((Real sweet soundtrack you got there, hope you like Vris<>Kan.))
Sometimes Kanaya didn't know. Sometimes, Vriska would stalk past her, the urge to break a cue ball or eight written all over her face. And Kanaya would carry on with her own business, no longer feeling the urge to get up and shoosh her into calmness (or as calm as Vriska Serket could get). She'd sew garments and add cerulean trim before plucking it all out and replacing it with jade, and she didn't even feel much different from before. It was easy to sound content when all the other party saw was a row of jade green letters on the screen. When it came down to it, Kanaya really didn't want to hear about her friends' sloppy makeouts, but she'd stopped being bothered by the red relationships within her social circle a long time ago.
All the time, Vriska knew exactly what was going on. She'd throw herself down beside Kanaya and annoy her until she got a response, and once-readily available gentle comfort of Kanaya's touch was now a luxury, a luxury that only the worst of moods could elicit. Vriska could drag people over just to get into fights with them, and when they'd stormed out in a huff and all she got was a tired talking-to and long silences. All the time, it was like a stranger was sitting in an even more foreign hive, and eventually Vriska stopped wondering why she was trying to draw a response from this troll. She just did.
The world saw two moirails, standing side-by-side. The two trolls felt a gap, widening by the day. Nobody ever saw them argue: they seemed perfectly at ease with each other. But how can you argue, when you can't even speak?
Kanaya was unperturbed as she made the journey to Vriska's hive, as opposed to Vriska visiting hers. She was empty-handed save for a small roll of paper.
A scrap of paper with unfamiliar, loopy handwriting stuck to the side of Vriska's recuperacoon had only one neat sentence written in jade green ink: "You/I don't know me/you at all."
The piles of cue ball shards that day were smaller than usual.
FILL: TEAM ENGLISH
Sometimes Kanaya didn't know. Sometimes, Vriska would stalk past her, the urge to break a cue ball or eight written all over her face. And Kanaya would carry on with her own business, no longer feeling the urge to get up and shoosh her into calmness (or as calm as Vriska Serket could get). She'd sew garments and add cerulean trim before plucking it all out and replacing it with jade, and she didn't even feel much different from before. It was easy to sound content when all the other party saw was a row of jade green letters on the screen. When it came down to it, Kanaya really didn't want to hear about her friends' sloppy makeouts, but she'd stopped being bothered by the red relationships within her social circle a long time ago.
All the time, Vriska knew exactly what was going on. She'd throw herself down beside Kanaya and annoy her until she got a response, and once-readily available gentle comfort of Kanaya's touch was now a luxury, a luxury that only the worst of moods could elicit. Vriska could drag people over just to get into fights with them, and when they'd stormed out in a huff and all she got was a tired talking-to and long silences. All the time, it was like a stranger was sitting in an even more foreign hive, and eventually Vriska stopped wondering why she was trying to draw a response from this troll. She just did.
The world saw two moirails, standing side-by-side. The two trolls felt a gap, widening by the day. Nobody ever saw them argue: they seemed perfectly at ease with each other. But how can you argue, when you can't even speak?
Kanaya was unperturbed as she made the journey to Vriska's hive, as opposed to Vriska visiting hers. She was empty-handed save for a small roll of paper.
A scrap of paper with unfamiliar, loopy handwriting stuck to the side of Vriska's recuperacoon had only one neat sentence written in jade green ink: "You/I don't know me/you at all."
The piles of cue ball shards that day were smaller than usual.