A/N: More Vriska and Kanaya. Guess who decided to start a story that will be a collection of drabblethings maybe. Somebody take my temperature, please, because I'm just rambling at this point... As most of my "genius" "ideas" are, this little thing was inspired by sleeplessness at three in the morning and my inevitable love of VrisKan and also things that have happened canonly and OMG NO WAY REALLY in my real actual human being life and GOD I'M SO RAMBLY I WILL SHUT UP NOW.

Written from an interesting point of view, that is, I'M DOING A CHARACTER STUDY OF VRISKAN FOR THE FIRST PART (CHAPTER) OF THE STORY. DRINKS ALL AROUND!

I need to to go the hell to bed.


Soteriophobia and Snark

part one: my observations


Vriska and Kanaya.

They work.

Somehow.

I like to imagine them talking every moment they get; Vriska secretly thrilled that someone demonstrates appreciation for her, Kanaya secretly thrilled that her crush cares so much about her opinions.

But that much is probably obvious and quite canon, now I think about it. A little more up-close would be Vriska's shudder when Kanaya's nails gently scrape the underside of her wrist, or Kanaya's worried, compulsive preparation for Vriska's visit to her hive.

Kanaya must, by law, be the expectable, predictable one and Vriska must always represent the spontaneous and impossible.

Maybe I'm overanalyzing now, but Vriska is most certainly made up of sarcastic Sorrys and irate WH8Ts and cold stares, reducible only by Kanaya into someone who needs someone else. Dependence, its ugly neediness and hateful begging, is what Vriska Serket fears most, so she hates Kanaya Maryam with every insincere bone in her body.

The sincere parts of her, the parts that are warm and dusty and made of fragile glass, are flushed with a deep crush on her friend, flushed so deeply at times that it is hard to maintain her irritation properly.

To continue over-analyzation, Kanaya is comprised of snark and sugar, a strange blend of a fiercely loyal moirail and exhausted caretaker. She's got a soft spot for the emotional ones, as her steady, albeit tiring, friendship with Karkat shows. That might be why crazy, mixed-up moody Vriska is the one she fell hard for.

(Or it might have been the adventurousness or the attitude or perhaps the paradox that was Vriska's hair- the messier, the prettier.)

And what does happen when you mix sugar and ice, pulsing emotions and soteriophobia?

You get Vriska and Kanaya together.

They are, as I like to call it with a certain writer's grandeur, hopelessly self-destructive. A phrase used in poems and stories and clichés as a signal flare for a doomed relationship.

They will tear each other apart. They will be the train wreck to end all train wrecks. Hearts and bones and blood and words will be spilled all over the floor and Kanaya, distraught and horrified, won't be stable enough to clean it up.

And yet they're jade and blue equilibrium and they could share a kiss or two, maybe, if the sunset's right and Vriska's in a good mood and Kanaya's brave that day. Maybe they have a future past broken china and porcelain skin; maybe there's a fortune chance on the Thief's luckiest dice that they could be more than moirails.

Perhaps someday...