Ceilings

Vi was anything but a punctual person, though she liked to think about it as being fashionably late. What proved this theory was the fact she was pushing through the doors of the rink fifteen minutes after she was supposed to be there. Her teammates were used to it at this point, but her coach? Vi was most likely looking at double the amount of conditioning she was already facing.

She always had a perfectly good reason for being late. Like this morning, she only set two alarms instead of three. See? Perfectly good reason. Vi pushed through the double doors of Piltover arena. She was grateful for the boujee facilities she got to access through the school. The rink her school owned had a gym, a studio, showers and locker rooms, a skate shop, and everything in between. It was a poor Zaun kid's dream.

She paused for a moment as she hurried to the gym to join the rest of her team, gazing out into the rink. Classical music poured through the speakers, providing Vi with some calmness before she faced the wrath of her coach. Of course there was only one girl on the ice. Who else other than Caitlyn Kiramman was insane enough to show up at five in the fucking morning, even before the hockey teams?

She flew across the ice at speeds Vi couldn't conceive, her leg stretched high above her head. Her movements were deliberate yet fluid. Her dark blue hair and black clothing were a stark contrast against the white ice and boards, providing a silhouette Vi couldn't keep her eyes off. Her hair was slicked back into a perfect bun with zero flyaways, despite probably being at practice for hours. She was no doubt dressed head to toe in some fancy piltie brand, each item of clothing probably costing hundreds. Her warm up clothes and bag sat lined up on the boards, neatly lined up and folded. Vi bet that vest cost at least three hundred.

She brought her arms above her head, gracefully turning into a spin. The music picked up as she spun, pulling her blade to the back of her head and perilously leaning back. Caitlyn exited without showing even a small sign of dizziness, continuing the choreography she so rigorously followed.

Her coach stood in the penalty box, clapping unceremoniously when her student pulled off more and more impressive feats. Her face twisted in disdain and disappointment at mistakes that Vi couldn't even see.

Caitlyn switched her edge, curving towards the corner of the rink, gaining speed as she went. It was hypnotizing to watch. She executed a series of turns, violently shoving her toepick into the ice and vaulting herself into the air. Normally, Vi would be annoyed at the divot she made, but she couldn't find it in her. The girl rotated at an inconceivable speed, somehow landing perfectly. This resulted in a satisfied nod from her coach.

The pure skill she possessed was incredible. The way she skated held a quiet power that showed her focus and determination. She was going places.

Vi caught herself staring more often than not, especially on days like this. Caitlyn was a picture of poise, a stark contrast to Vi’s usual early-morning state, which could generously be described as an “undead wreck.” Caitlyn’s every movement on the ice was graceful, deliberate, and maddeningly precise, as if she were born to skate. Her breath clouded the cold morning air, mingling with the soft sounds of her blades carving arcs into the ice.

“Violet.”

Uh oh. Her full name. She whipped around, seeing her coach standing there, towering above her. “Are you going to keep ogling Kiramman, or are you actually going to join the rest of the team?” Vi nodded, slightly embarrassed. “Yes, coach Sevika.” She hurried past her coach towards the rink's gym, hoping that Sevika was in a forgiving, holiday cheer type of mood. Maybe then she wouldn't have to do laps.

She threw one look back at the skater, slightly envious of the sheer skill she possessed. The way she threw her body in the air was nothing like Vi could ever do. It suddenly seemed less impressive that she was good at skating with a stick in her hands.

The energy in the gym was… lethargic, to say the least. She couldn't blame anyone, with the fact it was 5:30 and all. Even though she was reluctant to join in, she didn't really have the option of slacking off. This was her junior season, and arguably the most important one in terms of recruitment. While she would be grateful to gain a scholarship anywhere, she had her heart set at the top. The division one schools only took the athletes that were the best of the best. That was where Vi was going.

She joined Jayce, who was already wiping down his workout equipment. “You're so early today!” he said sarcastically, his face deadpan. Vi rolled her eyes. “Good morning to you too, I guess.” She was grateful that the boys team shared the gym with them in the mornings. Although they did not practice at the same time as the girls, their shared gym time caused Vi to bond with quite a few members. Jayce especially.

she looked around, noticing that people were starting to trickle out of the gym. “Practice is starting early today? It's only 5:45.” Jayce looked at her, an inquisitive look plastered on his face. “I'm starting to think you've gotten slammed into those boards a few too many times. It's 6:00. You guys are supposed to be out on the ice as soon as they finish resurfacing or sevika will have your ass.” Vi grimaced. How did she manage to miss the whole conditioning session? She had apparently spent more time watching Kiraman than she had originally thought.

It wasn't her fault! She had every right to spectate. Caitlyn Kiramman was perfect. She was the ideal standard most pilties (and even some zaunites) lived up to. Her parents were fucking billionaires, and probably paid a fortune for her training. She was a straight A+ student, member of the student council and a million other organizations and clubs. Her mom was a famous politician, currently running for re-election. Her dad was a world class surgeon. She had the life people dreamed of. Caitlyn was perfect.

Except for the fact she was a stuck up piltie and a raging bitch.

Well… Vi had never really spoken to Caitlyn, but that didn't really matter. She had heard enough from various sources. By the time she exited the locker room, Caitlyn was long gone. Probably on her way home to her mega mansion.

A whistle cut through the frigid air. “We’re starting with the three player shooting drill, girls!” Sevika barked, her voice echoing throughout the rink. “Quick feet, shoot before the hashmark, heads up!” another shrill whistle. Holy shit. Was the whistle really necessary?

The team carried on through the insults and comments sevika threw at them.

“I want to see smooth transitions here girls!”

“You shouldn't look like a horse with skates on! Come on, let's do quick pivots!”

There was a perfectly fine reason for Sevika to be pushing them like this. With their first regular season game coming up in a few weeks, they needed to excel in preseason. The varsity team that Sevika put together this year was good. Really good. It was the first year in a long time that the Piltover high girls hockey team actually had a decent shot at winning states. And though Sevika was a total asswipe, she was a good coach. The team respected her. Vi respected her.

Which is why when Vi was pulled into her office, she was uncharacteristically terrified. No matter how late she was, she was never taken into the coach’s office. Laps, yes. Private meetings, no. it was safe to say that Vi was freaked the fuck out.

Vi sat in front of Sevikas desk, severely impatient. She shifted in her seat, surveying the surface. It was covered in old dishes and trash, but more importantly (and more interestingly) there were a plethora of photos and awards. Framed pictures of team USA were scattered, different dates on each. There were even more photos of her old college team. Vi spotted Sevika somewhere crowded in the middle of every photo. She let out a quiet whistle. Damn, her coach was qualified.

She was startled as Sevika burst in through the door, collapsing in the chair in front of Vi. They looked at each other for a second before Sevika started. “You're an excellent hockey player, Vi. you've got some talent. I know you want to go far, and I believe you can.” she began. Vi couldn't hide the grin that spread across her face. Was she really called in here to be praised? “However” Sevika continued “your skating is, to put it frankly, a mess.” Vi’s smile faded as suddenly as it had appeared.

“What?”

Sevika pressed on. “You have muscles, that's for sure, and you can put a shit load of power into your strokes. But, if you want to go pro, you have to improve on your edges and footwork.”

Vi couldn't believe what she was hearing. Violet lanes, needed to improve her skating? The one thing she was good at? Her lifelong passion? She sat, frozen in place. Sevika kept talking, ignoring the horrified athlete in front of her.

“This is exactly why I've set you up for lessons with Kiramman.”

What.

The.

Fuck.

Vi could seriously punch someone right now. She shot up, glaring at Sevika. “Lessons? Are you fucking kidding me? If I'm clearly the shittiest skater on the team, why don't you just kick me off?” she spat. Sevika just rolled her eyes, used to Vi’s outbursts by this point. “I'm not saying youre a bad skater, Violet.” Shit, there was her full name again. “In fact, you're one of the best we have. The reason I'm doing this is that I recognize your goals. You wont get anywhere if you remain at the same level forever.”

She knew Sevika was right, but that didn't make her any less pissed. Skating was the only thing she had ever been remotely good at, other than taking out her anger on other people. Hockey was the perfect combination of both. She had memories of her and her friends pouring buckets from the polluted river onto the empty lots in Zaun to make ice rinks in the winter. The first thing Vander did when he adopted Vi and Powder was take them to a real ice rink. The second thing he did was teach Vi to handle a stick and puck.

Skating was deeply rooted in her zaunite history, and hearing that she had to learn from a nasty topsider hit her hard. Nevertheless, Sevika always knew what was best. “Fine.” she muttered. Sevika nodded. “Twice a week, for the rest of the season. I think you both could benefit from this experience.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vander stood behind the bar, cleaning a glass. One of his favorite songs played quietly, filling the space. He looked up when Vi entered, grinning.

Vander had always been her biggest supporter, ever since he adopted her and power. It couldn't be said that the two girls had an easy life leading up to that. Their dad left after powder was born. Their mom was an addict who was rarely present, leaving Vi to take care of most things.

Their mom took her life when Vi turned nine.

After being in the system for around a year bouncing between homes, they found vander. He was the dad that both girls never had. And for the past seven years, things have been looking up. He saw the fighter in her, the relentless spirit, and suggested she channel it into something productive. That’s how she found hockey. At first, she was skeptical, but the moment her skates hit the ice and the adrenaline of competition coursed through her veins, she was hooked. Hockey became her sanctuary, a place where she could let loose without fear of judgment.

The three of them formed an unconventional family, built not by blood but by choice. The nights were filled with laughter and the occasional argument, and the days were spent chasing dreams. Vi with her hockey games and Powder with her projects.

Vander wasn't just a father figure. He was the rock in the chaos that once consumed their lives.

“How was practice, kid?”

“Shitty” Vi responded curtly, slamming her bag on the ground.

“Language.”

She threw herself onto a barstool with a huff, facing away from vander. His grin faded, replaced with worry. “What's up?”

“Coach is making me take lessons. Skating lessons! With a stuck up piltie bitch!” Vi snapped.

“Language.”

She laid her head down on the bar in defeat. “As if I'm not already her best skater! She said so herself!” Vander nodded, keeping a stoic expression as he listened. Vi continued bitterly. “This is probably just a punishment for being late so many times. It’s just not fair! I’ve worked my ass off, and what does she do? Send me off to some fancy instructor like I’m some rookie who can’t even skate in a straight line.”

Vander shook his head. “You've never been classically trained, kid. These people you aspire to be like have been. It's the one area you need to take a step up in.” Vi just grunted in response. God, even Vander agreed? Maybe her situation was worse than she thought. They sat in silence for a moment, letting the music fill the bar. The melody was low and soulful, matching the tired ache settling in Vi’s chest. She drummed her fingers on the bar, her frustration slowly giving way to resignation.

“Fine,” she muttered eventually, lifting her head just enough to glare at Vander. “But if this so-called ‘classical training’ nonsense turns me into one of those snooty twirl-happy types, I’m blaming you.”

Vander chuckled, the sound deep and warm, a welcome contrast to her gloom. “I think you’ll survive, kid. And who knows? Maybe you’ll surprise yourself.”
Vi snorted, shaking her head. “Yeah, sure. Because that’s exactly what I need—more surprises in my life.”

But despite her sarcasm, a small part of her wondered if Vander might actually be right.