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Entry tags:

haruka,
michiru

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[ Monday afternoon. they've had enough time to recover from their latest training session -- Haruka's back is just a little sore -- and she supposes she did promise, or at least, allude to being willing to consider it.

so here she is in Michiru's apartment again, still unchanged from her school uniform, bag slung over her shoulder, about to have her portrait painted. she didn't really feel any particular need to do herself up for the occasion, and maybe she should have, but hey-- if Michiru expected that much of her, she should've gone ahead and said it.

Haruka glances around. not uncertain, of course, just unfamiliar with the workings of this whole thing. ]

So, how are we going to do this?

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You make it sound as if I didn't work hard to become as good as I am!

[ It's playful indignation. ]

[ teasing right back ] Heh, I see. So even a girl like you wants to be praised as a hard worker.

I put the hard work in, didn't I? Who wouldn't want recognition.

[ It's rhetorical, not really phrased as a question, and Michiru leans to peer at Haruka. ]

Tip your chin up just a little, please? Like this.

Guess so. [ somehow, Haruka had taken her as someone who was beyond needing recognition from others. perhaps it's because, despite the work she puts in, everything seems to come to her with such little effort -- like it's ingrained into her very being, almost.

she does as she was told. ]

[ She does what she does because she loves it. She loves to paint, loves to swim, loves the violin with all her heart, and still would even if she were never recognized for any of it. But this was supposed to be playful banter, right? She's allowed to be silly.

And, privately? The recognition of her efforts is nice. ]

You have a very graceful face.

[ she can't help but laugh at that, though she makes sure to quickly smooth out her features and return the tilt of her head to the correct angle. ] There's one I don't hear often. It's usually 'handsome', or 'cool'.

'Handsome,' really? That's a surprise.

[ Trolololol.. ]

[ with obviously fake surprise: ] Really, you don't think it suits me?

No, not at all! You're certainly too delicate for a description like that.

[ Haruka may not be able to see her smile, but it's audible in her voice. ]

[ and she can tell easily enough. ] Delicate? Come on, if you say stuff like that, you're going to get my feelings hurt.

Oh, no! I'll be more careful about what I say around you, then.

[ She's chuckling softly again, going back to her painting, falling again into silence. ]

I'm delicate, after all.

[ Haruka does the same, a faint smile still playing on her lips. the antsiness from before has subsided so long ago that she can't even remember why she felt it in the first place.

for the time being, at least, she seems satisfied to stay quiet. ]

[ Michiru is similarly quiet for a while, basking in the comfort of this, of her painting-- but finally she puts the brush down, stepping back and stretching. ]

Can we take a break? Are you hungry?

[ Haruka gets to her feet, taking a few steps forward, towards the center of the room. ] If you want to eat, I'll join you.

[ another step forward, and she tilts her head in the direction of the easel. ] Can I see what you've got so far?

[ Michiru lifts her eyebrows, holding one hand out, palm toward Haruka. ]

Not just yet. You can see when it's finished, alright?

[ in response, she presents Michiru with a pout so exaggerated in its childishness that you couldn't possibly believe it's genuine. ] So that's how you're going to be, huh... fine, then. [ at which point she stops trying to retain the expression ] So what's for dinner?

[ She absolutely doesn't believe it, not for a second- but she does laugh, just slightly, her expression cracking just a little as she presses her hand to her mouth to stifle the sound. ] Do you like stew? I've got some ingredients I need to use. [ And it's hard cooking a meal for just one. ]

Yeah, sure! [ in all honesty, anything Michiru makes is fine by her -- she's a good cook, and Haruka is, admittedly, a bit hungry. ]

Edited 2012-11-05 04:25 (UTC)

[ Michiru heads to the kitchen, there, sort of expecting Haruka to follow her. ]

Mm. You're different than what I expected, you know.

[ Way to just be all Honesty Hour up in here, Michiru. ]

[ and Haruka does, sure enough. that statement gets an eyebrow raise out of her-- it's not the sort of thing she was expecting to hear from Michiru, all the more so with no discernible precedent. ]

That so? For the better, I hope. [ though the words are her usual teasing-nonchalance fare, her curiosity manages to seep through. ]

[ Michiru busies herself with the stove, by carefully preparing ingredients. She's not looking directly at Haruka, though her tone is still pointedly light, almost teasing. ]

I never thought the woman I spoke to on the ship after my concert would ever let me paint her.

[ Haruka had prepared herself for some lighthearted jab or another, maybe about the composed vibe she gives off but then proves incapable of sitting still in a chair and keeping quiet for an hour, or how independent and self-sufficient she looks while the most use she can be of in the kitchen is reaching the high cabinets. those are all things she could've easily laughed off -- even if there's more truth to them than she would've liked, they're so minor and inconsequential that there's no need for her to pay them any mind.

this, though, was something wholly different. it feels so far away from her, now -- their first meeting, their conversation on the ship -- and with how comfortable she is being around Michiru, it may as well have been a different person altogether back then. but in reality, it's only been a mere few weeks, and it was her, the exact same Haruka Tenoh, selfish, cowardly, cold, and unnecessarily cruel. Haruka would like to think that she's changed since, and that she will change much, much more from this point on, but really? it hasn't been nearly enough time for her to claim, and much less honestly believe, that that part of her is gone. she wants it to be, she wishes it were, but it's still there, just lying dormant within her.

and even if it were gone now -- it doesn't come close to erasing what she did. ]

Yeah. [ it's small, awkward, and severely lacking on every level. Haruka falls into a brief silence, teeth digging into her lower lip as she searches for something more to say. ]

I'm not proud of that.

[ The smallness of Haruka's voice catches Michiru by surprise. She hadn't meant to seriously chastise or scold her; she'd expected the other girl to laugh, to make some dismissive comment about it and brush it off, and she realizes only belatedly how it may have sounded.

Haruka had been scared - of course she had been reluctant, a little cold. But when danger had really presented herself, hadn't she taken her wand and transformed without complaint? That was a more important measure of character than initial fears and brusqueness. ]

I'm not proud of everything I've done, either. [ Michiru hands her two plates and some silverware, a silent request to set the table. ] We're lucky that those moments don't define us, hm?

[ Haruka doesn't understand how Michiru can be so forgiving when she can't even consider herself deserving of it. but it ignites a warmth in her chest, sends a slow smile sprawling across her lips. ]

... That's right. [ she takes the dinnerware -- her fingertips brush against Michiru's, momentary and insignificant -- and then turns away, going about setting the table with her usual quiet neatness. ]

[ Michiru's fingers curl- she has to swallow an almost longing murmur, and she turns to actually start making dinner. ]

I told my parents that we had met. My father was very impressed!