Chapter Text
“Are you absolutely sure about this, Caitlyn?”
Caitlyn’s father looked around worryingly at the apartment that she had decided to call home for the foreseeable future.
Caitlyn drew back the musty curtains, and clicked her tongue in annoyance. “We’ve been over this, Father,” she replied tersely. They had indeed been over the situation. Extensively.
Having graduated with full honors, and passing the bar exam with ease, Caitlyn had her pick of employers. Every law firm in Piltover had offered her a job. But, Caitlyn had no interest in the fancy treachery of the upper city's higher class. It was like the bullying from her childhood, but with nicer clothes. She had watched her parents, in particular her mother, succumb to the backstabbing and political games of the high society far too often, and wished no part of it.
Instead, she had decided to take a risk, and opened up her own firm. A firm with a very specific goal in mind, and a very specific clientele. She had found a small office that suited her just fine in the Undercity, and had started a small legal counsel operation. Her goal was to help those who would need it the most, offering her legal services pro bono, since those people would also most likely be unable to afford it. She had raided her life savings, setting aside enough money for at least a few years. She hoped to have caused enough of a change by then, to draw in some other philanthropists who would donate to her cause.
And that meant that for now, she was moving into this dingy apartment. The floor creaked, the curtains reeked of mold, and the hallway was only partially lit, due to several broken bulbs that nobody seemed to care enough about to replace. Even still, this building was one of the cleanest and most acceptable she could find in the area.
It was only normal then, that her father was apprehensive of the situation. While Caitlyn was certain about her endeavor, she was not stupid. She knew this area was dangerous, and very unlike the bright mansions she grew up in. Still, the fact that she had it easy growing up, meant that she felt all the more obligated to help those less fortunate, in any way she could.
“Well, if you’re certain…” Caitlyn’s father said, clearly uncertain himself. He walked over and pulled her into a tight hug. “Be safe, Cait,” he whispered in her ear. “We’re only a phone call away, you understand?”
Caitlyn nodded, but didn’t immediately respond. She did understand what he meant, but wasn’t planning on taking up on the offer. This was her trial, her chance to prove that she could make a change in this city. Not by lying and backstabbing in the chambers of politics, but by truly and honestly giving help to those who needed it. An attempt to show the world, and her mother, that there were better ways.
“I will be, Father,” she finally said. “Thanks for understanding. And for talking to Mother.”