something something reflections something

[darkov]

WHO: Marty and Ruka
WHERE: Outside MF#10
WHEN: Weekendy
WHAT: Two sads intersect
WARNINGS: ?


The self-imposed exile to the interior of the house is starting to lift a bit: Encouragement from those who look after him has him at least conceding to some fresh air, if not now-and-then chaperoned excursions. But all that initiative comes from them, not Martin, who is still very convinced any independent actions he takes are just steps that'll lead everyone to disaster. It's been true so far, after all.

Martin pushes the goofy, wide-frame sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose again; they keep slipping, being a size or two big for him. He sits cross-legged on the lawn with a book in his lap -- a very rudimentary book that's more pictures than words, but it's tough enough for him. Most of the things depicted or spelled out are alien to him, after all -- this is as much a lesson in the world as it is trying to figure out reading altogether.

He's...fairly sure this is pointless, though. He has to try to be smart, be less of a stupid burden, but he's convinced that it's a foregone conclusion. He's failed at most any other aspect already, why should this be any different?

Still. It's...something to do. If he can't do anything else but get in the way, then this is...something.

Comments

[dragony]

There's a strangeness to the four imPort cities; Ruka's lived in all of them, at different times over the years, but it never really settles how different one is from another until she's making a daytrip like this. Compared to De Chima, Maurtia Falls has a grayer, gloomier mood; even when it isn't actually raining, there's a coolness to the atmosphere and the people that comforts her. It's where she and Karkat had moved, once they were sick of Heropa's brightness; she's pretty sure it's where Kanaya would have put their belongings into storage, once it had seemed clear that Ruka wasn't coming back last time. It was just a matter of finding the right storage company, and convincing them to give her access. (Or breaking in herself. One of the two.)

She hadn't lived in the assigned housing district, but she visits it now for no real reason — it's not on the way, and she doesn't think she knows anyone around here. It's the one block she hasn't resided, of all the imPort-only neighborhoods, and, well, sometimes a girl gets curious. It's... alright.

It gets less alright the further into the neighborhood she gets. It's strange, she thinks; usually her empathy isn't so fine-tuned to catch the trail of someone's negativity from this far out, but as she passes each house, the feeling gets stronger. Like the odor of burning leaves, still caked with dry mud. Strange...

She continues along the path until the strange air of feeling seems to be at its thickest — like a heavy storm cloud, brimming with kept thunder, bleak and charged at the same time. There's more to it than that, but the remnants are nebulous at this distance. She stops in her tracks, gloved hands settling in her jacket pockets, and she glances towards the dire source.

... It's just a boy. A child, easily, sitting in the thick grass with a book across his lap. Not what she was expecting, with an air like that, but the look of things can often be deceiving. There's a faint sense of struggle, and part of her wants to help, but at the same time — well, it probably would be weird, wouldn't it, some random woman talking to some kid at his own house? Even if she means no harm, she doesn't always look the type. At the same time...

Ugh.

Ruka halts her stride, pivoting on one heel to face the kid more directly; she doesn't step off of the sidewalk.

"Hey," she calls, pushing her hands deeper into her pockets, forcing her shoulders to relax and seem as casually non-threatening as possible. "I don't mean to intrude, but, is everything alright?"

Which is intrusive by merit of them being strangers, but the boy seems miserable, and Ruka was a kid in a world like this, once. Misery is much more intrusive.