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Cass doesn’t remember the last time she was in Ionia. Corinne was probably old enough to remember some stuff but Cass knows she doesn’t remember this. Doesn’t remember the day melting away into a cool still sticky night, doesn’t remember the lights coming on one by one as the sun starts to set, doesn’t remember the low excited buzz, the smells of hot oil and sweet sugar.
She lets Corinne feed her another bite of the fried noodles out of the plate made of what must be the thinnest slice of wood, so thin it’s flexible enough to be folded into a boat. Fascinating. Compostable. Cheap. Convenient. Why don’t they have that in Piltover? Probably the lack of trees.
Already the crowd is starting to grow around them. Already, Mom and Mother have started drifting off into the distance like they have a tendency to do, lost in their own world. It’s cute. It’s kinda annoying. It is what it is. As if Mother can read her mind, that tall head with hair that used to be the same color as hers but is now starting to show the first few streaks of grey pauses in its bobbing.
Mother’s eyes find them immediately and Mom drifts to a halt too.
They’re too far away for speaking to work but Corinne’s head turns to them, then back.
“Let’s go before they ditch us for real,” Corinne says with a laugh.
Cass chuckles and follows.
It’s about twenty minutes, three turns, and a whole lot of people later that Cass finds herself alone. It’s not quite on purpose but she’s been watching this machine that makes these little fluffy cakes for at least a good minute now, fascinated by the way it manages to portion out the viscous batter just right. It does splatter a little though, which is what she’s been trying to figure out an improvement for. Is this a nozzle shape issue? Could the height that hot tray is under the nozzle be better adjusted? Would that cause other problems like the batter accidentally being cooked in the nozzle?
All this to say that when she looks up, neither Corinne nor her parents are at all visible.
Well.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
It is, however, the first time she’s gotten separated from them in not-Piltover and while she’s learnt some Ionian from both Grandfather and Mother it’s kind of a little different to explain that she is fourteen and lost. Different because that’s embarrassing. Being lost as a teenager is embarrassing in ways that she can’t even put into words.
She looks down at her watch.
At least she knows that the fireworks start in about an hour or so, knows where the family spot is and can make her way back there then.
Cass slowly lets herself be carried along by the crowd, her boots getting a little dusty from the gravel, drifting to the edges of the path, further from the heat of the stalls, closer to the cool summer night air still a little humid. Her hair is wavier here, she’s realized, the same way it gets before it rains at home.
She gets spit out near a small clearing. It’s a little dark here, which is why there aren’t families standing by the edge of the bamboo, sharing their own food—she briefly thinks back to Corinne feeding her noodles and wonders what else she’s missing out on now. But more importantly, it’s quiet and cool and Cass kind of wants to rest for a little before she continues on in this crowd.
She ducks past a tree or two. Do they count as trees? Bamboo is a grass, is it not? Shoots? Perhaps this is not important. Mother would know.
It is really dark here but as she stands under the light of the full moon her eyes begin to adjust. It’s a small patch of grass surrounded by well, taller grasses.
Cass smiles a little to herself, then plops down onto the floor.
The grass is cool, not damp nor dry. Just the perfect softness for her to splay out like a starfish and worry later about stains or stuff like that. It’s fine. It’s too dark for people to see and it’s not like they have to keep up appearances now. She’ll just hide behind Corinne. That’s fine.
She stares up into the sky.
It’s too bright for most of the stars to be seen—that’s how the full moon works—but she can still catch the glimpse of one or two.
There’s the quiet clearing of a throat, to which Cass does not shriek, nor does she jump, though she does flinch a little in surprise.
“Might you be lost, child?”
Cass looks up into eyes that are the same as Mother’s and now also Corinne’s.
This person isn’t definitely neither Mother nor Corinne though. If anything, her hair is curled into waves that are almost the same as Cass’ own.
“Well,” says Cass. “I know where I need to be in about half an hour.”
A quiet hum. A serious, warm gaze almost familiar.
“I see,” says the person. “Would you mind if I sat with you then?”
Cass takes in the rest of this person, takes in the cheekbones and the set of her brows, the perfectly done bowtie, those diamond-shaped earrings.
“I wouldn’t mind,” she mutters, “Grandmother.”
Grandmother startles and god, even the way she startles is so similar to how Mother does that it sends a twinge through Cass’ heart.
“You are her, aren’t you?” Cass feels her mouth betray her in favor of her heart even as she pulls her knees to her chest, tucks her head closer even as she keeps an eye on Grandmother. “Cassandra Kiramman the first?”
Those blue eyes are so, so wide.
“The first?”
Cass tries to shrink even further into herself.
“Yeah,” she says. “There well—” she shrugs “—there’s a second.”
“Oh,” says Grandmother, the word a single breathy sound of wonder. “A second.” There’s a thin laugh. “I might need a second.”
Cass nods.
She gets that.
In the dim moonlight she takes in the details of the woman whose painting sits in the main hall, expression austere. There’s another painting, she knows. Mother’s moved it somewhere into the back, somewhere less obvious but sometimes she’ll see it, marvel at how tiny Mother looked, how put together the woman whose name she bears looks like.
She’s wondered if they named her wrong.
She has.
She doesn’t know all that much about Grandmother but surely Grandmother hadn’t been a teen with fidgety fingers and a foot in her mouth. The Kiramman women speak precisely—it’s not a thing Mother’s ever specifically said but Mother’s always been really good with words—Corinne’s better at this but Cass is a jumble of too fast thoughts that burst out too quickly.
Like this one.
She probably didn’t have to say that there was a second. Probably shouldn’t say that it’s her.
Grandmother looks a little out of sorts still, a little dazed. She does also look a little glowy which y’know, probably fair since she’s a spirit or something.
Cass reaches out, rests a hand on a surprisingly solid shoulder.
Well, that’s one hypothesis proven.
Grandmother doesn’t quite jump but she does twitch a little, looking down at Cass’ hand, then up at Cass’ eyes and my god she thinks she has a feeling she knows why Grandfather sometimes gets that distant sad look because those eyes are Mothers.
They’re the same.
“Uhm,” says Cass. “Are you alright?”
Grandmother’s eyes widen even further, then there’s a small, wry smile.
“I am, child.”
Grandmother almost straightens under her touch. “I appreciate the comfort, nonetheless, and apologize for the lack of decorum.”
“It’s cool,” says Cass, quickly removing her hand, bringing it back to her lap. “Sorry, I should have asked.”
“Is it you?”
Her head shoots back up at the question, mouth going bone dry. She knows they both know she understood, can see the hope in Grandmother’s eyes, that burning curiosity barely suppressed.
“Yes,” she says quietly, ducking her head.
A short silence. Then Grandmother’s voice, smooth, calm.
“Has it been difficult?”
Again her head lifts.
“Difficult?”
Grandmother’s face does a little twist, a little frown, a distant look. “I won’t pretend to know what happened or how it occurred but I can’t imagine that Caitlyn took my passing well, despite our differences.” Those blue eyes find their way to Cass’ own. “A name can be a heavy burden to bear, especially one with relationships as complex as mine.”
Cass chews on her lower lip.
“Mom says Mother named me.”
Grandmother’s head tilts, ever so slightly.
“I mean uhm, Caitlyn,” says Cass, tongue stumbling on the unfamiliar syllables. It feels weird, so weird to use Mother’s first name. Mother’s always been Mother and oh—
“...I see.” Grandmother’s eyes soften. “You have her hair. Not her eyes, though yours are beautiful nonetheless.”
Cass blushes a little at the praise.
“I have Mom’s eyes. Corinne has Mother’s.”
“Corinne?”
Cass nods. “Corinne’s three years older. She’s got purple hair like our other grandmother is what Mom says. She’s got Mother’s eyes. Your eyes.” Cass fiddles with her fingers again. “She’s the one who’s more like you, actually. She’s better at talking to strangers and figuring out what to say when stuff goes awry. I’m the misfit.”
Grandmother’s full attention is turned on her and Cass doesn’t know why she can’t stop talking.
“I’m not really—” she looks down to the grass, picking at a blade with her fingers “—this whole Kiramman thing’s not something I know what to do with. I just want to make things instead of talk to people. Sometimes I wish we weren’t us, you know? Like—”
“Like Caitlyn did when she was younger,” Grandmother interjects with a soft smile. “You might have my name, child, but you have her spirit.”
Cass’ jaw drops. “Mother?”
Oh Corinne is going to want to hear this.
“Just like her,” Grandmother rests a gentle hand on her knee, patting it. “You’re right where you should be, Cassandra. It’s wise to question the merit of your birthright, it’s understandable to feel its weight and want to figure out first who you are before you work out who you must be.”
Cass’ fingers press together, hard.
“It sounds like you have a good family around you too,” Grandmother says. “Am I wrong?”
Cass shakes her head vehemently.
“They’re wonderful. They’re the best and I wouldn’t trade that for the world.”
“Then you’ll be able to weather whatever comes. Together.” Grandmother’s hand is warm, solid, comforting. “It’s never been easy to be a Kiramman and I suspect it never will be but it sounds like your Mother’s been doing that admirably.”
Cass nods.
“Mother’s really good at it—” Cass makes a face “—I don’t know how she does it but she’s really good at dealing with all the super annoying people who just want money or something from her.”
Grandmother’s face contorts into the strangest shape, half like she wants to laugh, half like she wants to cry. She doesn’t say anything though, so Cass continues.
“Mom’s not as good at it but Mom’s really good at making jokes and looking scary.”
Grandmother blinks a few times.
“Looking scary?”
“It’s the tattoos I think,” Cass says.
“The tattoos.”
Cass nods. Then she tilts her head. “Have you ever met Mom? Uh—” she scratches the back of her hand because it’s so, so weird to use Mom’s first name “—Vi?”
The relief on Grandmother’s face is almost palpable, the way her expression loosens immediately, her eyes drifting off in that same look Mother has when she’s thinking about a memory.
“Briefly,” Grandmother murmurs. “She showed much spirit.”
Cass chuckles.
“That’s one way to describe Mom alright.”
Grandmother’s eyes soften. Her eyes dart briefly away, then back. She swallows and her hands press together, oh so familiar.
“Cassandra,” she says and in the darkness of the night her eyes shimmer like stars. “Can you tell me more about your family?”
Oh.
“Of course,” Cass says, scooting a little closer. “Grandfather and Mother get along all the time except when they play mahjong during the New Year. Mom never joins because she says she doesn’t want to be part of bloodbath but really I think it’s cos Corinne made fun of her one year for saying the Ionian swearwords wrongly.”
She looks up at Grandmother who stares back at her with rapt attention.
“Corinne’s thinking of following in Mother’s footsteps into the Wardens but she hasn’t said she wants to yet. I think Mom knows. Grandfather’s probably guessed. I’d bet Mother has an inkling because Mother’s Mother but I think she never really wanted any of us to do that. Something about it being unsafe.”
Grandmother’s face crumples again into a wet laugh. She dabs at the corners of her eyes, then turns.
“And you?”
Cass shakes her head. “I want to go to the Academy. I’m not really sure what I want to do when I’m there but I think I can figure it out. I’ve told Mother. She just asked me to please not make anything that explodes. Mom choked on her soup at that one.”
Grandmother nods.
It’s weird, Cass thinks, how easy it is to keep talking. It’s like she’s known Grandmother all her life. And maybe she has. Maybe she’s seen Grandmother enough, known enough of the parts that make her up, that make up Mother, can piece together the bits of this person whose love and care for the people who love and care for Cass have held strong through the length of space time that has separated them.
“Oh. We also have three dogs, Ham, Bee, Chicken and a cat, Butter.”
“I take it your Mother did not name them,” Grandmother says dryly.
“Actually,” Cass says. “Mother named Butter. But in our defense Chicken is almost fifteen years old and Corinne named him to start because she didn’t get to name me. Then Mom named Bee and I think Grandfather suggested Ham.”
“He did not!”
Cass laughs at the look of horror on Grandmother’s face.
“He did, but it was partly my suggestion too.” She grins impishly. “In my defense I was a baby.”
“We do sometimes do things that we look back on and regret,” Grandmother’s voice is mostly calm but there’s that quiet lilt of amusement to it that keeps Cass’ grin on her face. “What more when we are merely children.”
“Ham is really cute,” Cass says. “He’s got a long swishy tail. I don’t have photos on me but next time I’ll—”
The words cut off, strangling in her throat as she meets Grandmother’s gaze.
“Is there going to be a next time?”
Grandmother’s face softens. “I think you’re old enough that I shan’t coddle you. I don’t think so.”
“But Cori and Mother and—” Cass bites her lip.
Grandmother’s eyes soften further as she reaches a hand out. “Meeting you, Cassandra, has been such a gift.”
Cass ducks her head. “They call me Cass.”
“Cass,” Grandmother smiles. “I went by that for a while too, in my youth.”
“Is it alright?”
“Is what alright, Cass?”
She swallows, hands trembling. “That I have your name. I’m not—not like you. I mean, Mother says I’m a pretty good shot, says you were a really good one but in all other ways I’m kind of as far from you as it’s possible for a Kiramman kid to be, I think. You’re all poise and grace and—”
A finger presses to her lips. Cass follows the stretch of that hand all the way back to those blue eyes that she doesn’t have.
“Cass,” Grandmother says, hand drifting over to her shoulder. “I’ve known you for the span of minutes and I can tell that you have a good heart. You’re kind and thoughtful, maybe a little impulsive, certainly very brave.”
Cass’ heart leaps in her throat, squeezes tight and soft but unbelievably tender.
Grandmother squeezes her shoulder.
“Your name is yours, darling. It was mine once but now it is yours. It is yours to make with what you will of it. You should never have to think if it is alright, nor should you concern yourself with what I, or anyone else would think if it. You, my child, are your own person. That is a beautiful freedom to have and I would never dare to take that from you.”
“I don’t want you to go,” the words spill from her lips. “I wish you were with us.”
Grandmother’s eyes shimmer, the evening ocean after sunset. “And I would love to spend more time with you but the time waits for no one and this has already been a gift beyond compare.”
She’s fourteen and certainly too big for this, doesn’t even know if it’s alright but Cass turns and buries as much of herself as she possibly can into Grandmother’s arms. Grandmother is warm, solid, a little tingly with the scent of lavender and an all-too familiar hint of rosewater that has tears welling up in her eyes.
“I am so proud of the family you have and so glad to have met you, Cass.”
With all she can, Cass squeezes Grandmother real, real tight.
“I love you,” Cass says.
“I love you too,” Grandmother squeezes her back, deceptively strong. “Send my love to your family, to Butter, Chicken, Fish, and Bee, to Corinne, to your Mom, to your Grandfather, to your Mother.”
There’s a soft, choked sound.
“I will, Grandmother.”
When they pull apart, Grandmother’s eyes brim with tears but she smiles through them so Cass tries, tries her hardest to do just the same.