Cassandra sat in in her home office behind her desk, white-gloved fingers stirring her tea absentmindedly. Her back was rather tense, pin-straight and formal. Ever since Caitlyn was a child, she was independent. Stubborn, she always had her own mind. She didn't do well with control, as in, being controlled. She seemed to maintain control over everything else, Cassandra had observed. Similarly, as did she.

But despite that, her daughter was no mama's girl. Instead of following in her footsteps and prolonging the Kiramman family legacy, she struggled. Not in academics or passion, she had both exceptional grades and a wonderful aim for sharpshooting. No, the public was her biggest issue. The dear girl had no connections.

Cassandra herself had observed her behavior, as any attentive mother would. That child of hers was unique. She didn't crave ulterior peer validation. She kept her head down in lessons and spent most of her time at the shooting range, in the forest, or alone in her room. This baffled the matriarch, of course. Which lead her to this exact conversation, her fifteen-year-old daughter herself perched in front of her, on mirroring sides of the desk. Just akin to a mirror, she thought. She was all Caitlyn could be, and Caitlyn was all Cassandra could've been. Mother and daughter...

"You must stop hiding from the press" Cassandra started pointedly, "You are a part of the Kiramman house. Begin to act like it, my darling girl, or you will desecrate our name. You may not understand, but you will once you become a mother. This isn't solely about me, Caitlyn. Your...childish isolation has gone on long enough. You cannot make it through life alone, not as you think you can. You are your own girl, I admire that" She said, leaning slightly forward, eyes hardening. "Do not abuse your differences"