From the outside, the sullen appearance of the darkened ectobiology lab would have given any onlooker the impression of complete desertion. Ordinarily, commotion and animosity would have been unbridled among the troll children that did inhabit it. Of course, some of it did persist, but the kids would mostly keep to themselves these days.
The only light in the room was coming from the scattered computer monitors. As to a flame, Kanaya was glued to the glowing screen like a moth, her diligent gaze never parting from it.
Karkat's incessant nagging rings like a constant buzz in the background. We have to stick together, he whines. Go find her. Kanaya ignores him, hyper-focussed on the trolling session ensuing on the screen before her. She focuses on the sound of her harsh tapping, and it's enough to drain out Karkat's shrieks. He isn't a hard one to ignore. Especially with distractions in the name of Rose Lalonde to keep her attention occupied.
The conversation goes as all her conversations with Rose go; Kanaya would make an inquiry to which Rose would respond in a callous, nonchalant manner. Then, without a real end to the conversation, she would abruptly sign off. No indication of leaving, no goodbye. The sinking disappointment renders Kanaya motionless and confused. Where had she felt that before? She is all too aware, and remembering only serves to deflate her mood. It's only by chance that as soon as Rose leaves, Karkat's frustration begins to reach its peak, amplifying Kanaya's own sense of irritation.
She does not know what finally makes her relent. She tells herself that it's only right to obey the commands of her leader. Really she knows that it's the nagging curiosity as to what she meant by "catch up," as well as the lingering hope that she hates herself for holding onto. In any case she goes, head down and shoulders slumped, unusual posture for normally poised young troll. It's not like she would be hard to find. All Kanaya needs to do is follow the spiders.
She finds her sitting in a corner of a secluded room with the spiders crawling all over her, back turned. Kanaya stands there, trying to find the words to say. Vriska turns around and the spiders scatter, scuttling past Kanaya's feet. She doesn't notice. All she can see are Vriska's eyes looking right through her. Amber shot with blue. The pulsing cobalt leaves her frozen.
A smile forms in the pit of Kanaya's stomach. She realizes what has happened. Her inward smile makes her sick, causing the indent of her frown to deepen. As unsatisfied as she was in her quadrant, she always treasured that untouchable bond shared only by moirails. Perhaps Vriska wasn't always willing to indulge in emotional affairs, but there was at least knew her boundaries. There was always an unwritten understanding between them. Vriska knew never to do this. Not to her. The betrayal cuts Kanaya deeper than anything.
"Why did you bring me here?"
"Why are you ignoring me?"
Her anger does not subside completely, but it's diminished by a grassy flush invading her cheeks. For once she's at a loss for words. All she can are those eyes, invading her senses and warping her mind. The spiders are all gone and there is only Kanaya left for comfort. Separation from the mother is positively the most traumatic experience a child can go through. She remembers Rose telling her this. Vriska buries her face into her knees and Kanaya realizes what she's done. She's never seen Vriska cry before.
Cut-off. Separated. No indication of leaving. No goodbye.
She sits beside her and allows her to weep. She places a loving hand against the crying girl's shoulder; a touch so unfamiliar yet so desired. Connection.
Vriska flinches under the small weight. Kanaya waits before she decides shift herself behind her to rest her head against Vriska's neck. The scent of her hair makes everything around them disappear. There is no sadness, no tragedy, no anger, no Rose. There is only the two of them sitting there, floating through space, sharing a wordless exchange.
She waits until she is ready before wrapping her arms around her. Into her neck she whispers over and over.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
She doesn't know how many times she has to say it before the words sink in. She doesn't know if it does anything to silence the girl's soft sobs. She's not even completely sure if the sound actually parts from her lips, but the feel of Vriska's hand against hers lets her know that it doesn't matter.
Mind to mind, heart to heart. She knows.