Chapter Text
Life, as this young woman knew it, could be a bitch.
"As delicious as your desperate offer is, Blueberry, I'm a law student. I can barely afford the cherry on this sundae, and it's the only tasty thing I've had for months, there's no way I could spew out rent like that."
Vriska Serket. Twenty four, between jobs and short a roommate to pay rent. In a word: fucked.
"Nepeta doesn't charge you?" She asked, surprised and a little angry. And, maybe, a little jealous.
"Kitty gives me a discount," Terezi said, pursing her lips with a wrinkle of her nose. The stray bit of chocolate at the corner of her mouth was licked away - a flicker of her long tongue - and for a moment she seemed to look at the remains of her dessert mournfully. "Every Saturday, the stars align, and I keep trying to roll a legislacerator but they keep telling me it doesn't exist. One day, Blueberry. One day I'll show them."
"What the fuck is a legislacerator?"
The blind woman reached across the table, brow furrowed deeply, and after an initial miss she placed a hand upon Vriska's shoulder and squeezed. "If I ever told you," she intoned, "I'd have to kill you."
Vriska brushed the hand away. "Awesome. It'd save me the trouble of dealing with this shit." She sighed, and her shoulders dropped. "I have none of the luck, 'rezi, none of it."
That long tongue was dragging along her cheek the moment after she said it, despite leaning back as far as the squishy cushion of the booth would allow, and Terezi settled back into her seat with crossed legs and a predator's grin.
"Your tears are salty and unpleasant, Blueberry."
"I wasn't crying, you unbelievable creep."
This was measured with the sort of thoughtfulness that seemed far too deliberate; delicate fingers on a pointed chin, a hum that stretched on for a full five seconds. Overdramatics.
"I guess that's just you, then."
"Fuck off."
--
Oh what tangled webs we weave...
Things have a funny way of being connected, and stories usually have a funny way of having the most interesting connections. But, it should be pointed out, it wouldn't be a Story if it were any other way; it would be life.
As it would turn out, Vriska's soon-to-be-ex-roommate was one Jake English. Jake's grandmother was growing ill, though there were some unfortunate implications mentioned regarding Betty Crocker, and the responsible young lad was moving back to take care of her as soon as he could. Unfortunately for Vriska, he couldn't wait forever.
Now, the connection is in one Dirk Strider. Tenuous, at times, for it seems that Jake is constantly surrounded by the sort of drama most typically found in a soap opera, but a connection nonetheless. From there, the connection would spread, for Dirk was related to one Rose Lalonde.
And Rose...
...Rose's connection was with one Kanaya Maryam, and this connection would be the one that mattered the most in these degrees of separation.
--
Life, as this young woman knew it, could be better.
But, well, it could be worse as well.
"Really, you don't need to fret over this. We have plenty of room to spare. I completely expected this to be difficult, and I will not simply decide that enough is enough. Take your time."
Kanaya Maryam. Twenty six, in debt for a currently useless fashion degree, and mooching off of her friends. In a word? Uncomfortable.
"Really," she insisted in return, putting special emphasis on the word. Well, more special than usual, anyway. "If I could just help out somehow, I'd at least feel like less of a leech."
Rose stared her down, and she wilted, guilty despite herself. Yes, a friend was still a friend regardless of embarrassingly rejected advances in recent history, but after asking so much it was a little confusing to have remained on such good terms. Stares like that didn't help things. Stares like that were sending mixed signals she was reasonably certain weren't intended.
"Kanaya," she said, softening somewhat. "Leeches are - in my humble opinion - unwelcome, wriggling things that tend to trigger one's primal urge to shriek in terror and run the other way. You are a wonderful young woman that I love as much as I can," a wince, "and I am wasting no effort in allowing you to take a room in my house that would otherwise remain unused and useless."
"But-"
"No. Be quiet. You would rather be independant, I understand, and it's not exactly a secret that you would also rather avoid any lingering awkwardness between us. Yes, that was in fact painfully obvious. But you know that some things require patience, and you should be aware that I also possess this knowledge as well as an almost infinite supply of the required patience. You've heard the stories of my mother, Kanaya, you know that I have remained stoic in the face of things that would drive lesser individuals mad. This is nothing dramatic, problematic, or otherwise some form of grievance that presumably rhymes with either."
Rose was silent, then, and it took Kanaya a moment to realize that she was finished talking. Slowly, she smiled, and while it was a tentative and uncertain thing ...it was a start.
"Traumatic," a new voice broke in. Dirk tilted his somewhat ridiculous shades downward, giving them both a pointed Strider Stare. "You were looking for an appropriate rhyme," he explained. "Traumatic fits the bill."
Rose was unamused.
"I have more, if you don't like it. Climactic is a bit off, but fitting, and erratic is always a good choice."
"You are not as funny as you would like to believe."
"And, if you wanted something more meta, you could have gone with thematic, but that's always risky."
"Dirk!"