capeandcowllogs | do you really think you can just put it in a safe behind a painting

[ there have been many, many more times over the past month that karkat's behavior towards ruka has been, in a word, bizarre. he starts a conversation and immediately ends it; approaches her and then leaves; pulls away, moves forward, and retreats again. disappears without a word for days on end, returns, interrupts private moments for no good reason. he's like a tide bound to an erratic moon, rushing high and sinking low without a breath in between.

this time, she's in her room, laying casual on her bed, already in pajamas for the night. the headscarf she's been forced to wear for the past month is strung loose—it covers only one of the strange pink tufts protruding from her head where ears should rest instead. the other, stark in color, is exposed for an obvious reason: at its base, ruka is holding the earpiece of her phone, mid-conversation.

her smile and the content look on her face are forced off in the moment it takes for her to look up; karkat enters with all the quiet and grace of a tidal wave.

she lowers the phone, covering the mouthpiece with her other hand, making no moves to sit up. ]

If it's "nevermind," you've already told me. Sheesh, do you even know how to knock?

Oh my god, who cares about knocking, like you didn't hear me coming. That's not important right now. [ he lets the door swing shut behind him. the way he holds himself is tense, on edge -- not exactly defensive, but prepared to be on the defensive, if necessary. he's nervous. ] And you can take your sass and shove it, I'm serious this time.

Edited 2013-08-15 07:31 (UTC)

[ her head tilt is slow, deliberate, and the look she gives him is tired.

this is the face of someone who's heard that line before.

with a sigh, she uncovers the mouthpiece and returns the phone to her "earwing". ] Hey. Sorry, I'm gonna have to talk to you later, okay?

[ she pauses, listening to the voice on the other end of the line, and after a few seconds of back and forth she finally disconnects. the phone falls to the bed cover, ruka's hand now occupied with fixing the scarf. ]

So, what is it?

[ he inhales, and hesitates -- something she will have seen before. once again, a million reasons why now might not be the best time run through his head, along with what the fuck is he thinking and this is so stupid. for a moment, he has the same doubtful look about him that usually precedes a "nevermind, forget it, go back to what you were doing, i'll talk to you later." for a moment, it doesn't look like anything is going to be any different.

but he's made a fool of himself enough times, and honestly he's getting tired of wasting an entire sylladex card on this stupid piece of jewelry. it's time to put an end to this. ]

I got you a thing. [ he blurts out. smooth. ]

[ it's following pattern easy enough to predict; whatever it is, the prospect of actually saying it is too much for him, so it's inevitable he's going to simply turn on his heel and march right out again. on the one hand, she does want to know what it is that has him so riled up—but on the other, she's exhausted of this run-around, and—

—and the script apparently went through a rewrite, since the last time she heard it. there's a marked measure of surprise in her expression. ]

... A thing?

[ some of the tension in his shoulders loosens, and he exhales in a sigh. finally. why the fuck was that so difficult, past karkat? ]

Yeah, you know. A gift. [ while there may be no backing out now, he still has difficulty meeting her eye, and talks to her shoulder instead. ] I don't know if you'll like it, it's cool if you don't, but I wanted to get you something, after everything. I missed all your ridiculous gift giving human occasions, too.

[ it's a little embarrassing, all told; receiving gifts hasn't been much of a part of ruka's life, before or after her arrival in the city. presents in neo domino were ill-fitting shipments from overseas parents, and ones here were few from invested adults, regulated to holidays with her makeshift family, or romantic tokens at a moment's notice. gifts from friends, simply for being friends...

when was the last time she received something like that?

cautious, she braces her hands against the bed, pushing herself up to kneeling. ]

You know, you don't have to do something like that for me. [ her tone is softer now, the way of someone slowly turning a doorknob and gently easing it open—of providing the silent way out, for someone needing a quick escape. no chastisement, or judgment, but a simple offering.

he's made so many flights, after all. ]

[ a moment's hesitation, a flicker of eyes in the direction of the door, briefly considering the out she'd given him. the thought is quickly dismissed, however. he squares his shoulders a little, and shakes his head. ]

I said I wanted to, not that I had to. [ his tone is an odd mix of impatient and nervous. ] Anyway, it's moot. I already got it.

[ whatever "it" is, he's sure doing a lot more talking about it than he's doing showing it. ]

And before you say anything, I know it's totally inaccurate and if you hate it, that's fine, I only saw it once, and my drawing is shit, the fact that Danger was able to produce something even marginally attractive with my near illegible scrawling as a reference is nothing short of a miracle, but.

[ he swallows. he moves forward, until he's standing at the foot of the bed, close enough that she will be able to get a good look, when he holds out his hand, and withdraws the necklace from within his sylladex. the pendant is made from delicately woven and twisted wires, more intricate than anything human hands could have produced. the general shape will be familiar to her -- the near ouroboros, the general placement of the wings and claws, but the details are inaccurate, stylized. it's strung on a simple chain.

it looks very steampunk. ]

[ there's a scrunch to her brow at first, perplexed—the presentation throws her off, looking something like a stylized crescent moon with sun-copper veins, but those protrusions... that claw.

breath comes out in something like a scoffing sigh, but a smile pulls at one side of her mouth. ]

Crimson's not just a name, you know.

[ even with the smile, (when does he ever see her smile without it being sarcastic?) and the lack of distaste his empathy picks up from her, he still recoils, slightly -- the arm extended towards her pulls back, towards his body, his shoulders rise with tension, and he frowns, dropping his gaze to the pendant. ]

What the fuck did you expect me to do, sculpt it out of solid ruby? I just told you it was inaccurate, god, did everything I said just fly in one auricular sponge clot and out the other or what?

[ she might notice that he hasn't touched the chain with his skin -- his hand is, oddly, covered with one of the gloves he uses for his ill advised vigilante exploits.

wouldn't want to contaminate it with his insecurity and neuroses, after all. ]

Edited 2013-08-25 06:08 (UTC)

Oh, put a sock in it for once, will you? [ calm down. ] I'm only teasing.

[ it was that or get sappy, and what a mess that would be. she remembers, of course, the painting she'd been working on for karkat earlier that summer, and how it had left its place in the attic when she'd returned. she'd never mentioned it to him, before or after her departure, and he hasn't breathed a word about it, either. whether he kept it, or threw it away, she still didn't know.

she had a pretty good hunch, though.

her expression, already soft, smothers out the sharp angle of the smile. ]

Do you like it?

[ he asks, abruptly. there's a caution and vulnerability to the question that betrays how young he really is -- only just coming into adolescence -- and for once, he actually sounds his age. ]

[ abrupt is right; the question takes her by surprise, and it shows in her expression, looking at him. a quick "of course" wouldn't be sincere, even if it was the truth, so ruka hesitated, turning her gaze from karkat's face to the pendent once more. the craftsmanship was stunning, that was easy enough to determine. she wasn't any good at three-dimensional art like that, working with a something real and mundane to create something new and fantastic—those sorts of skills belonged to other people, not her. ]

Mm. Yeah. I do. She did a really good job. So... that means you must have, too.

Edited 2013-08-25 07:30 (UTC)

[ he relaxes, when she gives her answer, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding with a sigh. he still doesn't meet her eye, but now, it's less out of nerves, and more out of embarrassment at her compliment. ]

Yeah. Danger's pretty great with her hands. [ he comments, choosing to sidestep it rather than argue about how much credit he's due for the craftsmanship of the pendant.

he only hesitates a second before extends his reach toward her again, necklace swinging in the air between them. ]

Here.

[ his heart beats somewhere in his throat, while he waits for her to take it. ]

[ she should have been paying more attention.

the gloves, the way he holds the chain, that it came from his sylladex instead of a pocket—there's so many little hints, little tells in his actions and expressions, but tonight, she's not looking for them.

and so, when she reaches over, there's no hesitation, no taken preparation for the moment when her fingers wrap around that metal pendant, too hard for delicacy, too detailed for carelessness.

taking hold of a high-voltage electrical wire would have been less jolting. her whole hand goes into spasms, her fingers clenching and releasing, and after only a second of contact it falls soft to the bedspread, barely even making a thump for contact. her arm is pulled back to her chest, pressed flat to her collar, but something like that can't ground her out.

there's no pain to it—like the way cold water feels on a sweltering day, or crashing into a pool from a sudden drop. there's goodness to it, she can tell that much, but it's all so jumbled up in the short exposure, in the sudden severing, in her own surprise—

her gaze darts up to karkat's face, the shock and the confusion plain in the pull of her lips and the scrunch at her brow.

what the hell was that? ]

[ karkat flinches at her reaction, though he gets none of the same, sudden emotional feedback as she does -- he'd been very careful not to allow his own or others' negativity poison the gift. god fucking knows she's miserable enough without a constant influx of his.

he tenses, though, drawing himself up in defense, as though bracing for a blow of some kind. he isn't sure how to interpret her reaction, but it doesn't seem to be good. ]

What's wrong? [ he questions, carefully. ]

[ her face can't seem to settle on one expression, and her mouth forms the starts of four different sentences before she manages to say the first word. ]

The hell?

[ he takes a step back, considering retreat. ]

What? [ tense. ]

[ fruitlessly, she gestures at the pendent. ]

Please tell me that's not recycled metal.

Do you honestly think I'm stupid enough to give you a piece of jewelry that's been through god knows how many hands prior? [ he says it very pointedly, though his posture remains wary. ]

There's something there. [ the tight press of the one arm hasn't quite relaxed, and she still looks on-edge. ]

I know. [ he hedges. ] It's only from one person.

[ doesn't he like to get on her case for being cagey? ]

[ she glances down at the pendent for a moment, then back up; wariness and uncertainty emanate from her like heat from a fire. ]

You're sure?

I made sure.

[ she didn't get a clear understanding of the content, not on so quick a contact, but that sort of intensity isn't completely unfamiliar.

when the waters are so often poisoned, it's difficult to trust the one that runs clean.

the tightness in her shoulders lessens at his words, but she doesn't seem very put at ease. ]

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