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1.
The first time Cassandra catches her daughter with a girl in her bedroom, she is walking by her closed door when she hears Caitlyn exhale loudly in breathless excitement. Cassandra carefully opens the door and is surprised not to find what she was expecting.
A pretty girl with a blonde bob is sitting on her bed as Caitlyn stands in front of her, holding up one of the many airships from her prized model collection.
“This is the newest model! Most people think airships and blimps are interchangeable, but as you can see, airships have a rigid metal hull which makes them quite different!”
The girl furrows her brow at Caitlyn in incredulity.
“Wait, so when you offered to ‘show me your airships’ if I came up here, you were talking about actual model airships?”
Caitlyn looks confused for a moment before replying “yes?”
The girl scoffs in annoyance. “Unbelievable.”
She gets up and marches angrily from the room as Caitlyn stares after her in bewilderment.
Cassandra can’t quite believe her daughter either.
2.
The second time Cassandra finds a girl in her daughter’s bedroom, Caitlyn is once again showing another classmate a prized collection. This time, an assortment of firearms is strewn across her bed as Caitlyn continues to pull more from their case and present them to her friend.
The girl looks around nervously at the growing number of deadly weapons surrounding her. Her host, however, becomes more animated with the recounting of each piece’s history.
Caitlyn practically shoves a golden flintlock pistol in her face. “This one belonged to my great-grandmother. Family legend has it that it was gifted to her by the famous pirate Matilda!” she exclaims proudly.
Caitlyn smiles at her companion expectantly, oblivious to her growing panic. The girl looks helplessly towards the door, as if looking for a way to extricate herself. She locks eyes with Cassandra.
Cassandra sighs and steps into the room. “Girls, would anyone like to come downstairs and get some refresh–“
“Gods yes, thank you!” her friend practically weeps, and sprints past her out of the room. Caitlyn looks up in startled surprise, then down at the pistol in her hands in hurt confusion.
Cassandra doesn’t know what to say to her.
3.
The third time, Caitlyn seems to be giving a young woman with dark brown hair and olive skin a sermon on the marvels of hextech.
“… gauntlets to help the mining colonies in the fissures work faster and without fatigue. A mechanical arm equipped with a powerful ray of light for artificers to craft with perfect precision. Devices that will better the lives of everyone!”
“That’s… fascinating,” the woman offers. “It’s so great that you’re passionate about this. It’s a very attractive quality.” She smiles sweetly, sitting closer to Caitlyn and stroking her arm.
“It IS fascinating! And that’s only a few examples. There are so many practical applications of hextech!” Caitlyn looks ready to list them all.
Her guest tries a different tack. “You know, I’ve heard of a wonderful new application of hextech that’s becoming very popular in our circles” she says, dropping her voice suggestively, her fingers now trailing up Caitlyn’s thigh.
“Oh!” Caitlyn brightens. “Do you mean the new line of hextech shields and personal self-defense? It truly is wonderful that young women have the means to take agency and protect themselves!”
The brunette stares dumbfounded at Caitlyn. She takes a measured breath and is about to try again when she suddenly notices Cassandra at the doorway. She immediately flushes a deep crimson and mumbles “yes, that’s what I meant.”
The girl excuses herself and quickly leaves the room. Caitlyn frowns slightly and looks over to her mother as if for clarification.
Cassandra only sighs and shakes her head.
4.
The fourth time Cassandra already knows what to expect.
A tall thin blonde woman in an enforcer’s uniform is standing with her arms crossed and an unimpressed expression on her face. Caitlyn, also in her uniform, is waving a photo around before adding it to a large map on the floor.
“I suspect there is a single mind behind the undercity’s violence. This symbol has been showing up everywhere; at the Progress Day attack as well as that botched smuggling operation at the hexgates. If we can figure out who made this, it could lead us directly to whoever’s behind it all.”
Caitlyn’s partner looks down at the collection of notes and photos on the floor and says with a sigh, “Kiramman, when you said you had something ‘interesting’ to show me in your bedroom, this isn’t what I had in mind.”
Caitlyn looks at her partner in surprise. “What did you have in mind?”
“I – forget it. Let’s just go back on patrol.”
As the enforcer walks out of the room, Caitlyn stares for a long moment at her retreating figure before glancing at her work on the floor and then back again at the now empty doorway.
Cassandra isn’t quite sure she’s put the clues together.
5.
The fifth time, Cassandra finds a young woman unlike any she’s ever seen before.
The woman in question is lying across Caitlyn’s bed, propped up on one elbow. A shock of pink hair, cut asymmetrically, partially covers her right eye. Under her left, an unseemly tattoo.
Caitlyn is holding up her favorite rifle, the one engraved with the Kirammen crest and gifted to her by Cassandra herself. It was Caitlyn’s most prized possession, and she handles it lovingly as she explains each feature and demonstrates them.
The strange girl watches Caitlyn intently, her head cocked slightly as she stares curiously at her host.
Behind Caitlyn, the trophies from her shooting competitions are arranged haphazardly on the shelves, as if they had been pulled off and returned in quick succession.
Judging by the still unopened cases of Caitlyn’s numerous firearms gathered in neat piles on the floor, she had only recently finished showcasing her shooting trophies and was just now starting on her weapons collection.
Cassandra considers the scene before her and whether she should intervene before it’s too late. But the girl continues to watch Caitlyn, showing no signs of wanting to interrupt her. On her face, a slight half-smile belying her clear bemusement.
Caitlyn seems to realize she had been speaking without pause for some time now. “Sorry, am I boring you?” she asks hesitantly.
“Not at all” the girl now grins, “this is definitely the gun show I was hoping for when you asked if you could ‘show me your guns’ earlier.”
Taking her response at face value, Caitlyn positively beams at her before launching back into her lecture.
Her friend chuckles softly and gently shakes her head in amusement. She smiles encouragingly at Caitlyn, her soft eyes affectionate as she focuses on Caitlyn in rapt attention.
Cassandra closes the door behind her. For the first time, unsure what to make of what she just witnessed.
+1
“Caitlyn, it’s dinnertime. Your father – “
Cassandra starts as she enters Caitlyn’s bedroom.
“Mother!”
She glances in surprise at the bed as Caitlyn frantically pulls her comforter to cover herself. There’s a blur of movement as a second body disappears quickly behind it as well.
“Mother, can’t you ever knock first?!"
Caitlyn glares over the covers that are pulled up to her chin. Next to her, a suspiciously familiar head of pink hair falls over the shocked face that is also peeking over it.
“I’m sorry Caitlyn. I’ve been calling you for the last ten minutes. Clearly your attention was otherwise engaged.” Cassandra looks at her with an arched brow.
Caitlyn colors slightly but continues to stare daggers at her mother. Her guest at least manages a sheepish look of apology.
“As I was about to say, your father has made the stew you like for dinner. We’re waiting on you to start.” After a beat she adds, “your friend is welcome to join us if she wishes.”
“Uh, thanks” the young woman says uncertainly, glancing between mother and daughter.
Caitlyn hesitates a moment, then sighs. “Could you please give us a moment?”
“Of course. Please join us when you’re ready.”
Cassandra turns to leave the room. As she walks back out into the hallway and starts to head down to the dining room, a slight quirk tugs briefly at the corner of her lips.
Well, she thinks wryly, it’s about damn time.