Chapter Text
Caitlyn Kiramman arrives on the island already knowing she is late.
Not late in the way Piltover uses the word - no missed deadlines, no delayed approvals, no memos stamped urgent and left unanswered. The boat had left and arrived precisely when scheduled. The crates were packed efficiently, itemized, double-checked. Every form had been signed.
She is late in the way that matters here. The island has already come alive without her.
She stands at the end of the dock for a long moment before stepping fully onto the planks, one hand resting lightly on the railing. The water below is impossibly clear, certainly clearer than back in Piltover. She can see fish flickering in the shallows, quick silver movements, and the air smells clean and fresh.
It is quieter than she expected. Not empty, not still. Just… unhurried.
In Piltover, mornings announce themselves loudly: bells, whistles, voices echoing off stone. Here, the sounds layer gently. Waves lap, birds call to one another, trees rustle in the wind. Somewhere inland, an axe strikes wood in a steady rhythm.
Caitlyn exhales. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding herself. If she had felt any nerves before or during the trip, she hadn’t let herself acknowledge them.
As she looks around, she notes that the island feels smaller than the maps suggested. Or perhaps it only seems that way because the space is shaped by people rather than carefully documented plans. Paths curve instead of running straight. Houses sit at odd angles, as if placed where someone felt like stopping rather than where they were told to build.
It is… charming. Disarmingly so.
She shifts the weight of the small bag at her side, overstuffed with books on local flora and fauna that she had crammed in from her parents’ library only hours earlier, and steps onto the sand. Her boots leave crisp impressions that feel immediately intrusive.
You are a guest, she thinks, straightening her posture as much as possible, suddenly feeling as out of place as a sore thumb. Act like one.
Just as she is about to take another step, her head whips to the left as new voices carry over the beach.
Footsteps approach, and Caitlyn watches as two figures walk down a path from what appears to be some sort of town center or plaza.
I wonder what stone they used to lay down that path, Caitlyn thinks to herself, leaning forward slightly to study the paving and the cut of the rock, before admonishing herself for getting distracted. She shifts her attention back to the approaching party.
One of them is younger than she expected, slight but alert, eyes sharp with intelligence. He walks easily, hands loose at his sides, gaze flicking from her to the crates to the boat and back again.
But the other-
The other stops Caitlyn’s breath entirely.
She is tall, though likely still a few inches shorter than Caitlyn, broad-shouldered, posture loose in a way that suggests strength held in reserve. Her pink hair is cut short, messy, like she’s never bothered to tame it. When she is a few feet away, Caitlyn notices there’s a scar on her lip - old, pale, sexy.
Caitlyn blushes and looks back at the other person, before straightening instinctively. She hears her mother’s voice in her head: You do not need to know everything, dear, but you must always appear as though you do.
“Hello,” she says, turning fully to face them. “I didn’t realize anyone would be up quite this early.”
The other woman’s eyes narrow - not cruelly, but sharply, like she’s trying to decide what Caitlyn is made of.
“You’re on our island,” she says. Not a question.
“Yes,” Caitlyn nods. “I hope that’s all right.”
The younger one steps forward slightly, not quite in between Caitlyn and the other woman, but certainly into an intermediary position.
“That depends who you are,” he says.
Caitlyn nods. “Oh, yes, of course. I’m Caitlyn Kiramman. I’ll be joining the development program.”
The shift is immediate, as soon as her last name escapes her tongue. A reaction she is unfortunately accustomed to; when your family is one of the wealthiest, most influential dynasties in Runeterra, people tend to form quite strong opinions.
The other woman’s jaw tightens. Her shoulders go rigid, like a door slamming shut.
Ah, Caitlyn thinks. There it is.
“Piltover,” the woman says flatly. “Kiramman.”
“Yes,” Caitlyn nods again, then adds quickly, “Though, I’m here in a personal capacity.”
The woman laughs once - short, incredulous. “They always say that.”
The younger one clears his throat gently. “I’m Ekko,” he says, offering Caitlyn a small, polite nod, extending his hand which Caitlyn accepts as professionally as possible. “This is Vi.”
Vi.
The name settles somewhere low in Caitlyn’s chest.
“It’s lovely to meet you both,” Caitlyn says, meaning it.
Vi looks unconvinced.
“You planning on inspecting us,” Vi asks, “or living here?”
“Living,” Caitlyn says, then pauses. “If I’m allowed.”
Ekko tilts his head. “I’ll be honest, Caitlyn, this wasn’t in the last briefing we received.”
“It was approved late.” Caitlyn shifts nervously. “I volunteered.”
Vi’s eyes flick to the crates, which are now being carefully lowered from the boat.
“Did you bring your whole house with you?” Vi asks.
Caitlyn flushes. “Just the necessities.”
Ekko’s gaze sharpens with interest as he studies Caitlyn's items. “Those look like reinforced iron braces.”
“Yes.”
“And treated hardwood. Not cheap.”
“Yes.”
One of the crates hits the dock and makes a loud clanking sound. “And a whole lot of coin,” Vi adds, voice edged.
Caitlyn hesitates. “A modest amount.”
Vi stares and clenches her jaw. “We don’t need your money.”
“I know,” Caitlyn replies quickly. “I’m not here to-”
“To fix us?” Vi cuts in.
“No,” Caitlyn says. “I’m here to learn.”
Vi doesn’t look convinced. “Where are you putting all of this stuff anyway? Most people on the island live in tents.”
“Oh, yes, I know,” Caitlyn replies. “I heard you’ve developed a system to produce heavy canvas with reinforced seams, and that you’ve been using treated cypress frames with iron caps.”
Ekko and Vi share a glance that Caitlyn cannot read, and Ekko cracks a small smile. “Yeah. Piltie’s done her research.”
Caitlyn flushes again, looking down, and clears her throat. “But, yes, I've brought a tent along with me. I'll make everything fit, don't worry.”
Ekko nods behind him. “Cool. Well, we can show you where the housing plots are,” he says. “Help you get settled in.”
Caitlyn smiles and nods, and Vi audibly scoffs.
Vi glances at him. “Are you sure?”
Ekko meets her gaze evenly. “We can handle one newcomer.”
Vi exhales sharply through her nose but turns away, already walking. “Fine. Do what you want.”
Caitlyn watches her go, something tight and uncomfortable twisting in her chest.
She hadn’t expected a warm welcome, but she also hadn’t expected this: immediately feeling too clean, too precise, too much. She was under the assumption that when she arrived, she would mostly be ignored, left to her own devices. But it seemed her arrival had ruffled some feathers, to say the least.
Ekko sighs and shakes his head, more amused than annoyed. “She’s... protective,” he says quietly, not unkindly. “Give her time. She’ll come around”
“Of course,” Caitlyn replies politely, nodding. She hopes it’s true.
—-
The housing plot allotted to Caitlyn is near the river, tucked away from the central plaza. Caitlyn likes it immediately, not for the location, but for the way it feels intentionally modest. No grand statements. No dominance of space. It’s wholly unlike her parents’ home in Piltover.
She sets down her bag carefully before the cleared space and thanks the sailors who have carried her things over as politely as possible, before watching as they head back to the dock.
“Is there anything I should know that I couldn’t have studied prior?” she asks Ekko once they are alone. “Rules? Customs?”
Ekko smiles. “Don’t move Jinx’s things. Even if you think they’re trash.”
Caitlyn nods solemnly. “Understood.”
“And ask before you change anything big,” he adds. “People here build together.”
“I would never-” Caitlyn stops herself. “I mean. I will.”
Ekko watches her thoughtfully. “You really want to be here.”
“Yes,” Caitlyn says. “I do.”
Ekko offers a small smile. “Then you’ll figure it out.”
Caitlyn hums and shifts her weight, hoping her nerves aren’t visible. “Yes, I certainly hope so.”
—-
Caitlyn’s first mistake happens just a few hours later after she has rather crudely put up her tent and dragged her belongings inside.
On a walk around the small island, journal in hand to take note of the local wildlife, she notices the ramp near the river almost immediately - a half-finished incline, planks stacked neatly nearby, nails lined up with care. Someone has been working on it slowly, deliberately.
Someone with pink hair, who’s hammering away.
I could help, she thinks.
She doesn’t mean pay for it. Just… contribute. She could speed things up. Make it easier for everyone. Perhaps she could look at the design plans and offer some second opinions.
She approaches Vi, who is assembling with focused intensity.
“I noticed the ramp from back there,” Caitlyn says carefully. “I could-”
“No.”
The word lands hard. The hammering continues.
Caitlyn blinks. “I just meant-”
“The ramp gets built when it gets built,” Vi says, not looking at her. “By the people who live here.”
“I live here now,” Caitlyn says more assertively than she feels.
Vi looks up then, eyes blazing. “Do you?”
Caitlyn tilts her chin up, feigning confidence. “I want to.”
Vi turns back to her work. “Then start by listening.”
Caitlyn burrows her eyebrows and huffs before stepping away, annoyed to feel her heart pounding - not with anger, but something closer to shame. She crosses her arms, aware that her mother would certainly scold her for appearing petty, and walks back the way she had come.
Ekko appears at her side moments later, a clearly handmade clay cup in his hands.
“Peace offering,” he says. “British people like tea, right?”
She accepts it gratefully. “Did I already mess up?”
“A little,” he admits. “But not beyond repair.”
“I just wanted to help,” she states solemnly. “I didn’t mean to step on her toes.”
Caitlyn watches Vi work from a distance - the careful strength, the way she pauses to adjust a plank instead of forcing it.
“I know,” Ekko says. “She’s not great with change. Don’t take it personally.”
Caitlyn sips the tea. It’s an herbal blend, unlike anything she’s had before. She resists the urge to whip out her notebook and take notes on the complex flavors. With Ekko standing in front of her, she opts for a different option. “Do you think I’ll fit in here?”
She cringes as soon as she says it - it’s an honest question to ask someone who’s practically a stranger, but something about Ekko lessens the blow and makes the inquiry slightly less embarrassing.
Ekko laughs. “Sure. Eventually.”
Caitlyn frowns. “Eventually sounds… far away.”
Ekko chuckles again. “Welcome to the island.”
—-
By evening, Caitlyn has completed her lap around most of the island and even unpacked a few of her things. Her tent is simple, functional, even cozy. Even so, she finds herself resisting every instinct to put in a request for a small cabin to be built immediately.
She certainly has the money for it, but how would it look if she couldn’t even live in a tent for a few weeks? The current residents have been roughing it out since they arrived on the completely deserted land a few months ago at the beginning of the Spring.
She sits outside her tent on a small bench as the sun dips low, painting the island in a golden hue. Despite some of the island's less-than-sunny personalities, this was something she could get used to.
When the sun dips below the horizon, Caitlyn stands and stretches, turning to head back into her tent. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Vi pass by, carrying a bundle of wood.
Their eyes meet for a brief moment. Caitlyn doesn’t speak. Neither does Vi. In fact, Caitlyn notices with much too excitement, Vi doesn’t even scoff, or shake her head, or clench her jaw - she just holds Caitlyn’s gaze before walking away.
And for now, that was enough.