Chapter Text
Luke, Streets of Zaun
He’s heard of the rumors before on the street. The Zaunite brawler, who rose to become one of Piltover’s best enforcers, alongside the sheriff. Together, the two had a tandem and word in Zaun is that they meant business. Like the good cop, bad cop. Playing in the streets became possible again for Luke and his neighbors – something they have been too scared to do before.
Luke would want nothing more than to see the female enforcer in action and got his luck one afternoon when he helped his uncle load crates of fruit in their street shop market. It all happened so fast, there was a piercing scream that cut through the sound of the usual crowd. Then he saw a net zip by and caught one of the running men. The next thing he saw was the female enforcer herself, wearing her red jacket over the usual standard issue uniform, dark pink hair, shaven on the side, topped with goggles. But what caught his eye were the giant hextech gauntlets on both of her arms –easily the most striking thing about her.
A couple of other enforcers ran past, with their blue and gold-trimmed uniforms. Then he saw another woman, dressed a bit differently with her blue top hat, wielding an intricately designed white hextech rifle. He immediately knew this was the sheriff. There was something graceful in the way she fired and loaded the bolt and Luke had never seen anything like it.
The walking Zaunite crowd parted and watched the commotion unfold. Luke had run, trailing through the crowd as he tried to get a glimpse of the action. The chasing stopped in front of a run-down building. The enforcer grabbed the suspect that was caught by the net by the collar. He was holding a firearm and with her other free hand, she bent the pistol like it was dough.
Around six men were caught and he watched in awe at how the sheriff and the enforcer with gauntlets worked together, cuffs moving between them, catching all the suspects without uttering a single word to each other.
“Nothing to worry about folks. We’ll take it from here.” The pink-haired enforcer announced jubilantly. The crowd eventually went back to whatever they were doing. Luke craned his neck to get closer and soon found himself right next to the enforcer herself.
“That was amazing!” He said, barely a croak but the enforcer heard him. She met his eyes, a smile etched in her face. “Is it true, you were from Zaun?”
“Know these streets like the back of my hand. Glad to be of service kiddo.”
“Thank you for cleaning our city.”
“Just doing our job. And you have your sheriff to thank for that.” The enforcer nodded to the sheriff, who Luke saw up close with had indigo hair and this air of sophistication.
The way the sheriff carried herself as she talked to a Zaunite citizen was captivating. She did not feel like a real person. It was crazy to think that one second, she could fire any shot with excellent precision, then she can calmly talk to people of all kinds, and even do council work from time to time. There was this look of pride or admiration in the way the pink-haired enforcer looked at her. “She calls the shots.”
Vi caught the way Luke admired the sheriff from afar. “Pretty, huh?” she teased.
The sheriff called out, with her upper-class accent. “Vi, we need to go.”
Vi made a sheepish face as she turned back to Luke. “Sorry kid, would love to chat but duty calls. Take care of yourself, okay?” She gave him a wink before taking off with the rest of the enforcers, disappearing in the misty streets.
Wade, Lock and Bolt Tavern
Wade had been running bars since he was old enough to drink and had seen enough in his lifetime, but tavern gossip has always been his guilty pleasure. No matter how small or scandalous, he could not help but keep an ear out even as he wiped beer mugs clean behind the counter.
Recent news pointed to the rise in popularity of the enforcer tandem of Sheriff Caitlyn Kiramman, daughter to the councilwoman, and Zaunite stray enforcer with a knack for solving fights with her fists. It was an unlikely tandem, given the enforcer’s past which became speculation in the streets and even inside the bar.
For Wade, it made him remember a memory not too long ago in these very walls of his bar.
It was past midnight and definitely a slow evening, with barely half the seats filled in the bar.
During these times, Wade liked people watching. A group of friends in one booth, twin brothers who were his bar regulars seated in the very far corner, and two women seated really close together in the booth nearest him. What made him take special interest here is that he could have sworn she looked like the Kiramman girl all over the newspapers and the up-and-coming sheriff of the city. She had indigo hair, a sharp nose, and a thin frame. Next to her was a girl with pink hair shaved in an undercut, her build was pretty tough, and the way she carried herself made her look like she is ready for a fight.
Their conversation was not to be heard from where he was, but he noticed intimacy – long gazes with their body language open to one another. The pink-haired girl called for more drinks and Wade delivered them, one glass of cocktail, the other a glass of vodka.
The longer the night went on, Wade noticed that the Kiramman girl was getting drunk, her head bobbing to the side, her shoulders losing its rigid posture. At varying stages, he saw her slump her head down on the table and even lean on the other girl’s shoulder, much to the other’s amusement.
By the time it was three AM and they were the only people left in the bar, the pink-haired girl came up to Wade by the counter. She slid over some gold coins with her bandage-wrapped hands. The first thing Wade noticed was the tattoo underneath her left eye that read VI. “Hey, here’s for the drinks. Guess we better get going.”
Wade peered over her shoulder to the Kiramman girl, head against the table, drunk out of her ass. “Do you need any help?”
“No worries.” Wade proceeded to clean the counter with his rag and watched as the pink-haired girl scooped up the Kiramman girl in her arms as if she weighed nothing. Kiramman unconsciously fit so well against the other girl’s chest. It was such a loving gesture that Wade didn’t realize he had a damn grin on his face.
Up to this day, tavern gossip often brings up those two. The occasional regular would drag Wade into the conversation. “What do you know of those two eh? You hear all sorts of things in these places.”
He has seen many things, but like all things that happen in the tavern, they stay there. That was how it always was for Wade, that was how it will always be.
“Eh, Piltover’s just lucky to have ‘em.” He’d say.
Jensen, Piltover Station
The first time Vi joined the enforcers, Jensen thought that she was no good.
Sheriff Kiramman had a mission, to clean the enforcers from the inside and out. She made herself very clear about it on her first day of the job.
Jensen knew how dirty some of the enforcers had become; corruption had run deep and had been part of what kept Piltover the City of Progress, with Zaun as its crime-ridden underbelly. Caitlyn Kiramman seemed at first like she was out-of-touch with what was happening under there, with her family background and all, but Jensen was pleased to see that he was wrong about her. She had a heart of gold, and the duty to serve the city for its people.
“Here’s our newest addition to the team, everyone. Meet Vi.” The Sheriff said one morning when they were all gathered in their briefing room.
Vi looked like everything the enforcers were not. She was not wearing the standard-issue enforcer uniform, but instead was dressed in her own red jacket get-up, with her punk undercut showing off her bright pink hair. Her hands were bandaged, bruised and knuckles red from god-knows-what.
“She’ll be reporting directly to me. But she will be helping you guys out in our operations.” Jensen scoffed at himself. The station really worked by rank, oftentimes the most senior would be working closely with the sheriff as it had always been. It was true that after purging some of the corrupt enforcers, most of the team was relatively new. But never has a new hire directly worked with the sheriff before. Why her?
He tried to raise his voice, but the way Sheriff Kiramman spoke gave away that her word was final. She was still the sheriff after all and must know better.
/
During one of the bust operations they had, Jensen realized that he was witnessing something he shouldn’t have.
“I had it under control.” Caitlyn scoffed as she picked up her blue top hat, dusting it off.
Vi emerged from the rubble, her attire covered in a sheet of concrete ash, revving up her gauntlets as if breaking down the wall was just her getting started. Between the uptight nature of Sheriff Kiramman, he just knew that the new enforcer would end up clashing with her one way or the other. The way Sheriff Kiramman worked was always so calculated and methodical, but the best part was that it produced results. Joining together the explosive energy Vi caused was just a problem added to the equation.
“No, you didn’t. But that’s okay, that’s why I’m part of the team.” Vi walked towards her with confidence.
“You’re so insufferable.”
“Ahh yes the Piltie attitude is coming back. I was starting to wonder when she’d show up.” Vi remarked sarcastically. Vi turned to Jensen who was unlucky to be between them, and not in the crime scene where the other enforcers were at work. “Tell me Jensen, was I right to just ram in there and take them by surprise?”
He felt the sheriff’s eyes fall on him. Jensen swallowed. “I really can’t say.”
Vi, unsatisfied turned back to Caitlyn, still with that smug look in her face. “Just remember Cupcake, we’re busting undercity gangs. There’s no taking them the way you topsiders do. This is how we do things here.”
Jensen almost froze when she saw Caitlyn’s ice-cold stare at Vi at the mention of the nickname.
Oh boy, this is about to get nasty.
/
During one night shift Jensen had at the office, he walked the near empty station and found Caitlyn still holed up in her office desk, cross checking papers.
“Would you want me to grab you some coffee before I go, sheriff?” he said as he stopped by the doorway.
She quickly looked up and shook her head politely. Jensen was supposed to leave when Caitlyn interrupted. “Actually Jensen, would you mind and get this package sent to Vi? She left them when she got off her shift. Her address is in the office directory, I’m sure it’s just on your way home.”
Jensen obliged and got the brown paper wrapped package that was sitting on top of Vi’s desk.
“Hope you don’t mind me asking, sheriff. But why do you put up with her as your partner if you say that she drives you crazy?” It’s been a question bugging his mind for the longest time. Everyone called them the dynamic duo, but all Jensen saw in his time spent around them was two people who didn’t seem to get along.
Caitlyn’s serious expression, the one she always had on whenever her head was in the job, faded into something softer. “People aren’t so different, you see. How we rid this city of corruption, its faults – we’d need to start seeing beyond the superficial.”
It was such a Kiramman answer, Jensen could have sworn the only thing needed was a journalist to log it down for tomorrow’s newspaper. What was supposed to be an easy question, turned philosophical. “I guess so. I’ll be going then, sheriff.”
She wished him goodnight as he took the wrapped package and walked home. Vi’s place turned out to be just two blocks away from his, a three-storied apartment building with a little veranda under each window. He pressed the doorbell that was indicated for Vi’s place.
A little over a minute of waiting out in the night cold, the pink-haired enforcer dressed in a tank top with hands still wrapped in bandages showed up. There was a look of surprise to see a familiar face at work, but in a different setting.
Jensen cleared his throat. “Sheriff Kiramman told me to send you this, says you forgot earlier.”
He watched with grace as Vi held the package but in one swift motion, ripped the paper covering, revealing a turquoise box of dessert delicacies – cupcakes. A smile ripped through Vi’s face as she laughed to herself. Jensen did not understand, but then again, there were many things he had yet to understand about a lot of things.
Manek, Stillwater Prison
How Manek ended up in Stillwater in less than 24 hours was still something that puzzled him.
One morning he was robbing a Piltovan arms dealer in the lower side of the city. The next thing he knew, the shop keeper set off alarms that made Manek break out in a run, his rucksack still carrying a bunch of revolvers as they jiggled against his back.
He was about to reach the warehouse district of Piltover, where he could easily jump inside one for cover. The next thing hit him like a blur, a shattering force hit him and the next thing he knew he was wincing on the ground, vision blurry. He was on the ground but his vision was spinning. How was that even possible?
He heard the voices before he saw them.
“You- why did you do that?” said a stuffy Piltovan accent.
“Punching bad guys, that’s what I do. That’s what you hired me for, remember?” A smug voice retorted.
His vision started to clear and he saw his arm next to his face, the rucksack of weapons a foot away from him, unreachable. He turned skywards and saw two figures on top of him. One had a funny-looking top hat while the other had massive gauntlets he could only dream of.
“You see, he’s out of it now. Is this the kind of state we bring criminals to in Stillwater?” said the lady with the top hat.
“Just admit it, cupcake. You’re annoyed I dived him before you got your shot.” Said gauntlet lady, with an air of cockiness.
“I will not! This is not a competition, enforcer.” She spat, clearly unnerved.
The gauntlet lady laughed. “Sure. Thank me later, I guess.”
The two were going at it for a while, Manek realized it was his window of opportunity to escape. He got to his wobbly knees, grabbed the rucksack and made a run for it, each step jogging his brain, making him realize the massive pain in his side from the gauntlets.
He didn’t reach a few meters when he found himself captured in a net.
“ Please , I could have gotten that.” Gauntlet lady scoffed.
“I was trying to see if you would notice that he would escape, and he did!” Hat lady exclaimed. “Under your watch.”
“You were so distracted by me. Thanks for saving the day. My hero .”
Hat lady groaned at the comment. “I should have gotten Jensen for this patrol.”
“That guy is boring. Admit it, it’s exciting working alongside me again.”
Manek lost consciousness after that point but he could swear the two were still arguing until he got loaded onto the enforcer's vehicle.
Behind bars, in Stillwater, there has been a lot of talk on the Sheriff and her new partner, the brash lady with gauntlets. Inmate and jail wardens alike are amazed how they manage to work together. The sheriff had worked solo all this time until now. What changed?
They must be fucking, Manek thought. The only possible explanation.
Gilda, Piltover Station
Gilda would rather work as a cleaning lady on the station than in some dingy pub. Here at least, there was a purpose unlike in cleaning off people’s vomit. She was no staff member nor an enforcer, but she liked being there because she felt she was a part of a bigger cause in some way. At least that’s how things started feeling the moment Sheriff Kiramman went in with her reforms.
In the station, the environment was nice, and Sheriff Kiramman knew everyone by name or at least tried her best to. Her day mostly consisted of mopping the floors before everyone starts filing in, then she would start to tidy the other rooms in the station – the briefing room, holding cells, kitchen pantry, and the private offices. The only ones who had their own private office were, of course, the sheriff, and spare rooms that were either used by visiting council members, judges, or anyone who needed an extra room to themselves.
She did two rounds usually to the private offices – in the morning to spray some disinfectant and add some freshener, and at the end of the day when she cleans any trash available.
It happened one day in the office that she was about to do her afternoon round of taking out the trash when she reached Sheriff Kiramman’s door and realized it was locked. That was odd. Doors were never locked in the station, especially when not in use. She tried the knob again, shaking it.
Worried, she pressed her ear to the wooden frame and heard some hushed breaths on the other side. Her imagination went many places. She did not want to call the guard to break down the door, at least not yet.
She knocked her hands on the wood. “Sheriff Kiramman, are you in there?”
The sound in the office hushed at her pronouncement. A few seconds later, the door unlocked, and officer Vi stepped out with a nonchalant look on her face. “Sorry, forgot to unlock the door.”
Gilda stepped in the room, suddenly seeing that the sheriff looked more uptight than usual, as if she was caught in the middle of something. Her brown jacket was draped across her hair and her white blouse looked like it was haphazardly buttoned. But she tried her best to act like it was normal. Gilda did not meet her eyes and instead focused on sweeping the floor of the office.
“Would you prefer to come clean the office at a later time, Sheriff Cait?” she asked, breaking the thick air.
She saw Caitlyn lower her shoulders in relief at the conversation. “No need, Gilda. It won’t happen again.” She exhaled after holding her breath for the better part of the minute.
Gilda nodded, taking out the trash from the bin and placing it into the bag in her trolley.
Before she left the room, she turned to see the careful eyes of the sheriff. “Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything.”
The sheriff broke into a smile, gap-tooth and all. Gilda returned the smile and exited the office.
/
She never cared much for town gossip-- she was just not that kind of person.
Do you reckon why the sheriff favors the Zaunite brawler?
I think it’s because they need an undercity representative in this station, and she is the most undercity you can get.
No, I hear they frequent that kinky brothel. That’s how they get along.
Sheriff needs to let loose, and who better than with Miss aggression-in-your-face.
She always knew gossip was just gossip and nothing more. The truth was much more complicated, much more reading between the lines.
Gilda appeared at the office of Sheriff Kiramman one night shift. People rarely took this shift unless absolutely necessary, but she knew the sheriff often poured most of her time into her work. She admired that about her.
She found the sheriff with her head resting in her folded arms, as she was asleep on her table. Draped on her back was the red jacket –unmistakably no one else’s but Vi.
Gilda tried her best not to make any noise as she wiped clean the shelves, including a glass display case that showed off some of Caitlyn’s prized rifles.
Gilda was surprised when Caitlyn sat up, disoriented from sleep. Seeing Gilda brought her back to her senses. “Oh dear, I must have fallen asleep.”
“It’s fine, sheriff, it happens to everyone.” Gilda said in support.
Caitlyn’s hand went over her shoulders as she realized what was draped on top of her. A smile formed on her lips for a brief second, but Gilda was keen enough to catch it before it disappeared in her usual business-as-usual mask.
“So the rumors are true then, sheriff?”
Caitlyn turned to her with a quizzical look. “What do they say?”
Gilda was surprised that someone who had such a keen ear to the ground, was oblivious to what was being spoken about them. “Well, everyone has their own guesses, speculations.” She remembered the chatter that she had heard over the course of months, but hated to settle on any specific one.
Caitlyn thought for a while, Gilda knew that thinking face all too well. “I suppose it doesn’t matter as long as we get results done, am I right?”
Gilda nodded. Sheriff always knew what to say. Before Gilda could leave the room, she stopped in her tracks and met the eyes of the sheriff. “Whatever the two of you have, it makes you happy and it’s been helping the city. Nothing more important than that, right?”
Caitlyn smiled back. “Thank you, Gilda.” She said with a weight that meant more than just gratitude for cleaning out her office.
Henry, Piltover Bakeshop and Confectionary
Henry had been running the bakeshop since he was old enough to walk. It had been his father’s and his grandfather’s. People all over Piltover looking for some baked goods and sweets only know one place to turn to, and that’s their shop – located strategically in the middle of Piltover’s town center.
Among thousands of orders served each day, Henry manages to remember the orders of a few select VIP customers. Those who only need to enter his shop, and Henry would know just what they want to get.
One of those is Caitlyn Kiramman. She had known the girl since she was just a toddler, often alongside her father, or her mother at times. For Caitlyn, the order had always been the same – cupcake with pink icing and a cherry on top.
The Kiramman family was very generous and often ordered in bulk, usually in two or three boxes at a time. They would often phone orders the night before if they desired to up the quantity.
For Henry, it was heartwarming to see that after all these years, Caitlyn still orders the usual cupcakes from time to time. Seeing that she had become the new Sheriff of Piltover made Henry beam with pride. My baking has helped her get to where she is!
Of course, Caitlyn got busier with work and her trips to the shop, this time in her gilded enforcer attire, grew lesser. Henry completely understood this. Still, after each news of successful busts stopping gang lords and illicit operations across Piltover and Zaun, Henry never failed to deliver one box of cupcakes to the station, free of charge.
Before the rumors even started with Caitlyn and that new Zaunite enforcer, Henry saw it happen before his eyes. To anyone not paying attention, it would have been nothing. But Henry put two and two together quickly.
A pink-haired girl steps into his shop one day. Henry mostly knows each customer by face, and this he could tell was a first timer.
She had on a dark leather jacket, showing tattooed arms wrapped in white bandages. Despite the cool bravado she gave off, she looked unsure when staring at the glass display case of a dozen different confectionaries from candies to baked rolls.
“How may I help you?” Henry asked, leaning forward at the counter.
“Do you happen to sell cupcakes?” she asks, unsure.
Henry nodded. “What flavor and topping?”
The girl froze. Even more options she did not know about. Henry caught on and slid across the counter a hand-sized menu and pointed to the available flavors – chocolate, strawberry, hazelnut.
She held up her hands, as if trying to materialize a cupcake in front of her. “It has these red things on top. It's the color pink.”
Henry nodded. “That’s the strawberry special, dear.”
The girl nodded frantically. “Yeah, I’ll get a box of six of those.”
“Right away.” Henry carefully added strawberry whip cream to the cupcakes and topped each with a ripe cherry. He packed them swiftly in a turquoise box and handed it out to the girl, who handed him two gold coins.
“That one’s a favorite of Caitlyn Kiramman.” His comment made the other girl freeze in place. “You know, the Sheriff of Piltover.”
The sides of her mouth curl into a smile he didn’t know was possible in her tough exterior. “Yeah, so I heard.”
/
Henry later learned her name was Vi.
She became one of his usual customers, often ordering the same strawberry special cupcakes. Henry made it a point to stock up on his cherries to keep up with the demand.
“Good morning, Henry.” She’d say as she entered the shop. This time she was in her jacket, her badge showing that she also worked with the enforcers.
“The usual, Vi?” He’d say, wiping his hands on his apron.
“You know it.” She’d say playfully.
One time, he took up the courage to ask. “You working over there in the station, are you? With Sheriff Kiramman?”
She nodded.
“Well tell her I miss serving up her orders.” Henry teased.
The next day, Caitlyn arrived herself in the shop, her unmistakable indigo hair and blue eyes. Henry emerged from the kitchen, beaming. “It’s been a while, sheriff!”
“Yeah, I’ve been really busy with work, Piltover peacemaking doesn’t rest.” She politely explained.
“The usual?”
“Yeah, just one piece though, to go.” Henry obliged and put the cupcake in a brown paper bag. “Your workmate, Vi, she always gets the same kind of cupcake. Coincidence, eh?”
Henry might have been seeing things, but the sheriff’s cheeks turned pink.
/
One evening, Henry was closing shop late because he had to bake all evening for a birthday celebration tomorrow.
As he was walking home, he happened to notice two figures walking across the street together, one slightly taller than another.
The smaller person was carrying a box of his cupcakes, Henry could tell from the way the box was designed. It took him a second later to realize that it was Vi and Caitlyn, walking home from work. It was an odd place to be for the sheriff because he knew she lived in the wealthier apartments in Piltover, where the windows were gilded, and rent was double the price of what he earned in a month. But hand in hand, they walked until they got to a three-story apartment which he deduced must be Vi’s, as they disappeared through the door.
Henry walked home, feeling contentment in his heart.
My baked goods bringing people together. That’s the only explanation there is, he thought.
Ellis, Black and Gold Tailors
“Look at that, cupcake.”
“Shut up.”
Ellis craned his neck to see the noise. His tailor shop was often quiet, save for only customers who booked their fitting days before. That was how the business always worked, so it was out of the ordinary to hear such playful banter in the shop premises.
He checked the booking sheet – Kiramman, Caitlyn. Right, the VIP guests.
He stepped away from his small counter and parted the velvet curtains, opening up the fitting area. Standing by the mirror of the fitting cubicle was the sheriff herself, but this time trading her gilded uniform for a long lace black gown, accentuating her sharp collar bones through its wide neck line.
Seated across from her was someone Ellis would not even think to let in the shop if she weren’t the accompaniment of his VIP clientele. Patched brown leather jacket, dusty combat boots, and arms wrapped in bandages that have seen better days.
He frowned seeing her sit down with her leg balanced on top of her knee. This is an exclusive tailor shop, not a Zaunite pub for crying out loud. But keeping himself professional, Ellis did not speak those words out loud.
“How do you find the dress, madame?” he asked, raising his chin upwards.
“It’s kind of–”
The pink-haired girl interrupted. “Stiff.”
Ellis pursed his lips. Caitlyn looked at him, taking control of the situation. “What my partner meant to say was that, the dress is a bit restrictive. Maybe a slit down here would do? It’s kind of hard to sit or walk down the stairs.”
Partner. Weird that Caitlyn still referred to the Zaunite urchin as their partner even outside work premises. Everyone knew they were, that was all there ever is in the news.
“Very well madame, I’ll just take some measurements.” He got out the tape measure slung around his neck and bent down, measuring below her hip down to where the dress falls on the ground. He marked it with white chalk, where he will add the trimming.
“Is there anything else I can do for you Miss Kiramman?” Ellis asked, as part of the usual protocol.
Caitlyn’s eyes lit up. She turned to the other girl. “Can you do a quick fitting for a suit for my partner?” There was it again, the word partner.
Vi violently shook her head. “Accompanying you here is one thing, getting Piltie clothing is another.”
“C’mon. What will you wear to the banquet?” she said pointedly.
“Uh…I have plenty of other clothes, thank you very much.”
“No leather jackets or combat boots.” Caitlyn teased, an eyebrow shooting up. Ellis noticed up close that the sheriff had a gap tooth– it made her look less like the perfect Piltovian status symbol and more like a human being.
Vi groaned. “The things I do for you.”
“Another fitting?” Ellis repeated to the sheriff.
She nodded. “Yes please.”
/
Once the fitting was done, Ellis was glad to give the two some room. He felt uncomfortable, the feeling he got whenever he was stuck with his married friends. It was strange he got that feeling just then.
He resigned behind his desk, marking in his notepad the right measurements so he could tailor the suit later.
“You’re going to leave me alone, while you talk with your fellow high society people. That’s what.” said Vi’s voice, a little bit hurt by the sound of it. He didn’t think it possible the woman was capable of sounding anything but confident.
“You know that’s not true. They just haven’t met you yet.” Caitlyn spoke in a familiar upper-class accent Ellis always heard around his shop. “We’re partners, remember?”
Ellis got a suede meter of fabric, measured it and cut it with one swift move. Partners. This conversation did not make sense to him in the slightest. He was so out of the loop, he figures with what the youth are into.
Soon enough, Caitlyn and Vi emerge from the fitting lounge back into their usual getup. Caitlyn was wearing a white blouse that went up to her neck, a sleeveless blue vest on top with gold trimmings – usual garb by the Kiramman family.
“Shall I charge the bill of your friend’s attire to the council?” Society banquets are usually paid for by the budget allotted by the patrons. The Kiramman family has always been a generous patron to most of these events. Most of the attendees got their fittings at the shop, free-of-charge.
“No, charge it under my name.” Caitlyn says. “This is a personal transaction.”
Ellis raised an eyebrow. But he wrote the bill nonetheless. He ripped it off the pad and handed it over to the sheriff.
The last thing he saw before the left the shop was Vi snaking her arm around Caitlyn’s waist. Ellis found himself staring until after the door had closed.
Partners.
God how dense was he?
Marie, Wentworth hotel
Marie usually lets the hotel staff do their thing, but Miss Kiramman was a VIP guest so she wanted to see to it that her stay was most welcome in her own facility.
She got up to the tenth floor of the hotel where the executive suites were. She saw that there was no sign on the door signalling to staff that they were free to enter to change towels, serve amenities and what not.
He heard the sound of the wind flapping the curtains, meaning the window was open. The worst case scenarios popped in her head. Breaking and entering in hotel rooms was not really unheard of in Piltover. She gently opened the door.
The first thing she saw were clothes strewn everywhere, as if in a hurry. She saw that the sheets were all messy, pillows all over the ground. The window was open, the curtain blowing gently with the breeze.
“My goodness!” Marie exclaimed in surprise.
Suddenly, the indigo head of Caitlyn Kiramman emerged from the white sheets. Marie almost backed against the wall, she thought the room was empty. Caitlyn looked just as surprised to see her. She was wearing just a lace beige camisole so she pulled up the white sheets to her chest. Caitlyn was already pale, but she looked even paler in surprise.
“Miss Kiramman, I’m so sorry. I thought there was something wrong. The window was open, there was no sign on your door. Heavens, I’m so sorry.” she spat out, her nerves getting to her.
Caitlyn looked unnerved clearly, to be seen in such a messy habitat, and to be walked in on by a stranger. “Everything’s fine.” Even she wasn’t sure she believed it.
“Can I get you anything to make your stay more welcome?” Marie offered in exasperation, her hand still at her chest. The embarrassment and secondhand embarrassment she felt for the sheriff wasn’t doing her nerves any favors.
Her eyes could not meet the sheriff’s, so instead her eyes fell on dusty combat boots at the foot of the bed. She didn’t think Caitlyn’s feet were that big. If Marie dared to look closer, she would have seen red marks all across Caitlyn’s neck.
“Just some breakfast. You can leave them outside the door.”
Marie nodded. She stood there for a good second or two until it hit her that Caitlyn wants to be left alone. She bowed in apology for what seemed to be the nth time. “I’m sorry again, Miss Kiramman. Hope you enjoy the rest of your stay. Please just give us a ring for any further accommodations.”
Marie left before Caitlyn let out an exhale and buried herself underneath the sheets, Vi asleep and curled on her stomach, sinewy arms wrapped around her waist.
Boaster, Kiramman estate
Boaster had been with the Kiramman family for a long time, having seen Caitlyn grow up from that girl always carrying her father’s rifle around her back, to being the actual Sheriff of Piltover.
It was a post he was always proud of. The Kiramman family was very much like most Piltovan elite, but what set them apart was their generosity. Boaster would not have been able to send his two boys into academies if it weren’t for their goodwill for all his years of serving their estate.
The family’s pride had also become his. Becoming the sheriff was no easy feat, and Caitlyn had moved out since she started being more serious with her work. However, sometimes she would have the occasional dinner at home or stay for a night or two especially if there was an important gala or banquet to attend.
Boaster will never forget the night he first saw Vi.
He saw a figure just outside the gated estate. He approached with caution, it was not an everyday sight. When he got closer, he saw the pierced nose, tattoo under the eye, and the pink flash of hair. It was no one other than Caitlyn’s partner at work.
“Miss Vi, what are you doing here?” He said as he approached.
She had both hands on the gate’s bars, hands with knuckles caked in bruises. “Would you mind letting me in?”
“Some late night work?” he assumed.
She just nodded. He got the keys to the gate and opened them. “Would you want me to alert you to the miss–”
“I’d prefer if you didn’t tell anyone actually.” she said assuredly.
Boaster nodded and let her be. He was getting old anyway, he didn’t understand how younger kids worked much like his own boys. He watched as Vi made her way to the gardens and climbed up the balcony leading to Caitlyn’s window. He scoffed and shook his head laughing, heading to the guard post for some coffee. He had seen enough for that night.
/
“Some urgent work again, Miss Vi?” he called out in one of the succeeding occasions she showed up outside the gates. It had become a matter of not if but when Vi would show up.
“I guess you could say that.”
Other times, it involved just Vi handing over a box of cupcakes. Please leave this outside her door. Boaster always entertained her because he knew she was a good friend of Caitlyn’s. Any friend of the Kiramman’s was also his esteemed guest, as he always said.
Boaster never really gave much thought to it. He was always a loyal part of the Kiramman household. Their business was none of his, it never was. But on one of the many times he and Vi shared some nights by the gate, he found himself commenting “She’s lucky to have you.” Whatever he meant, he just left it up to the air.
“No I’m the luckiest fool in the world.”
Cassandra Kiramman, Kiramman estate
The first time Cassandra Kiramman set her eyes on Vi, she just thought that she would be just like every other friend Caitlyn had brought home during the years. The occasional sit-down dinner, then they were never to be seen again. Caitlyn always called them the same, my friend.
Vi had been to the estate one time, and Mrs. Kiramman did not give it much further thought. She had plenty of other grievances in her heart, apart from work, there was her daughter’s pursuit of being an enforcer.
She did not think of it seriously all those years ago when she had brought the idea up. She’s still young, she will outgrow it. It’s just a phase. To her actual surprise, Caitlyn did pursue the enforcer training until she eventually was one. No matter what stings she pulled, her daughter managed to find a way to be in the thick of every important investigation. She wanted to make her mark in the world, she knew. So to see her daughter rise to become Piltover’s Sheriff, Cassandra can admit to herself the pride that nests in the corners of her heart. Even if she will not say it out loud.
With her daughter pouring most of her time into her work, moving out to be closer to the station, Cassandra could admit that she missed the times her daughter brought home different girls even if it led to nowhere.
It was to her surprise when Caitlyn came home for dinner one evening, tagging along her work partner, Vi.
“Mother, father, this is my partner , Vi.” He beamed a bit nervously, from the way her shoulders did a little jig, the same as her heels. There was something about the way she said partner that made Cassandra know this was different. “You’ve met before.”
“Nice to meet you, Vi!” Tobias, her husband exclaimed, giving a warm handshake.
“Vi, how could I forget?” she said, hand curtly in a handshake.
/
Cassandra was no stranger to restrain. Years in the council taught her as much. So she let her thoughts roam while she kept to herself that dinner time.
She was very different from everyone else. Vi was a self-proclaimed street rat, and it showed in how she brought herself, the years in the streets carving itself deep through her, a visible chip on her shoulder. The gauntlets she wore on duty only served as a mask for the real threat that was in her pickled flesh of knuckles, wrapped in bandages. Her eyes darted to her daughter's hands, uncalloused, even after all her years of using her rifle.
She had this confidence and assurance in her body language. There was pride. She came from the slums and that shaped who she was as a person– that was something to be proud of. Cassandra could tell there was merit there, people who lacked spine was something she absolutely despised. Even if Caitlyn and her had butted heads over her career choices, the girls she brought home, Cassandra could at least rest easy that her daughter had a will of her own.
The way she ate dinner with the silverware was something she was still trying to get used to, mixing which fork was for which dish. She also had a habit of speaking even with her mouth full.
She paid close attention to her daughter, who was seated next to her. The way Caitlyn beamed at her partner was more than just because they do good work at the station.
Cassandra had heard people talk but didn’t give much thought to it. There was never really any secret between Caitlyn and her–that was just how Tobias and herself had raised their daughter. She will come to them when she is ready to formally introduce her to the family.
Kiramman, there is talk in town about your daughter and that street urchin….
Aren’t you worried how that will reflect on the Kiramman name? She is still a Kiramman.
It’s concerning the kind of crowd your daughter is seen at work with.
“My daughter is of age and capable of knowing what’s right and wrong for herself, her station, and her family.” was what she always said. But still, repeating this time and time again became a chore for Cassandra, so this night to settle it all was in a way, a big relief to her.
/
After dinner when Tobias was about to show Vi some of his prized hunting gear in the drawing room, Cassandra saw Caitlyn approach her by the piano room.
She was silent until her daughter spoke up. “So, you finally met Vi. Well, officially that is.”
Cassandra turned and her daughter had that expectant look she was all too familiar with even if she had gotten better at hiding it. Suddenly, she was twelve as she held her marksman trophy and she was standing expectant of Cassandera, waiting for some form of validation.
“You two have made quite the talk in town.” She said, facing away. Staring at the big glass doors that overlooked most of the upper-Piltover skyline.
“Since when did you care about townspeak?” Cassandra was starting to sense her unease.
She turned back to look at her daughter. “Caitlyn dear, you and I have never really seen eye to eye. About your shooting, your career path, your er–choices. But when has that ever stopped me from supporting you?” She set down her champagne glass on the table and took her daughter’s hand.
Caitlyn looked lost. “I want you to like Vi.”
“Oh she’s plenty likable I’m sure. I’m sure your father already has taken a liking to her.” Cassandra said, amused.
Cassandra watched in horror as her daughter looked crest-fallen at her attempt at nonchalance. She was never really good at being straight with her emotions. She exhaled. She squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Cait, I can see why you like her. She’s just as good hearted as you are, I see that now. You are the Sheriff of Piltover, your right hand is born of Zaun. Even together, you two promise the peace between two cities. If you two can work out, so can Piltover and Zaun.”
Her daughter’s blue eyes glazed with tears but she bit her lip back. She was really not one to show herself cry, amused at where her daughter got that habit from.
“Thanks, mum.”
“Don’t thank me, thank your girlfriend.” she scoffed.
Caitlyn rolled her eyes. Cassandra grinned. For all their differences, she would still never pass up to play that mom card every once in a while.
Phil, Potions and Perfumes, Zaun
Phil had a slow evening in his shop, glass vials of different liquid potions and perfumes encased in wooden cabinets, giving it an eerie glow.
The shop bell chimed before he saw who was at the door. He had to blink more than once to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.
If it isn’t Vi herself in the shop. Everyone at Zaun knew who she was – a legend and prodigy. Unlike most Zaunites who got academy scholarships to become professionals in Piltover, there was a different kind of pride for Vi. She was never disconnected from the undercity, it ran in her veins, and she still knew some people by name.
Yet here she was in Phil’s humble shop, in her red jacket, combat boots, just missing her giant hextech gauntlets. She took a quick look around before approaching Phil at the counter.
“How may I help you, Vi?”
She smiled at the recognition, as it quickly faded from her face. She never revelled in glory, which is what Phil liked about her. She always meant business, just like the sheriff. “Do you happen to still make perfumes? They say you’re the best around here.”
He nodded. “‘Course I do. Can whip you up a custom one, if you’d like.”
She came all the way down to Zaun to get perfume. There were dozens of reputable perfumeries in fancy Piltover, but somehow she was at Phil’s.
Phil realized it was almost Valentine’s. “So you can describe the special guy, and I can work from there.”
Vi froze. “Er– girl.”
Phil’s mouth turned into an ‘o’ shape. “My bad, tell me what she’s like then.”
Vi clasped her fingers together against the counter. She was looking somewhere down, but her mind was far away, searching.
“Well for starters, she’s sweet.” Vi said, smiling. “She’s smart, incredibly smart than anyone gives her credit for. She’s steadfast but not overbearing. She can be a little clueless sometimes, she has those moments. Like being in a pub and not understanding all the little bar jokes going on.” There was a chuckle from the enforcer as she recalled.
Phil let her ramble on as he wrote down keywords from what she was saying. This was how he devised the perfect scent.
“She's really into her work like really. She actually forgets to sleep sometimes or eat her food because she thinks there’s no tomorrow unless she finishes her job. She’s a by-the-rulebook kind of girl, but she knows when to hold her ground and break the rules when needed.”
“She’s not the overly touchy kind of person, I think she gets it for her mom. But she really tries. She has this knack for remembering tiny details you mention in passing and you have no idea anyone would remember. She’s always so thoughtful.”
“She’s a dork…but she’s my kind of dork. She makes everything about her so endearing.”
Phil nodded as he scribbled. Dorky, endearing.
“She’s from this rich family but she never cared about any of that – fame, fortune, glory. She’s incredibly down-to-earth. She can look at you, the lowliest of Zaunites you may be, and she does not see you for what you are but who you are.”
Phil looked up, dots starting to connect in his head. It must’ve shown in his face because suddenly Vi’s cheeks grew to the same color as her hair.
“I think I got it.” He said, to relieve her of that embarrassment.
He went up to his workstation and started tinkering with the different glass vials. Dropper here. Add some more of this substance there. He let his hands work the magic, almost 20 years doing potions and perfume does this to someone.
When he was done, he presented a glass bottle to Vi, with a corkscrew cap.
Vi was about to take out some coins from her pocket when Phil waved a hand. “This one’s on the house. Thank you for everything you and the sheriff have done for Zaun. We don’t forget over here.”
Phil just saw her up close for the first time now, but he knew that statement hit her deep. The cool collected air she had turned rigid as she forced a swallow. She held the perfume in her hand.
“You tell the sheriff I say thank you too. And I hope she likes it.”