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Three years on a space rock is a long time, especially when you and your company are painfully aware of that passage of time.
By the end of year one, the novelty of meeting and cohabiting with another species has mostly worn off. Sure there are still moments where the trolls do something so unexpectedly bizarre that it prompts another chapter in your growing, introductory study of xenopsychology and troll culture, but Dave is hardly the type of person to be enthralled by the impressive collection of your notes and theories.
It seems his investment in your studies is proportionally related to his ability to scribble a phallic shape onto the margins of your newest pages.
Needless to say, you no longer share the fruits of your labor with him.
Still, you are pleased to note that adjusting to the company of your new friends (friends?) does not equate to boredom. Karkat is still as amusing and reliable in his explosiveness, Terezi remains dangerously curious and proactive in the entertaining art of sniffing around (both literally and figuratively), and Kanaya is as blunt and charmingly straightforward as you hoped she would be in person. If anything, you discover that she is more faceted than you first believed and comfortable to be around, in a way you don't quite understand given how you never had many friends or the opportunity to plumb the internal workings of another. Your notes on Kanaya are the most dense and heavily populated of all your entries, challenged in word count by only one other.
Vriska holds that honor, with a count of at least 128 more words. It is true busy work to write down all the intricacies and instances of her misdirected rage, and over time you have found her tenacity to be both annoying and admirable. You don't think you have ever been so personally insistent in your ways, even in the face of the overwhelming probability that you were wrong.
....well, with the exception of your tangled affairs with the horrorterrors and your brief (but arduous) trip to the Green Sun. Those, you think, were clearly two unique exceptions. Only a baboon would have chosen to neglect exploring all available options.
Anyway.
You have always believed that a healthy amount of investigation and experimentation was necessary for survival, particularly in trying times. Case in point: your latest challenge of peeling apart the layers of Kanaya Maryam, the newest and most consuming target of your scientific gaze. What better way to pass the remaining two years than to devote oneself to studies, to the art of data collection and casting intrepid but captivating theories regarding the psyche of another? It was only luck and good fortune that you have never found Kanaya hard to look at.
Quite the contrary, actually.
Which brings us to the present. You have managed to rope Kanaya into giving you her undivided attention, at least twice a week, to coach you in the complexities of the written and spoken Alternian language. For whatever reason, the meteor was heavily stocked with books. Literature of every kind: manuals, ancient scripts, hokey legends, personal accounts and biographies, and countless others you have yet to parse through. Of course, the majority if not all, were written in a language you couldn't decipher, at least not without the assistance of a native.
Fortunately your earliest notes on Kanaya revealed her great affliction for always wanting to help others, or as Vriska so often put it, 'fussing.' Kanaya's acceptance to your request for guidance seemed to bring her equal amounts of satisfaction and purpose. You had asked her long ago while in Vriska's presence, which triggered a scowl and an acidic barb about how unlikely it was that "puny pink monkey brains" had the capacity to learn such things. You weren't really aiming to collect notes on Vriska that day (in fact, she occupied a whole other day of the week) but who were you to pass up a convenient opportunity? She hissed when you asked, saccharine sweet, for her to join you two as surely, two advanced troll minds were better than one in teaching a slow-learning human. She didn't rise to the bait, simply slamming the door behind her as she stomped off.
From your periphery, you see a glowing finger tap at a rather squiggly looking glyph or combination of letters on the page, interrupting your long-winding train of thought.
"Do you remember this symbol? It is actually quite unusual to see it at the beginning of a sentence," you notice how she asks politely, making a point to keep the inquiry from sounding too much like a challenge. You smile. You certainly do recognize the shape, a symbol that represents a verb in most sentence structures but changes meaning when capitalized as such and placed at the beginning of a sentence. Personally, you think it bears great likeness to a badly drawn teepee with a small little man inside.
"Hmm...is it an adverb of some sort?" You know its not, and you also know this is not the first time she has 'corrected' you on this particular word. She smiles and shakes her head, ever so patient, before she tells you what you already know. Frankly, you think it's impressive just how deep her well of patience runs, and you think it quite rare, quite likable even.
Oh my. It wouldn't do to allow personal feelings to influence the order of science, would it?
The two of you smile privately at each other, and a part of you has to wonder if maybe she knows what you are up to.
"Hey, Fussyfangs! Get your rainbow drinking sniffler our of those dusty things and feast your eyes onto something of real importance!" In a whirlwind of tangled hair, Vriska squeezes herself on the bench between you, her bony shoulder poking you before she turns to face Kanaya fully.
From over her shoulder, you see the badly abused, plastic cover of 'Con-Air.'
"Have we not already watched this movie enough times to entertain the possibility that maybe the replay value has..." She trails off slightly, raising an eyebrow all the while, "...diminished somehow?"
Vriska barks at that, grating yet mirthful. "As if one could ever get tired of watching Nic Cage and his smooth mastery of just about everything ever. You know, this kind of content demands several screenings to understand the real meaning, to unravel all the juicy, hidden metaphors and stuff. Hundreds of viewings in fact. Thousands even!" At this point you know that even Vriska is aware of how much she's stretching the truth, but it's clear to both yourself and Kanaya that the devotion, at least, is as authentic as it gets. Kanaya's mouth twitches, and that glimmer of fondness is missed only by Vriska. Sometimes her lack of awareness to the most basic displays of pity and red affection baffle you.
"Yes, well. You've certainly made a formidable point, and a persuasive argument to further your case," Vriska waits expectantly through the dry, flat delivery, "but we may have to reschedule our screening for another time. As you can see, I just began today's session in assisting Rose with developing a deeper understanding of Alternian language and text. While the road ahead is rather long and complicated, with many challenges along the way, she has actually come along quite far in understa-"
"-oh godddd, blah blah blah, okay yeah I get it, Lalonde tricked you into wasting hours over a dumb book that wouldn't even make a decent stand for a shitty husktop, and you agreed in classic McFussy fashion because you're so meddlesome and goddamn helpful!" She huffs. Kanaya blinks, her glow vibrating between three different but similar shades of bright white. "In a roundabout and slightly pedantic way, yes. Though honestly, it's not plural as in 'hours' but rather singular as in 'hour' given our sessions run exactly that, one hour and on two days a week."
You think you could hear a pin drop.
Vriska's back, which is still facing you, is entirely still for what feels like a whole minute. "God, you are really taking the bait Maryam, hook line and sinker!" She throws her arms up in the air, almost smacking you in the process, before she launches herself off the bench and leaves in the same whirlwind manner she arrived.
You are still watching her turn the corner, black hair whipping behind her skinny, lanky frame and you realize belatedly that you missed an opportunity to see the reaction play out on Kanaya's face.
"...she seems rather...testy as of late," Her eyes have returned to the page but her furrowed brow tells you that her mind is still caught in the tangled web of a cranky, hot-headed spider. "Maybe even unusually so..."
The two of you refocus your attention back to the book, and you answer the next few questions with enough ease to reassure Kanaya that her efforts are not in vain. While you had initially arranged these sessions to be regular opportunities for you to analyze and learn more about her, you would be lying if you said that you didn't enjoy listening to a new language and hearing her speak with such eloquence in unfamiliar dialects and tones. Alternian could sound so different when spoken, and even before you came to understand some of the words Karkat and Kanaya said in their infrequent non-English discussions, you were convinced that she carried her words with much more beauty than anyone else.
An hour comes and goes faster than you know, and by the end of it she seems almost reluctant to be done. After you shake your head to whether or not you have any new questions on today's material, she finally takes her leave, standing with a mug you know is filled with some kind of beverage that's lukewarm by now. You've noticed how she always brings a hot drink of her choice, only able to drink from it once or twice before the lesson's complete.
You look up at Kanaya as she stands from her seat on the shared bench, and you're dimly aware that perhaps all of your constant gazing, smiling, and slow-blinking behavior might be compressing and evolving into a nugget of persuasive power. She looks back at you, with an indeterminable degree of nervousness, and you see the pearly white outline of an incisor poking through her dark lips.
"Well, we have certainly covered much ground today. I'll see you..." She squints slightly, a lock of hair falling over her brow, "in two days time for the next session, correct?" You smile, lips closed, and brush away your own lock of hair. As you had hoped, she follows the path of your hand, only snapping her eyes back to yours when you start to trail your fingers absently down the side of your neck.
"Correct. Though I imagine we may see each other much sooner than that, given the nature of our close quarters. Or at least, one can only hope."
It's bold. But satisfyingly successful, and you watch as her eyebrow shoots up only to be followed by a tinge of color that dusts the ridge of her (well-defined) cheekbones. "Ah," you wonder if your smile could stretch any wider, "...indeed."
You wave then, a chaste and tacky kiss of your fingers to the palm of your hand. It's childish enough to make Dave roll his eyes with such force that they'd be stuck forever in that position, hidden only by the massive, black bug-eyed lenses of his shades. She nods and finally absconds, leaving you to the dense array of your notes in physical form before you, and in the mental inventories filed away in your perpetually busy and obsessive brain. It would take some time to categorize these new observations, especially with all the unexpected footnotes you've been accumulating with poor restraint. They are a touch more personal than you are used to, and it is strange how the mind chooses and selects what emotional string to play from your heavily guarded, one-woman chamber hall. As you rise to store the book back onto the shelf and clean up, you hear someone enter the room.
"Did you leave something behind?" You finish slotting the heavy book into its spot on the shelf, and truthfully you are surprised by Kanaya's return. You didn't notice anything she may have left behind, and you curiosity is piqued at the possibility that she simply wanted a reason to see you again. The feeling is positively quaint. You shuffle down the stepladder and turn to address her, only to be greeted by a heated glare and a scowl.
"Listen, Lalonde" and she says this with such intensity you feel your brow immediately arching to match it, "Kanaya's probably got her pity-stick lodged so far up her ass she can't see straight but nothing gets by me. Your boring and meaningless speeches don't distract me, especially since I haven't forgotten about your suspicious-as-shit meddling of the grimdark variety." She enunciates every word and her pupil almost looks like its vibrating, ensconced in cerulean blue. "I must admit, you have me wondering what it is you are referring to. Don't tell me you're genuinely upset about Kanaya's rescheduling with you this evening? I assure you, she seemed quite serious about following up another time," Vriska growls, she outright growls, and begins to advance towards you. But not before she swings the door shut and flips the lock, leaving you two alone with each other.
Fascinating. How likely was it that you might actually incur harm tonight from the hands of Vriska Serket? A quick calculation and reflection of your notes reveal that while it passes an initial threshold of believability that might make any other person nervous, it still shoots shy of being realistic and actualized.
Still, your more basic survival instincts have you take a step back anyways.
Did ex-moirals normally act this feisty regarding their partners? They were exes, weren't they? Alas, Vriska did have a tendency to skew your numbers and "conclusive" studies by quite a bit. Her temperament was reliable only in its unique tendency to throw the curve off.
"As if you would actually be interested in these boring ass language studies. You probably already know this shit anyway, with all the time you spent here nosing through this crap. What are you really slanting for, Lalonde?" She's still moving towards you, and what began as a healthy six or seven yards between you quickly begins to diminish. You take another half-step back, imperceptible really, but the shelf reminds you of its presence when you feel the spine of a book against your elbow. Too bad your powers as a Seer didn't work like flipping on a switch or turning on the telly. It would have been nice if you could have seen this confrontation coming, you would have certainly appreciated the time to review what you knew of Vriska and her volatile mannerisms. As it is, it's hard for you to determine just how out-of-character this might be, or if it falls in line with her easily provoked, compulsive behavior.
She stops about a foot away from you.
"Don't tell me you're waxing red for Fussyfangs? Ha! Even after Karkat preached on and on against sloppy interspecies makeouts, you couldn't wait to jump right to it, could you?" She laughs again, her teeth catching light under the unflattering fluorescent lights above. Against all better judgement, you play along. "I'm sure there's a lot to be learned about our different cultures and physiology. What better way than than to engage in a more personal and directly involved manner?" She stops laughing right away, and goodness, you've really seemed to hit the accelerator onto the express lane of ill-advised decisions and badly timed gambles because your face has also settled into a smile, and you don't need a mirror to tell you that it's of the overly self-satisfied kind.
Time to make your swift escape.
"Well, Vriska. If that was all you wanted to ask, it was nice chatting with you, really. We should do this again sometime." And out you go, stage left with a straight beeline for the door. Or that would have been what happened if it wasn't for the iron grip on your arm, and the following yank that traps you right back into the close perimeters of the same pissed off spider troll you were hoping to escape. "I see you're even more big-headed than usual!" She pushes you carelessly against the wall, and you remind yourself again of the calculations from earlier as her sharp claws encircle your wrist, "As if you humans could even begin to understand how troll relationships work. You chumps couldn't even comprehend enough of the most basic rules to even think of getting involved. Stay out of our field and stick with the single quadrant games you're already used to." She hovers over you, only taller by two or three inches, but with the shadow she casts upon you it feels like more.
"You know, what with our current situation, I cant help but wonder if these unpleasant gestures and verbal assaults are...daresay, black advances? I'm flattered, honestly, but I might require some time for my untrained human faculties to digest the situation before making any hasty decisions." She snarls again and her grip on your wrist tightens before she places her other hand against the wall beside your ear, "Black? Ha! Don't make me laugh. You wouldn't know black feelings if they wriggled in front of your hornless face and did the imperial backslide on your sad, pathetic excuse of a nose." You are staring right into her eyes, unblinking for the most part, and you find that she smells curiously heavy, hard to describe in its specificity but nevertheless it's terribly distracting. "And stop dodging the point, Lalonde. Don't think I cant notice the way you've been all up in Fussyfangs' business."
You begin to suspect that perhaps you were wrong all along. It wasn't an ex-moiralship that presently existed between them. Or at least, not on both parts. Fortunately, this new information leaves you with a fairly straightforward path for how to dissolve the current situation.
"In my world, it's generally common knowledge that repressed emotions could lead to destructive behavior and sometimes even develop into lasting psychological damage. Might I suggest you consult a moiral or some similarly red companion for your newly discovered conciliatory dilemmas? Please, do keep me posted. I happen to find internal developments within oneself to be particularly titillating." And with that, you finally find it in you to squeeze under Vriska's arm and slip safely out. As you walk quickly away and towards the door, you catch her furious muttering beneath her breath ("She's mine") and you pause mid-step, moments away from your exit, to address her.
"It seems a hair presumptuous to be claiming ownership over people you never even appreciated. Saying nothing of how outdated and ridiculous the concept of owning a person is. Why don't we let her decide on that matter, hm?" And with one final cheeky smile over your shoulder, you unlock the door and make your quick departure.
As you take the stairs up two at a time, your mind is racing still from the intensity of the encounter. It seemed that there was much more to Vriska and Kanaya and their dynamic than you had first thought, particularly on the side of Vriska's unaddressed and undisclosed emotional baggage. In spite of the prickly heat you just escaped, you cant help but feel the growing embers of an itch to learn more.
Let it never be said for Rose Lalonde that in these passing years on this meteor, there was ever a lack of things to do.