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During your first week at the Kiramman estate, Caitlyn hardly speaks to you at all. She's too busy studying you.
The way you walk all-too-cautiously around the manor, looking over your shoulder every other step. The way flinch—with subtlety—when one of her parents touches you, no matter how gently. The way you always look the slightest bit overwhelmed during mealtimes when the spread is presented by the chef. The way you eat less and less through out the day as if you might explode if you take another bite.
The way you don't really speak at all.
She knows from family meetings that her parents plan in sending you to some form of therapy; speech or otherwise. She wouldn't argue that you needed it, instead she'd argue that you wouldn't willfully comply. She's noticed that whenever you're given an instruction your first instinct is to resist.
The first night you spent with them, Cassandra had tried to get you into the bath. The second you saw the giant tub filled with steaming hot water, you ran and hid so deep in one of the tiniest crevices in the house it took them hours to find you. (A maid found you hiding in a cabinet. Nearly scared the poor woman to death.)
On the third night, Tobias had made the grave mistake of trying to put you in Kiramman-branded silk pajamas. They'd had them made just for you. They matched Caitlyn and Cassandra's. He thought it might make you feel Welcome. It was a considerate idea! You just couldn't be bothered to see it that way. You ducked and dodged the man for ages, like the very idea of wearing Kiramman pajamas offended you. (he won in the end. Your running tired you out. You slept the night away peacefully and unknowingly on his chest. In your PJ set.)
Still, even with all of Caitlyn's observing, she still had no idea how to be a good big sister. The two of you were so different, and you weren't exactly the most open twelve-year-old in the world. It was discouraging. Secretly, only in her innermost thoughts, she yearned for a sister. A sibling of any kind, really. A built in best friend. One couldn't scare off with her awkwardness or sometimes distinct lack of social awareness. Someone she could talk to when her mother was being too much. Someone who would understand right off bat.
But then again, maybe she was asking too much of a scared yet defiant twelve-year-old girl from Zaun. It was only your first week, and good things take time, patience, and nurture. Caitlyn has never claimed to be good at waiting.
On night five, thirst wakes Caitlyn up from her slumber.
With clouded eyes, she stumbles from her bed and down the stairs to the kitchen; in search of a quencher. She's hardly registering her own movements as she fetches a glass out of the cabinet and leans over to fill it from the sink. All her senses are still cozy in her bed. Which is probably why it was so easy for you, in all your silent glory, to sneak up on her.
You creep up behind her and hesitantly tap her shoulder. Caitlyn startles half out of her body; squeaking embarrassingly high and dropping her glass on the floor. You gasp, a noise louder than anything she's heard for you since you arrived. She whips her head around to find you staring at her wide-eyed, clutching your own glass to your chest.
Her first real interaction with you and she's already blowing it. Fuck.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean t-to frighten you! You're just so…quiet. Didn't hear you coming." She laughs in an awkward attempt to ease the tension. You continue staring; eyes alternating between her and the glass that just hit the ground.
"…I can clean that up." She murmurs sheepishly as she searches uselessly for a broom. You tilt your head as your eyes follow hers around the room. Once you realize what she's looking for you rush out of the room and return with the broom in hand. She takes it with a surprised, yet grateful expression. You watch her from a few feet away as she sweeps up the glass thoroughly, catching any stray pieces.
As Caitlyn silently berates herself for her clumsy bumbling, you shift from foot to foot; taping your fingers along the glass. She looks over you cautiously.
"…Do you want me to fill that up for you?"
You blink hesitantly before slowly holding your cup out to her. Finally! Success.
She fills your glass and hands it back to you a little too giddily. She was being helpful! That's something big sisters do, right? Your eyes wander up to her occasionally as you take sips from the glass. After a while you raise your head; holding the glass out for her. She blinks in realization as she hesitantly takes the glass. You're sharing with her. Like she can't just get another glass with for her own water. It's sweet in a way. She sits the glass on counter.
"That's alright. I can just get one later."
You tilt your head for a split second before nodding once and walking upstairs quickly. Progress!
Over the next two nights, you Interacted with Caitlyn more than you had all week. Following her around, signaling to her when you had a question. Her parents found it intriguing, but they wouldn't dare disrupt as you start to finally came out of your shell. Caitlyn didn't shoo you away either. She was more than happy to have you trailing her all day. (Even if it meant you signaling her to stop talking sometimes.)
On the seventh day everything went kind of…perfectly. You didn't make a fuss over bathing, you put on your pajamas with no running, and you even fell asleep on Caitlyn's arm as she was reading out loud to you.
(Not on purpose. The book she was reading bored you half to death.)