Basic Etiquette
“Jayce,” Caitlyn settled her silver teacup down with a rigid hand. “Do you have any idea how inappropriate your suggestion was?”
The midday sun, peeking through the navy curtains, did little to warm Jayce through Caitlyn’s cold stare.
“Well… I, that's why I was hoping you'd care to join me?” Jayce chuckled under Caitlyn’s piercing eyes, his smile faltering with every passing minute that he stood under her scrutinizing glare. He fiddled with the rim of his sleeves, gliding his thumbs over the golden cuffs and straightening his collar with nervous energy.
“I can't believe how you get away with all of this…” Caitlyn scrunched her eyebrows, rubbing the bridge of her nose with a gloved hand. She really couldn't believe it—genuinely. How could one man be so blind to proper etiquette, especially toward unmarried women. “Fine. So as to not make you look like a fool, I shall accompany you for afternoon tea with the Vanderson sister."
He was like a puppy regarding the hopes and dreams of other scientists, wagging his tail at the first person to bring him some new research or any other theoretical advancements. As much as she would want to, she couldn't fault him for that—it was one of his most charming qualities.
“Does it have to be with her?” Caitlyn eyed her cup, rubbing the silvery edge with a gloved thumb. “As I recall—the Vanderson house has a male heir surrounded by unscrupulous rumours.”
“Cait,” Jayce swiftly took a seat next to her on the plush couch, slouching to look her in the eye. “You're a sister I never had. I'll handle your mother if she gets any kind of ideas. You know she's got a soft spot for me.” He flashed that damn golden boy smile, as if to prove a point.
“Everyone has a soft spot for you, Jayce.” Caitlyn hummed lightly, sipping her tea and setting the cup back down without a single noise. “But. Regardless, I appreciate it. I don't want to hear another one of her lectures.” She rubbed her temples, her eyes dimming from frustrations.
Suffocation.
“Any time, Cait. I got your back.”
She shuddered at the sudden touch, and Jayce separated his hand from her shoulder the moment he felt her tense up.
“Sorry—you, uh, had that look again.” Jayce rubbed his neck as he straightened his back.
“Thank you, but your concern is enough. As always.” She snapped at him.
She hated this.
She's like a sister to him—of course he'd want to pat her back if she looked down in any way. But it didn't stop her discomfort.
It was different when he would escort her out of parties and events, hand laid on her waist. It was etiquette. It was a shield. It was always expected—a normality. But behind closed doors, it was… upsetting. An uncanny unfamiliarity that shook her to the core.
She sighed. “I don't fault you, Jayce. I'm simply not as touchy in private.”
“Cait? There's noth—”
“How about Viktor? Did he take the news well?” Caitlyn switched the topic before Jayce could dig into her wounds with words bordering on pity rather than concern.
Jayce immediately shut his mouth. His eyes blew wide before his fingers reached up to rub them blind. “He uh… snapped. Heh.”
“I expected as much.” Caitlyn said flatly.
“Yeah. ‘You promised this six months ago, Jayce’ he said. ‘always the next time with you!'” He swiveled his head around, mimicking his thick Czech accent with little success. “I just don't know what to do to make it up to him… I really pissed him off, huh?”
Caitlyn huffed.
Of course it was promised to him. She set her tea aside, no longer able to stomach the floral drink as guilt gnawed on her.
She should've expected it—but she was still thankful for this reprieve from the house. A mix of hurt and comfort.
If only she could handle what is expected of her…
“I might—does he still fancy wine?” She waved a hand for the maid to clear the table.
“Absolutely. He hasn't stopped raving about the last bottle I got him.” Jayce shook his head to the silent offer of tea from the maid, before she settled the teapot on the nearby cart.
“Since you've so graciously given me an invitation that was promised to him months ago,” she put heavy emphasis on months with a vicious tone that could cut through iron. “I'll be receiving a bottle from the Holsteins soon. Give it to him with mine and your deepest apologies. Write a poem and sing under his balcony window, if you have to.”
Jayce cleared his throat. “W-well, uhm… I wouldn't go that far.”
“You will if he asks you to, because the bottle is from me; the apology is yours to make.”
The clinking of trays ceased as the maid exited the room, leaving only Jayce’s anxiety to fill the silence.
“Okay… okay, Cait. I'll apologize, for both of us. I just don't know why I just—” He rubbed his temples, slouching down with nervous energy as his fingers rubbed up and down his neck, fidgeting with stray hairs. “I don't know. I get so nervous around him… like, my heart is stuck in my throat and I freeze up.”
“Well, we have some time before our guests will arrive.” Caitlyn waved a finger to the butler. “Would you like me to call in a doctor?”
“Y-yeah… yeah, please do.”
Vi hadn't expected to be visiting a Kiramman estate, not once in her life. The difference in status was that of a lion and a cat; they were large, fierce, and reputable with more than a century of history behind them, while the Vanderson name was still in it's infancy. And yet, their little golden boy had made the most improper suggestion to her sister. Suffice to say, she wouldn't be leaving tea time with the Kiramman's golden goose up to Mylo and his never-knowing-when-to-shut-up attitude.
She had gawked at the inside and outside of the manor. A 'vacation house,' the butler told her. Sure, a vacation home, littered with sculptures that she couldn't fully comprehend the worth of and the interior design of some grand-hall in Piltover.
The main halls were littered with the portraits of the various Kiramman heirs. Suffice to say, most were women—all of them, stunning and the complete opposite of her, posing beside a man like dolls on display.
Kid, it ain't all glitz and glamor. Up there, it's a man's world—The words Sevika had left her, long ago, pierced through her thoughts. They weren't a threat or a warning. Neither ominous nor promising, Only meant to convey the hope that she may live as freely as she can under the guise she'd donned; to avoid the same fate of these unfortunate women.
To avoid the Vanderson name’s death.
If Vi was a woman—in public—she’d lose the Vanderson name upon marriage that her fathers had built up with blood, sweat, and tears.
Vi paused at the cleanest portrait, still shiny as if it was painted yesterday. She squinted, hardly able to discern the cursive writing bordering on nonsensical in her eyes.
“Caitlyn Kiramman.” Powder read the name inscribed on the bottom of the portrait, leaning slightly over Vi's shoulder. “Huh, she's… very beautiful.” Powder, too, gawked at the painting, mesmerized by the stern expression. And—for a moment, Vi felt that there's something familiar about it. Like… a gnawing whisper at the back of her mind. It irritated her beyond belief as she spun the heel of her boot.
“She's… okay, I guess.” She mentioned bitterly.
“Okay? Don't you mean exactly what you like? Sharp cheekbones, narrow eyes—I bet she's available.” Powder nudged her elbow playfully against Vi’s arm.
“Hey, Pow-pow? Don't tempt fate, She's probably not—” She stopped as the butler opened the doors for them, and stepped aside to wave them in.
“I wasn't uh… expecting other company.” Jayce stood up from the couch, awaiting for the pair to take a seat around the square coffee table. The doctor murmured something in Caitlyn's ear before packing up his things and passing the Vanderson pair upon his discreet exit.
Vi escorted Powder further into the room that was draped in navy blue curtains with gold embroidery. The wallpaper, too, seemed laced with some kind of golden paint that shimmered under the light, pooling through the parted curtains. The peaceful greens accentuated the overall harmony of the colors on display—whoever they hired to design this place, it must've cost a fortune and then some.
She scanned Jayce with a stern look. “I wasn't expecting someone to hit on my sister, but here we are.” Vi mentioned as politely as she could, receiving a soft jab from Powder directly into her side.
“Please excuse me for a moment.” Powder yanked her by the ear to bow in apology. “I hope you'll ignore this red lamp-post’s presence starting now.”
Jayce was flabbergasted at the accusation. “Th-that was never even my intention with the lady Powder.”
“Please excuse Jayce,” Caitlyn asserted from behind her newspaper, folding it up nicely and planting it in the middle of the coffee table with a loud smack. “He is a man of science, not of etiquette. Even books have more in common with him than women.”
Vi yanked herself free of Powder’s old-lady death grip with a frustrated sigh. “Is that so?” She muttered, gleaning over Caitlyn's poised form of picture perfect elegance.
The portrait hadn't done her justice, or it was just her choice of wardrobe that left Vi rather speechless—she hoped it was just the clothes; white pants, following every curve of her mile-long legs until it met her navy vest that hugged her body to the point it left no curves for the imagination.
“I hope we won't have a problem, Vi Vanderson. The rumor mill doesn't need more gossip about you.” Caitlyn rested a palm on her knee and extended the other toward Vi.
Vi didn't reply, and switched between Caitlyn’s gloved knuckles and her rigid face, still processing the slight details of her sharp chin and angular cheekbones. The moment their eyes met, she was lost in the deepest, bluest pair of sapphires she'd ever seen. She chose to shake her hand swiftly, and sat down before her motor skills entirely shut down.
Caitlyn blinked twice in mixed horror and pleasant surprise, holding her hand in the air for a second too long before withdrawing it back to her lap. Powder took a seat next to Vi, and when Jayce had finally seated, the servants brought over their tea and a towering tray of small bites, ending on sweet cupcakes at the very top.
“I was intrigued by the proposition of more advanced prosthetics that Powd— the lady had made at the party.” Jayce took a greedy sip of coffee from his mug, settling it down with a thump that had Caitlyn sighing audibly. “As lady Kiramman had already mentioned, I'm not looking into any other prospects than science and a little engineering on the side.”
Vi nodded in understanding, waiting quite the long moment before taking a small sip from her silver cup.
“Prosthetics?” Caitlyn perked up. “We already have a capable inventor on those.”
“Mine aren't just any prosthetics.” Powder snatched a bite-sized cucumber sandwich from the bottom of the tower, continuing her sentence after a sip of tea. “I believe, with a little more research, I could restore some more delicate motor functions and add proper joint articulation.” She stuffed her face, beady eyes fluttering in pure bliss as the soft, spongy bread melted on her tongue with the essence of cucumber.
“Amazing, isn't it?” Jayce sprung forward as if he'd just heard the proposition for the first time. “With her inventions, the people who lost hands could work again, and they wouldn't have to rely on the disability funds from the council!”
“Do you have anything to back your claim?” Caitlyn set down her teacup in silence, raising her gaze toward the young sister. “Forgive me for my apprehension, but making such promises without proper evidence could end in a vicious backlash. I wouldn't want the Vanderson house risking their dignity on little more than dreams.”
“Cait, of course they have proof. The Vanderson household is swimming in rumours of everything they've done for the people!” Jayce exclaimed, beaming with the same positivity that Powder shared.
Vi scoffed and rolled her eyes ever so slightly. “What a joke.”
Powder jabbed Vi in her side again. “With all due respect, lady Kiramman, sir Talis, we aren't really a… house.”
Jayce’s beaming smile dipped as his brows furrowed in confusion, wrestling to process what she said.
“Haven’t you been granted equal standing to that of nobility?” Caitlyn said with a twinge of confusion woven into her formal tone. “If so, Piltover considers you a house. May I ask… has your acclimation to society been going well?” Her gaze, inconspicuously, landed on the redhead, who slouched against the back of his seat. Never once in her life had she thought she'd meet someone with worse etiquette than Jayce.
“Uh… that's not—” Vi raised an arm in front of Powder, cutting her off before she could speak more on the matter.
“Thank you for your concern, but—” She eyed the cupcake resting idle on Caitlyn’s plate with barely two scoops missing from the pastry. “That's not what we're here to talk about, cupcake.”
“C-cupca—” Caitlyn swore she could feel a vein pop somewhere on her face. “Have you lost your mind!?”
“Well, I was sure you lost yours the moment you insulted my family.”
“I did no such thing!”
“Bullshit.”
“Vi! Enough.” Powder retorted firmly with a half shout. “Please excuse him, he's stubbornly protective.” She fled into her cup of tea, trying to find refuge from her embarrassment.
The silence that followed stretched on. Vi and Caitlyn were engrossed in a war of intense stares—his eyes were an enigma, bright, yet also muted; a fresh sheet of snow in the night. A complex shade of grey, not easily distinguished from blue and silver.
After a moment of restless fidgeting and twitchy eyebrows, Vi withdrew into the sofa, leaning against the plush chair with a defeated sigh.
“Protective must be an understatement.” She murmured as she returned to her tea, scrunching her nose. “The tea has gone cold. I suppose it's best we continue this at another, more appropriate time.”
“Sorry to disappoint, cupcake, but I don't think there will be another time.” Vi rose from her seat, offering an open palm to Powder “C’mon Pow.”
Jayce, freed from the weight of their invisible war, rose from his seat. “W- wai- wait, wait, this could seriously improve lives, maybe you should reconsider, stay—”
“No, we won't.” Vi cut him off with a sharp glare from over he shoulder. “We don't need anything from entitled caged birds. Approach her in any way, and I will file a complaint to the Kiramman house.”
Shit. Even those words didn't make her feel better.