( don't read too much into it, all right? he's been experimenting and he knows he likes tea β since he has to eat and drink and all that nonsense now β and he's come to realize that there really are very few things nicer ( to him ) than being able to sit down with a nice cup when he's feeling tense. or when he has something to read.
yeah, he's taken to reading a lot during his time here, too. that really isn't outside of his wheelhouse, but it furthers the notion that he's pretty much become a domesticated housecat.
so what if he wants to share something he enjoys with a human that isn't as bad as the rest of them? so what!?
he just happens to be in the kitchen making a cup of his own tea when she decides she should make some for herself, and to say that he lets a surprised noise slip would be putting it mildly β he was not expecting to run into her so quickly after dropping his gift off where she'd find it β but he recovers quickly enough that she might miss it entirely.
knowing her, she won't. ) βOh. ( he says, as conversationally as possible, unconsciously reaching to tag down another mug and set it down where she can reach it. just being, uh. friendly, or something. ) Did you find your gift? ( just. nonchalant as anything. nbd. )
[Likewise, Meryl was also not expecting to run into Knives so quickly. She jumps with enough force that she very nearly drops the parcel cupped delicately in her hands. She snatches it back up toward her chest, then turns to look at Knives with something close to a glare. He's likely one of the only people that only gets Meryl at 75% of her worst. Granted, that's because she's still a little terrified of him.
But only a little.]
Oh, uh. Yeah, I did! [She holds it out, still cradled in her palms like some fragile thing. Clearly she liked it, even if she's now humiliated at just how much she'd treasured it. She can already hear him laughing at her.
... At least he has the decency to reach the higher shelves for her.]
Were you already warming some water up?
I LITERALLY SAID DON'T HAVE A STROKE IT'S R I G H T T H E R E
( 75% of her worst is actually. a lot like a feral kitten doing all the hissing and spitting it does when it feels threatened without actually following through; he doesn't mean it in a condescending way, not in the slightest β even if it might end up coming off that way at times β but it really is endearing more than anything else.
( but she has every right to still be afraid of him, even if it's just a little. )
he isn't going to laugh, mostly because he's gotten a bit more used to how easily she startles and how β¦ animatedly she reacts to certain things ( because vash does it too, and he can only imagine they happen to feed off of each other more often than they don't ), and what had he said about the whole of it ( her ) being endearing?
you're welcome for the mug, tiny one. ) Good. ( he says at first, his tone a little flat, if only because he has zero ( 0!! ) idea of how to go about something like this. ) Please don't feel obligated to keep it if it isn't any good β¦ there's, ah. A bit more of a learning curve to tea-making than I was prepared for. ( read: his first attempt was really just throwing a bunch of things that smelled nice in together and the result had been disastrous.
he sniffs, looks up from where a kettle of water is currently warming and nods. ) It should be ready soon.
[After depositing the tea bag into the mug, Meryl settles for folding her fingers around it. Rocking on her heels just a little, she casually steals a glance at the man from the corner of her eye. It's not that she's scared of meeting his eyes, she just still isn't used to his general presence. Mentally, she's mostly managed to clear the hurdles that have come with sharing a living space with Millions Knives. Conceptually, it's a done deal. The problem is reconciling that with his very broad, very large physical presence.
He makes her feel small in a multitude of ways. It's all unintentional, but she can't help but feel, if not nervous, then at a loss around him. Trying to make small talk felt inappropriate. She can't quite fathom asking him about the weather.
For a mercy, though, Knives is the one that picks a topic to settle on. Meryl resists the urge to sigh in relief, forcing herself to listen intently to every word.]
Well, we'll see about the taste but... [Finally she wills herself to turn her head, offering a smile.] It smells good. If it fails at being tea, we can just call it fancy potpourri.
( at least in this new space they all have plenty to call their own so they aren't stumbling over one another every time they turn around, and knives generally β¦ keeps to himself more often than he doesn't. solitude is something he's long since come to find comfort in, generally not feeling the need to seek out companionship so it isn't like she would see him much β
but of course there are going to be times in which they find themselves in the kitchen at the same time. like this one. neither of them knowing what they're supposed to do and both of them feeling just this side of awkward about it. maybe it won't be that way forever, but no one knows in the here-and-now of it.
he's never going to be the sort to default to small-talk in any situation, not only because he's terrible at it but because it's pointless, so the fact that he's the one to be counted on for carrying the conversation forward is β¦ hilarious, if narration is perfectly honest. learn how to talk to people, knife.
her comment makes him chuckle a bit, which probably sounds even more strange than talking about something as mundane as tea in the first place. ) I suppose that is a positive, isn't it? ( he turns just a bit, blinks at her smile and somehow manages to return it with one of his own.
we swear it doesn't just look like he's baring his teeth. ) I would like to hone my skills a bit better, if I"m honest. It's become something of a hobby.
[While it's true that Knives does keep to himself, it doesn't take into account one variable. Unused to his presence as she is, Meryl has found that lately, she wants to be used to him. Now that she's gotten over the worst of her suspicion, she's found that there's so much more she wants to know about him. Seeking him out might have been an option, but she hadn't yet cleared the hurdle of making a demand of his presence.
So for now she settles for the casual brush of elbows in communal areas. It's polite, an amicable relationship between two people who likely never would have thought of it some handful of months ago. And if this is all she'll get, then she'll accept as much graciously.
But still, she's allowed to want a little more. Especially now, when they're talking like friends and he's actually smiling..]
If it's that important to you, then I'm sure it's fine. You don't strike me as the type of guy to leave something half-done. [It's not a slight at him, she promises. She's just gotten a feel for his determination, and knows that he wouldn't have gone into any project, let alone one that would leave him subject to scrutiny, without extensive testing.]
( ... well. that's certainly some progress, isn't it? given that their initial meeting here had gone about as well as one might have predicted β better, actually β he hasn't wanted to infringe on her personal space just for the sake of wanting to get to know her, in turn. after all, she's important to vash, someone he wants to keep close, keep safe.
would it be so hard to believe that, given all these new leaves knives is turning over ( no, that is not a plant joke, just very convenient timing ) β¦ he would want to keep her close and safe as well?
translation: she could demand his presence if she wanted. it may just be a bit difficult to deny such a strong presence anything she wanted. ( but he is not about to tell her that. not in the least. )
the water has finally finished heating, and he moves to pour some into both of their mugs, not speaking up again until he's set the kettle back down and is contemplating his own steeping tea in front of him. ) It gives me something to do. ( he says after a moment of stretched silence. it's about as close to admitting that he feels sort of useless in this place as he's going to get.
he hasn't even insinuated as much to vash. and that's saying something. ) I've also been toying with the idea of learning how to cook. Seeing as so many of you need to eat and all. ( yes, you heard that correctly.
[She isn't annoyed that Knives reaches the water before she can, per se. She just scowls up at him, brief as can be. It doesn't even reach her eyes. Quickly. she's losing the ability to gather her temper around him. Not when he takes everything so well and has been genuinely kind. It's strange that her so-called (and very one-sided) worst enemy had become one of the few people she could trust to respect her boundaries.
So, with all her venom tempered, all she can really do is try to read his movements. Some part of her mind does supply: he's not used to having nothing to do, but she pushes it from her mind. She can't imagine that Knives would be prone to listlessness. Even if he had turned over those new, proverbial leaves, she can't imagine him sitting still.
Surely he would have found something to do.]
I don't think you should have to go out of your way to cook for us. Even if you mean well. [It just feels wrong to have him help out while she's done almost nothing.] There's gotta be something more you can do for yourself. That way you're not feeling beholden to anyone.
( this place has been a sort of β¦ lesson in anger management, one could say, with regard to just how well he's been able to control his own temper since his arrival; a lot of it has to do with the fact that he still feels empty without the powers that had defined him as an independent, and pile the need to do things like eat and sleep and perform other human bodily functions on top of that β
it's been an adjustment, to say the very least of it. but narration is pretty sure that everyone that knows him more than just in passing would say that he's made more than just a little bit of progress.
so don't scowl too much, small one. your face is too pretty for things like that.
who the fuck said that!?
he's never been very good at sitting still, it's true, even when vash has always been the one brimming with restless energy; having always had an outlet for it before, his day-to-day in this place can sometimes feel β¦ mundane, more than anything else, but he supposes he could chalk all of that up to it all being so different. and maybe it's part of the reason he'd been focusing on connecting with others more than he would have otherwise.
he picks up his mug and blows absently at the steam swirling upward, gaze flicking briefly down to meryl directly and then settling somewhere off-center. not looking at her, but keeping her in his periphery. )
I don't see it as going out of my way if I wish to do it. ( he says plainly, the implied duh lingering on the back of his tongue as though it might actually come out of him. it will not. that's more of a vash thing. ) There is also gardening β¦ Cain has given me something to take care of and I would prefer not to disappoint him. ( he gave the plant a plant.
he and vash are gonna make a plot for him to do his own gardening β¦ probably β¦ in the very near future. and then this one is going to learn how to take care of plants that don't produce anything but what you get from photosynthesis. novel concept, innit. )
[With the mug now filled, Meryl gladly lifts it up. She pulls it upward and inhales, drawing in the heated vapor. Just as she had said before, the smell of the tea is divine β perhaps even better now that it's begun to bloom beneath the boiling water. Like him, she blows delicately against the liquid, before taking a sip.
It still burns, but with it comes a taste that makes her eyelids flutter shut. Maybe it's just been awhile, but it would seem she's thoroughly impressed by the offering.]
It's good. [Her tone is almost dreamy, and the words little more than a whisper. She seems to realize how embarrassing she sounds after a moment, and swiftly twists her head away.] I mean. Thank you. You did really well.
[She swirls the mug idly as he speaks. He might not speak the duh, but she can definitely feel it in his words. It gets him a narrow-eyed look, but she says nothing more. Someone's been thoroughly pacified by her offering.]
It sounds like it'll be a good thing for both of you then. And I'm sure Cain will be happy to see his gift to you flourish.
( he watches her out of the corner of his eye as she takes her first sip β not creepily, please don't think it's creepy, he just wants to see if you like it or not, and yes his gaze can be a little intense sometimes but he's working on that β and there may be a few things he still misses when it comes to the nuances of human expression, but there β¦ isn't much of anything about this that could insinuate that the tea wasn't good. or at least passable.
maybe he's better at this so far than he'd originally thought. of course, that doesn't mean he isn't going to keep practicing until everything he puts together is perfect in his own mind, but that's neither here nor there.
he finally takes a drink from his own mug, letting the heat of the tea sink down to his core β you know, the sort of thing you can feel all the way down when it's that hot β and sighs quietly in the back of his throat. dare we say happily. ) I'm glad you enjoy it. It was my pleasure to put it together.
( there's another moment of silence as he takes another long sip, breathing in and out slowly through his nose. he's also glad he doesn't get more than that narrow-eyed look, but he might be even more so at the thought that she really does like what he's done for her. )
The idea of doing things with my hands is β¦ cathartic, I suppose I could say? Something. Constructive, instead of destructive.
( AND THAT'S WHAT WE CALL CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT, FOLKS. )
[Ultimately, Meryl has had some really bad tea in her days. That comes with the territory when you're trekking back and forth across the deserts. Supplies go bad. Some settlements don't have the freshest ingredients. Sometimes the water quality could be better. She learned long ago, thanks to a drunken old man, not to complain about what she was given. People made the best with what they had. The same was true for Knives.
Not that it was bad by any stretch. Meryl takes another sip, holding it in her mouth despite the way it burns her tongue. She lets herself take in every flavor while she can, before finally tilting her head back and swallowing once more.]
I'm glad you have that chance. I'm sure it never came easy to you before.
[She doesn't know everything about the Twins origins, but she picked up on a few things here and there in the midst of their fighting. Sure, most of what she heard was her own heartbeat in her ears, but she still picked up pieces her and there.]
I don't want to intrude but... if you ever need help anywhere. [She gives a delicate shrug. She won't assume she's cultivated that much goodwill, but she wants to offer it all the same.] We're all trying to survive together, right?
( the sad thing is that he may not even know bad tea if it was shoved into his face, just because he'd never tried it before; never needed to, never wanted to, never understood the appeal of it before now. which means it would have been even easier for him to make something awful, so he's even more pleased that it's something palatable.
he's quiet, for a moment, gaze now trained on his mug before him; there has been a lot of time and space between where he and his brother had started and where they are now, and he's certain there's still a very, very long way to go before they've completely mended the rift between them. the rift that he had caused, and realizes for as much, and is trying to make amends for. )
No. ( he finally says, more to himself than her, but still loud enough that she'll be able to pick up on it. ) It could have, had I wanted it to, but I never thought about it. ( pause. ) Because it got in the way of so much I had planned. It wasn't right.
( he sets his mug down for a moment, fingers resting against the edge of the counter; for a handful of very long seconds he doesn't look back down at her, almost as though he's either having an existential crisis or a come-to-jesus talk with himself in his head, we'll never know.
but then she says that and he finally turns to look at her again, eyes wide and brow furrowed. like such a thing had never been offered to him before. ) You β¦ would help me? If I asked?
[It's hard to miss the tension building within their own heads. They're drifting into difficult territory, into something that she know she can't speak for certain on. Regardless of how she feels about what happened between the brothers, she'll never have the capacity to know their perspective. His perspective.
But it was just as she said. They were trying to survive together. Even if she couldn't fully process what had come to pass between not just the brothers, but all of humanity, she could empathize. She could lend him strength, and maybe β if she dared to be so bold β she could grant him faith in at least one human.
With this resolve in mind, no one would blame her if she reached out to him. Allowing her fingers thread in between his would only be the next natural step. Contact was a normal, human thing to offer in time of need, after all. Where words failed, her strength would come in the form of a gentle touch. Even for someone as awkward and fumbling as her, this much was second nature.
β So second nature that she doesn't realize she's actually done it until she feels the cool press of Knives' own skin against her own. There's a moment where she freezes, wondering if this is a mistake, wondering if he'll pull away. But rather than pull back and make a fool of herself, she commits.]
( in her defense, his perspective is probably the most difficult one, if only because his thought processes have been so skewed for so long that he's beginning to wonder if he's ever understood himself on the most basic level; he almost can't remember the last time he'd had a thought that wasn't about bringing down the whole of humanity, of watching them all burn for what they'd done to his sister, the plants in general β except, perhaps, in more recent months.
curiously, he hasn't had a single ill thought of humanity in general since the human next to him had shown up. and tried to effectively beat him up, but. he's learning that the small ones are always the most feisty, even if he could have guessed it from the very start. before they'd both come here.
her second nature is so foreign to him that he's the one that almost pulls back from it; it startles him, to say the very least of it, a bit of a tremor working its way through him from their point of contact, where she's laced their fingers together and he's almost certain he stops breathing for a handful of seconds. long enough for him to register the touch of skin against skin, cool against warm, how soft her fingers are.
he's so unused to touch that doesn't come from his brother that it takes him a moment to pull himself together, and before he realizes it, he's squeezing her fingers in return. subtly, but it's very much there. )
Friends. ( he says quietly, voice barely above a whisper. it feels tentative, what he wants to say next, but she's taken her chance with him more than anything else, and it's his turn to take a leap of faith. ) I believe you're the first I've made here, little one. ( despite vash wishing he would get out and meet people more, he's never going to put himself out there as much as his brother does.
and he isn't being condescending, either. not in the slightest. welcome to your new nickname, but we aren't going to be upset if she gets all huffy about it at first. or stays huffy about it. it's going to stick, so she might as well get used to it. ) I'm here for you as well, should you ever have need of me.
[It isn't hard to miss the way Knives almost pulls away. Whether he realizes it or not, Meryl almost releases him in kind. She won't force him to suffer her company, especially when he's made so many concessions for her already. It doesn't have to be a bridge they cross today. It doesn't have to be a bridge they cross ever.
And yet after a moment of hesitation, his fingers brush against hers, and she practically sighs out her relief. The thrill that runs through is so powerful, so electrifying that her knees feel weak for just a second. It's a miracle she pulls herself enough together to focus. lest she wind up making an even bigger fool of herself than she has just gaping at him.
Friends. The first. She should be touched, take his gentle words to heart. It's a hell of a step for Millions Knives, and a damn weighty compliment for someone like Meryl. Yet even as she turns the words over and over in her head, the sticking point ends up being, well. Sticky.]
Little one?! [Her voice tips up in pitch as her gaping turns to outright glowering. She'd been so nice to him, too!] Oh, real funny - [She's going to take a page from Roberto's book here. Thanks, again, Drunkle.] Hundreds Spoons!
[She scowls up at him with an expression that some might consider fearsome... if not for the fact that she's still holding his hand.]
( that's just it β of course it is β that he isn't suffering anything,only that he's so unused to it that it catches him by surprise. he might have mentally kicked himself, maybe, if he actually had tried to pull away and she'd released him, because so much progress is being made here that he doesn't want to risk mucking it up.
but he maintains. he holds firm. he steels himself for the sort of contact he would never, ever have expected to actually enjoy from a human, but then again it's been said before that she has, essentially, overshot any expectations he might have had to begin with. hasn't it?
he really doesn't mean his words to stick like they do β it isn't as if he knows anything about wolfwood calling her little lady when they'd first met β and because he doesn't have much experience in being around others like this, the way she puffs up β¦ almost makes him laugh. because it's endearing in a way he isn't about to put a voice to, and. well. kind of cute in another that he's going to keep to himself. for a myriad of reasons.
his eyes are practically glittering at the edges when he gazes down at her again, having looked away in a valiant attempt at keeping himself in check ( and it worked, thank you ), and damn everything if the smile spreading across the bottom half of his face isn't almost identical to some his brother has given in the past.
it's in the small nuances that one really can tell they're twins. ) It'sβ ( breathe, knife. you really don't want to ruin this, do you? ) You misunderstand, I mean no offense. ( he promises, even if he pauses at 'hundreds spoons' ( thanks, roberto ) and offers a quizzical look before carrying on, gently squeezing her fingers again. )
I mean it as a term of endearment. ( you are little, you know. and you're a baby in age compared to him and vash. )
[Meryl is doing her best to remain angry, steamingly so. Which makes it all the more infuriating when he starts to smile. She can see that he's trying to hold it back, which would maybe give him credit, if he weren't so endearingly handsome when that resolve finally cracks. It's a good thing she's set her tea down, because she throws her hands up in her absolute frustration, before crossing them tightly over her chest.]
Endearment. [She huffs.] I'll give you a pass because you're still learning, but it isn't very endearing being talked down to.
[But if that weren't the case... why did her heart skip a beat when he said it? Why did her stomach rustle with a sudden bout of butterflies? It's an embarrassing reality that she doesn't want to think about for a multitude of reasons, none the least of which come back to the fact that he's being rude!]
Let's try a list of other things you could call me. Smart One. Pretty One! Determined One! Heck, you could even call me Human One!
[Still huffing and puffing, she finally picks up her tea again. She finds a way to sip it angrily, even if it doesn't linger long. The reminder that he made this for her, that despite his missteps, he's trying to be nice keep her from maintaining a grip on her wrath.]
( knives has never really had a reason to try to mask his amusement before β mostly because his brother is the more animated of the two of them, this one erring more on the side of neutral, unreadable expressions more often than not β but he's finding in his extended stay here that it's becoming more and more difficult to keep certain things to himself. especially when in the company of the one before him now.
he lets her go on, and on, and on as she huffs and puffs ( better be careful that you don't blow the place down ), only speaking up again when he thinks she might be finished, still watching her quietly from out of the corner of his eye. at least β¦ he isn't laughing anymore. ) Pretty One β¦ I think that's a good match, but it doesn't have quite the same ring to it, does it? ( he's teasing, just as much as he thinks she'll let him get away with, but at least he's pretty sure he knows when to dial it back because she's going to blow a fuse otherwise.
a beat, and then: ) Feisty One would also work, I think. ( and excuse him while he hides his grin behind the rim of his mug as he finally drains what remains of its contents. please don't kick him. )
[Worked up as she is, it takes Meryl a few seconds to properly process what it is Knives has said. She takes it, at first, as acknowledgement, before barreling into the second half of his statement - ]
Fine, we can absolutely settle on - [Her jaw promptly snaps shut. I think that's a good match, he'd said. She knows better than to think that Millions Knives, of all people, thinks she's pretty, but let her live in the fantasy for just a few seconds.]
Feisty one is fine. [She grumbles it quickly, before lifting her mug up. She sips her tea loudly, as if to put an end to the conversation. Nope, she's not going to entertain these thoughts any further.]
( he might not be able to say it out loud β not yet β but he does think she's pretty, in a way that he's never really found himself looking at a human before. she's small, but she isn't delicate, she has a strong heart and a strong soul, and he understands immediately why his brother would be so drawn to her. why he would be so hell-bent on making sure nothing happens to her.
he may as well count himself among those that want to protect her, now. as tentative as their friendship is, he's decided that much. whether she knows it or not.
maybe he'll just keep it to himself for the time being. what she doesn't know won't hurt her.
he hums quietly under his breath, in the back of his throat as she hides the bottom half of her face behind her mug. )Pretty feisty one. ( he finishes, and yes, there is emphasis on that first word, but it could just mean β¦ that she's pretty feisty. he'll leave that up to her to decide. )
[Though the way her lips part at that addendum is obfuscated by the mug, the widening of her eyes is not. It lasts only a second, before they narrow just slightly. There's a certain focus in her gaze, one she holds as tries to map out exactly what he'd just said. Had there been emphasis there? Or was it simply in her head. She tries to find the answer on his face, but finds nothing.
Not that it keeps the tips of her ears from warming instinctively all the same though.]
We can - go with that. [She gives no indication one way or another, merely agrees with him in the most mild of ways. She immediately tries to cover it up with another sip but... alas. All of her panicked sipping has left her mug empty.
Which means there's nothing to keep her from saying something absolutely stupid.]
And what are we meant to refer to you as? Handsomely cryptic?
( he speaks mostly in riddles because that's β¦ just how he is these days, and perhaps it's a product of willing solitude, perhaps it's something else altogether but he's never been particularly good at normal conversation. not outside of vash, but before he'd woken up here it had been a long, long time since they had been able to sit and have a civil talk.
more than a hundred years, but that's neither here nor there.
this. this is something he thinks he's quickly catching himself getting used to.
with both of their mugs empty ( all that frantic sipping was bound to leave them like this sooner rather than later, naturally ), neither of them have much to do with their hands, much less their mouths, seeing as keeping hold of an empty mug is a bit of a moot point. her question leaves him more than a little bit speechless for a handful of seconds before he finds his composure again, picking through his words carefully. as though they were bits of glass and he's entirely too mindful of drawing blood.
his own, not hers.
he takes a deep, steadying breath in. ) I suppose β¦ you could give some thought to calling me Nai. ( and he lets it out through his nose, a slow, slightly unsteady exhale. ) If that wouldn't be too awkward a venture. ( there have only ever been two people to call him by his given name. one of them is vash.
the other β¦ it's his fault she no longer draws breath. )
[With nothing more to do with her hands, Meryl shifts to the next most logical thing β washing their mugs out. It wouldn't do to just leave them in the sink, not when they were otherwise idling in the kitchen as it is. She holds her hand out expectantly for the other mug. One way or another, she'll turn back to the sink and start scrubbing. The water runs low, so she can hear Knives perfectly as he speaks.
Not that it matters. Not when she doubts the words she hears anyway.
Her immediate response is to drop the mug she's holding. It's a lucky thing that it wasn't far from the bottom of the basin. The mug thunks against the bottom, but thankfully doesn't shatter. With her back turned to him, he can't see the way her eyes go wide and wild.
His name, the one presumably given at birth, is not lost on her. Anyone that survived July had probably been haunted by the desperate cries of it as two brothers warred through the buildings. Despite knowing, however, she'd never dared to speak the name aloud. If it was something that was meant to be wildly known, Knives would have referred to himself as such.
The conclusion was easy: it wasn't hers to use. At least, not until now.
Leaving the sink be for now, Meryl turns around. Her hands are wiped on her pantlegs, all while she, too tries to find steady ground within her mind.]
Are you sure? [She winces even as she speaks. Clearly he's sure, he wouldn't say it if that weren't the case. But the words are already out in the air, and all she can do is speak around them.] It's not awkward to me, at all, that's not the problem. I just... don't want you to feel like it's an obligation.
( he hesitates a moment, but ultimately gives his mug over for her to wash; of course it had been his intention to do the washing himself, but it doesn't surprise him in the slightest that she beats him to it. always so quick on the uptake, this one β¦
but she's right, dishes may as well be washed and put away to dry if they're going to keep standing in the kitchen like a couple of bumps on a log. it never does anyone good to stay idle for too long.
his brows furrow briefly when she drops the mug, but he doesn't move to check on her; he's sure it has something to do with the mention of his given name, the name of the one he'd once told his brother was dead, and that he'd been the one to kill him, to boot. a name synonymous with the sort of innocence he hasn't been in possession of for over a century in a half, not since he'd caused the sky to fall and broken the trust of the only family he had left.
the name of a frightened little boy that had always wanted to have the same kind of faith in humanity his brother had, but had never been able to find it.
( and isn't that when gods are made, when displaced faith has nowhere else to go? )
it's a name he'd thought he never wanted to hear again, at least not until he'd woken up here and it was one of the first things he'd heard upon seeing his brother again, whole and looking no worse for the wear. he's gotten used to it since then, of course, months upon months of being called nothing but that by vash, and maybe β¦ initially he'd thought that he would never let anyone else use it. between vash β¦ and rem, it was sacred.
and maybe he's changing his mind about that.
when she finally turns to face him again, there's a softness to his expression that only vash has seen before, and a firmness to his voice that means he's serious. ) There is power in names. It's why I sought to change mine to begin withβ ( he starts, and stops, seems to ponder his words before he begins again. ) Leaving that name behind meant detaching myself from everything that had so far come with it. Vulnerability. Helplessness. ( he pauses again. ) Fear.
I don't feel any of that here. Not anymore. So, yes β¦ I'm sure.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
i said DON'T do that!!!
yeah, he's taken to reading a lot during his time here, too. that really isn't outside of his wheelhouse, but it furthers the notion that he's pretty much become a domesticated housecat.
so what if he wants to share something he enjoys with a human that isn't as bad as the rest of them? so what!?
he just happens to be in the kitchen making a cup of his own tea when she decides she should make some for herself, and to say that he lets a surprised noise slip would be putting it mildly β he was not expecting to run into her so quickly after dropping his gift off where she'd find it β but he recovers quickly enough that she might miss it entirely.
knowing her, she won't. ) βOh. ( he says, as conversationally as possible, unconsciously reaching to tag down another mug and set it down where she can reach it. just being, uh. friendly, or something. ) Did you find your gift? ( just. nonchalant as anything. nbd. )
TOO LATE. INSTRUCTIONS UNCLEAR.
But only a little.]
Oh, uh. Yeah, I did! [She holds it out, still cradled in her palms like some fragile thing. Clearly she liked it, even if she's now humiliated at just how much she'd treasured it. She can already hear him laughing at her.
... At least he has the decency to reach the higher shelves for her.]
Were you already warming some water up?
I LITERALLY SAID DON'T HAVE A STROKE IT'S R I G H T T H E R E
( but she has every right to still be afraid of him, even if it's just a little. )
he isn't going to laugh, mostly because he's gotten a bit more used to how easily she startles and how β¦ animatedly she reacts to certain things ( because vash does it too, and he can only imagine they happen to feed off of each other more often than they don't ), and what had he said about the whole of it ( her ) being endearing?
you're welcome for the mug, tiny one. ) Good. ( he says at first, his tone a little flat, if only because he has zero ( 0!! ) idea of how to go about something like this. ) Please don't feel obligated to keep it if it isn't any good β¦ there's, ah. A bit more of a learning curve to tea-making than I was prepared for. ( read: his first attempt was really just throwing a bunch of things that smelled nice in together and the result had been disastrous.
he sniffs, looks up from where a kettle of water is currently warming and nods. ) It should be ready soon.
Hmmmm /doubt
He makes her feel small in a multitude of ways. It's all unintentional, but she can't help but feel, if not nervous, then at a loss around him. Trying to make small talk felt inappropriate. She can't quite fathom asking him about the weather.
For a mercy, though, Knives is the one that picks a topic to settle on. Meryl resists the urge to sigh in relief, forcing herself to listen intently to every word.]
Well, we'll see about the taste but... [Finally she wills herself to turn her head, offering a smile.] It smells good. If it fails at being tea, we can just call it fancy potpourri.
don't you doubt me in my own house
but of course there are going to be times in which they find themselves in the kitchen at the same time. like this one. neither of them knowing what they're supposed to do and both of them feeling just this side of awkward about it. maybe it won't be that way forever, but no one knows in the here-and-now of it.
he's never going to be the sort to default to small-talk in any situation, not only because he's terrible at it but because it's pointless, so the fact that he's the one to be counted on for carrying the conversation forward is β¦ hilarious, if narration is perfectly honest. learn how to talk to people, knife.
her comment makes him chuckle a bit, which probably sounds even more strange than talking about something as mundane as tea in the first place. ) I suppose that is a positive, isn't it? ( he turns just a bit, blinks at her smile and somehow manages to return it with one of his own.
we swear it doesn't just look like he's baring his teeth. ) I would like to hone my skills a bit better, if I"m honest. It's become something of a hobby.
Hm!!!
So for now she settles for the casual brush of elbows in communal areas. It's polite, an amicable relationship between two people who likely never would have thought of it some handful of months ago. And if this is all she'll get, then she'll accept as much graciously.
But still, she's allowed to want a little more. Especially now, when they're talking like friends and he's actually smiling..]
If it's that important to you, then I'm sure it's fine. You don't strike me as the type of guy to leave something half-done. [It's not a slight at him, she promises. She's just gotten a feel for his determination, and knows that he wouldn't have gone into any project, let alone one that would leave him subject to scrutiny, without extensive testing.]
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would it be so hard to believe that, given all these new leaves knives is turning over ( no, that is not a plant joke, just very convenient timing ) β¦ he would want to keep her close and safe as well?
translation: she could demand his presence if she wanted. it may just be a bit difficult to deny such a strong presence anything she wanted. ( but he is not about to tell her that. not in the least. )
the water has finally finished heating, and he moves to pour some into both of their mugs, not speaking up again until he's set the kettle back down and is contemplating his own steeping tea in front of him. ) It gives me something to do. ( he says after a moment of stretched silence. it's about as close to admitting that he feels sort of useless in this place as he's going to get.
he hasn't even insinuated as much to vash. and that's saying something. ) I've also been toying with the idea of learning how to cook. Seeing as so many of you need to eat and all. ( yes, you heard that correctly.
he wants to feed you. )
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So, with all her venom tempered, all she can really do is try to read his movements. Some part of her mind does supply: he's not used to having nothing to do, but she pushes it from her mind. She can't imagine that Knives would be prone to listlessness. Even if he had turned over those new, proverbial leaves, she can't imagine him sitting still.
Surely he would have found something to do.]
I don't think you should have to go out of your way to cook for us. Even if you mean well. [It just feels wrong to have him help out while she's done almost nothing.] There's gotta be something more you can do for yourself. That way you're not feeling beholden to anyone.
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it's been an adjustment, to say the very least of it. but narration is pretty sure that everyone that knows him more than just in passing would say that he's made more than just a little bit of progress.
so don't scowl too much, small one. your face is too pretty for things like that.
who the fuck said that!?he's never been very good at sitting still, it's true, even when vash has always been the one brimming with restless energy; having always had an outlet for it before, his day-to-day in this place can sometimes feel β¦ mundane, more than anything else, but he supposes he could chalk all of that up to it all being so different. and maybe it's part of the reason he'd been focusing on connecting with others more than he would have otherwise.
he picks up his mug and blows absently at the steam swirling upward, gaze flicking briefly down to meryl directly and then settling somewhere off-center. not looking at her, but keeping her in his periphery. )
I don't see it as going out of my way if I wish to do it. ( he says plainly, the implied duh lingering on the back of his tongue as though it might actually come out of him. it will not. that's more of a vash thing. ) There is also gardening β¦ Cain has given me something to take care of and I would prefer not to disappoint him. ( he gave the plant a plant.
he and vash are gonna make a plot for him to do his own gardening β¦ probably β¦ in the very near future. and then this one is going to learn how to take care of plants that don't produce anything but what you get from photosynthesis. novel concept, innit. )
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It still burns, but with it comes a taste that makes her eyelids flutter shut. Maybe it's just been awhile, but it would seem she's thoroughly impressed by the offering.]
It's good. [Her tone is almost dreamy, and the words little more than a whisper. She seems to realize how embarrassing she sounds after a moment, and swiftly twists her head away.] I mean. Thank you. You did really well.
[She swirls the mug idly as he speaks. He might not speak the duh, but she can definitely feel it in his words. It gets him a narrow-eyed look, but she says nothing more. Someone's been thoroughly pacified by her offering.]
It sounds like it'll be a good thing for both of you then. And I'm sure Cain will be happy to see his gift to you flourish.
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maybe he's better at this so far than he'd originally thought. of course, that doesn't mean he isn't going to keep practicing until everything he puts together is perfect in his own mind, but that's neither here nor there.
he finally takes a drink from his own mug, letting the heat of the tea sink down to his core β you know, the sort of thing you can feel all the way down when it's that hot β and sighs quietly in the back of his throat. dare we say happily. ) I'm glad you enjoy it. It was my pleasure to put it together.
( there's another moment of silence as he takes another long sip, breathing in and out slowly through his nose. he's also glad he doesn't get more than that narrow-eyed look, but he might be even more so at the thought that she really does like what he's done for her. )
The idea of doing things with my hands is β¦ cathartic, I suppose I could say? Something. Constructive, instead of destructive.
( AND THAT'S WHAT WE CALL CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT, FOLKS. )
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Not that it was bad by any stretch. Meryl takes another sip, holding it in her mouth despite the way it burns her tongue. She lets herself take in every flavor while she can, before finally tilting her head back and swallowing once more.]
I'm glad you have that chance. I'm sure it never came easy to you before.
[She doesn't know everything about the Twins origins, but she picked up on a few things here and there in the midst of their fighting. Sure, most of what she heard was her own heartbeat in her ears, but she still picked up pieces her and there.]
I don't want to intrude but... if you ever need help anywhere. [She gives a delicate shrug. She won't assume she's cultivated that much goodwill, but she wants to offer it all the same.] We're all trying to survive together, right?
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he's quiet, for a moment, gaze now trained on his mug before him; there has been a lot of time and space between where he and his brother had started and where they are now, and he's certain there's still a very, very long way to go before they've completely mended the rift between them. the rift that he had caused, and realizes for as much, and is trying to make amends for. )
No. ( he finally says, more to himself than her, but still loud enough that she'll be able to pick up on it. ) It could have, had I wanted it to, but I never thought about it. ( pause. ) Because it got in the way of so much I had planned. It wasn't right.
( he sets his mug down for a moment, fingers resting against the edge of the counter; for a handful of very long seconds he doesn't look back down at her, almost as though he's either having an existential crisis or a come-to-jesus talk with himself in his head, we'll never know.
but then she says that and he finally turns to look at her again, eyes wide and brow furrowed. like such a thing had never been offered to him before. ) You β¦ would help me? If I asked?
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But it was just as she said. They were trying to survive together. Even if she couldn't fully process what had come to pass between not just the brothers, but all of humanity, she could empathize. She could lend him strength, and maybe β if she dared to be so bold β she could grant him faith in at least one human.
With this resolve in mind, no one would blame her if she reached out to him. Allowing her fingers thread in between his would only be the next natural step. Contact was a normal, human thing to offer in time of need, after all. Where words failed, her strength would come in the form of a gentle touch. Even for someone as awkward and fumbling as her, this much was second nature.
β So second nature that she doesn't realize she's actually done it until she feels the cool press of Knives' own skin against her own. There's a moment where she freezes, wondering if this is a mistake, wondering if he'll pull away. But rather than pull back and make a fool of herself, she commits.]
I'm here for you. That's what friends are for.
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curiously, he hasn't had a single ill thought of humanity in general since the human next to him had shown up. and tried to effectively beat him up, but. he's learning that the small ones are always the most feisty, even if he could have guessed it from the very start. before they'd both come here.
her second nature is so foreign to him that he's the one that almost pulls back from it; it startles him, to say the very least of it, a bit of a tremor working its way through him from their point of contact, where she's laced their fingers together and he's almost certain he stops breathing for a handful of seconds. long enough for him to register the touch of skin against skin, cool against warm, how soft her fingers are.
he's so unused to touch that doesn't come from his brother that it takes him a moment to pull himself together, and before he realizes it, he's squeezing her fingers in return. subtly, but it's very much there. )
Friends. ( he says quietly, voice barely above a whisper. it feels tentative, what he wants to say next, but she's taken her chance with him more than anything else, and it's his turn to take a leap of faith. ) I believe you're the first I've made here, little one. ( despite vash wishing he would get out and meet people more, he's never going to put himself out there as much as his brother does.
and he isn't being condescending, either. not in the slightest. welcome to your new nickname, but we aren't going to be upset if she gets all huffy about it at first. or stays huffy about it. it's going to stick, so she might as well get used to it. ) I'm here for you as well, should you ever have need of me.
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And yet after a moment of hesitation, his fingers brush against hers, and she practically sighs out her relief. The thrill that runs through is so powerful, so electrifying that her knees feel weak for just a second. It's a miracle she pulls herself enough together to focus. lest she wind up making an even bigger fool of herself than she has just gaping at him.
Friends. The first. She should be touched, take his gentle words to heart. It's a hell of a step for Millions Knives, and a damn weighty compliment for someone like Meryl. Yet even as she turns the words over and over in her head, the sticking point ends up being, well. Sticky.]
Little one?! [Her voice tips up in pitch as her gaping turns to outright glowering. She'd been so nice to him, too!] Oh, real funny - [She's going to take a page from Roberto's book here. Thanks, again, Drunkle.] Hundreds Spoons!
[She scowls up at him with an expression that some might consider fearsome... if not for the fact that she's still holding his hand.]
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but he maintains. he holds firm. he steels himself for the sort of contact he would never, ever have expected to actually enjoy from a human, but then again it's been said before that she has, essentially, overshot any expectations he might have had to begin with. hasn't it?
he really doesn't mean his words to stick like they do β it isn't as if he knows anything about wolfwood calling her little lady when they'd first met β and because he doesn't have much experience in being around others like this, the way she puffs up β¦ almost makes him laugh. because it's endearing in a way he isn't about to put a voice to, and. well. kind of cute in another that he's going to keep to himself. for a myriad of reasons.
his eyes are practically glittering at the edges when he gazes down at her again, having looked away in a valiant attempt at keeping himself in check ( and it worked, thank you ), and damn everything if the smile spreading across the bottom half of his face isn't almost identical to some his brother has given in the past.
it's in the small nuances that one really can tell they're twins. ) It'sβ ( breathe, knife. you really don't want to ruin this, do you? ) You misunderstand, I mean no offense. ( he promises, even if he pauses at 'hundreds spoons' ( thanks, roberto ) and offers a quizzical look before carrying on, gently squeezing her fingers again. )
I mean it as a term of endearment. ( you are little, you know. and you're a baby in age compared to him and vash. )
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Endearment. [She huffs.] I'll give you a pass because you're still learning, but it isn't very endearing being talked down to.
[But if that weren't the case... why did her heart skip a beat when he said it? Why did her stomach rustle with a sudden bout of butterflies? It's an embarrassing reality that she doesn't want to think about for a multitude of reasons, none the least of which come back to the fact that he's being rude!]
Let's try a list of other things you could call me. Smart One. Pretty One! Determined One! Heck, you could even call me Human One!
[Still huffing and puffing, she finally picks up her tea again. She finds a way to sip it angrily, even if it doesn't linger long. The reminder that he made this for her, that despite his missteps, he's trying to be nice keep her from maintaining a grip on her wrath.]
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he lets her go on, and on, and on as she huffs and puffs ( better be careful that you don't blow the place down ), only speaking up again when he thinks she might be finished, still watching her quietly from out of the corner of his eye. at least β¦ he isn't laughing anymore. ) Pretty One β¦ I think that's a good match, but it doesn't have quite the same ring to it, does it? ( he's teasing, just as much as he thinks she'll let him get away with, but at least he's pretty sure he knows when to dial it back because she's going to blow a fuse otherwise.
a beat, and then: ) Feisty One would also work, I think. ( and excuse him while he hides his grin behind the rim of his mug as he finally drains what remains of its contents. please don't kick him. )
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Fine, we can absolutely settle on - [Her jaw promptly snaps shut. I think that's a good match, he'd said. She knows better than to think that Millions Knives, of all people, thinks she's pretty, but let her live in the fantasy for just a few seconds.]
Feisty one is fine. [She grumbles it quickly, before lifting her mug up. She sips her tea loudly, as if to put an end to the conversation. Nope, she's not going to entertain these thoughts any further.]
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he may as well count himself among those that want to protect her, now. as tentative as their friendship is, he's decided that much. whether she knows it or not.
maybe he'll just keep it to himself for the time being. what she doesn't know won't hurt her.
he hums quietly under his breath, in the back of his throat as she hides the bottom half of her face behind her mug. ) Pretty feisty one. ( he finishes, and yes, there is emphasis on that first word, but it could just mean β¦ that she's pretty feisty. he'll leave that up to her to decide. )
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Not that it keeps the tips of her ears from warming instinctively all the same though.]
We can - go with that. [She gives no indication one way or another, merely agrees with him in the most mild of ways. She immediately tries to cover it up with another sip but... alas. All of her panicked sipping has left her mug empty.
Which means there's nothing to keep her from saying something absolutely stupid.]
And what are we meant to refer to you as? Handsomely cryptic?
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more than a hundred years, but that's neither here nor there.
this. this is something he thinks he's quickly catching himself getting used to.
with both of their mugs empty ( all that frantic sipping was bound to leave them like this sooner rather than later, naturally ), neither of them have much to do with their hands, much less their mouths, seeing as keeping hold of an empty mug is a bit of a moot point. her question leaves him more than a little bit speechless for a handful of seconds before he finds his composure again, picking through his words carefully. as though they were bits of glass and he's entirely too mindful of drawing blood.
his own, not hers.
he takes a deep, steadying breath in. ) I suppose β¦ you could give some thought to calling me Nai. ( and he lets it out through his nose, a slow, slightly unsteady exhale. ) If that wouldn't be too awkward a venture. ( there have only ever been two people to call him by his given name. one of them is vash.
the other β¦ it's his fault she no longer draws breath. )
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Not that it matters. Not when she doubts the words she hears anyway.
Her immediate response is to drop the mug she's holding. It's a lucky thing that it wasn't far from the bottom of the basin. The mug thunks against the bottom, but thankfully doesn't shatter. With her back turned to him, he can't see the way her eyes go wide and wild.
His name, the one presumably given at birth, is not lost on her. Anyone that survived July had probably been haunted by the desperate cries of it as two brothers warred through the buildings. Despite knowing, however, she'd never dared to speak the name aloud. If it was something that was meant to be wildly known, Knives would have referred to himself as such.
The conclusion was easy: it wasn't hers to use. At least, not until now.
Leaving the sink be for now, Meryl turns around. Her hands are wiped on her pantlegs, all while she, too tries to find steady ground within her mind.]
Are you sure? [She winces even as she speaks. Clearly he's sure, he wouldn't say it if that weren't the case. But the words are already out in the air, and all she can do is speak around them.] It's not awkward to me, at all, that's not the problem. I just... don't want you to feel like it's an obligation.
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but she's right, dishes may as well be washed and put away to dry if they're going to keep standing in the kitchen like a couple of bumps on a log. it never does anyone good to stay idle for too long.
his brows furrow briefly when she drops the mug, but he doesn't move to check on her; he's sure it has something to do with the mention of his given name, the name of the one he'd once told his brother was dead, and that he'd been the one to kill him, to boot. a name synonymous with the sort of innocence he hasn't been in possession of for over a century in a half, not since he'd caused the sky to fall and broken the trust of the only family he had left.
the name of a frightened little boy that had always wanted to have the same kind of faith in humanity his brother had, but had never been able to find it.
( and isn't that when gods are made, when displaced faith has nowhere else to go? )
it's a name he'd thought he never wanted to hear again, at least not until he'd woken up here and it was one of the first things he'd heard upon seeing his brother again, whole and looking no worse for the wear. he's gotten used to it since then, of course, months upon months of being called nothing but that by vash, and maybe β¦ initially he'd thought that he would never let anyone else use it. between vash β¦ and rem, it was sacred.
and maybe he's changing his mind about that.
when she finally turns to face him again, there's a softness to his expression that only vash has seen before, and a firmness to his voice that means he's serious. ) There is power in names. It's why I sought to change mine to begin withβ ( he starts, and stops, seems to ponder his words before he begins again. ) Leaving that name behind meant detaching myself from everything that had so far come with it. Vulnerability. Helplessness. ( he pauses again. ) Fear.
I don't feel any of that here. Not anymore. So, yes β¦ I'm sure.
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