lips. She leaned in, capturing Caitlyn's lips in a slow, tender kiss. "I'm not going anywhere, Cupcake," she promised, her voice a low, contented rumble.