text | anonymous

[fuchsiative]

[ if someone told clarice she'd be reaching out to the rest of her cohort almost the instant she finds her footing on the station, she'd have laughed in their face. frankly, she would have preferred to keep her head down, stay out of the way until she was needed.

but some things were necessary, and dealing with a whole set of people whose backgrounds and experiences she had no clue about necessitated some information-gathering.

reaching out anonymously seemed like a good compromise. ]

mutant

[ she's here for one reason, and one reason only. making a list of those she had to steer clear from is only going to help her achieve her goal in the long run. ]

what does that word mean to you?

Comments

[blackfire]

Hm, am I?

（ there is too much of the universe he does not know to solidly believe one thing or another of this person. ）

I said it was in their best interest, not that they are infallible in this.

However, you may note I have assumed nothing of your intent. I have spoken only in theoreticals.

（ but it says much that she has taken his ifs and mays as gospel truth of such a thing — suggesting a strong possibility that this is someone accustomed to snap judgements. ）

[fuchsiative]

right, theoreticals
why commit when you can just be cagey
but i guess that's the pot calling the kettle black

[blackfire]

Do you expect I have a reason to commit to one particular opinion or another about you as of now?

（ the literality of the translator does him no favours here — he squints at that message a moment, parsing it out. in a land of clay and cast iron, the sentiment does not make much sense — but sam wilson has been of assistance lately as far as understanding idioms goes, and he supposes the message follows enough of a path of logic that he can equate it to a saying in his own native tongue. ）

If you think my questioning your intent is my calling kettles black, then I offer no defense.

[fuchsiative]

i'm not really expecting anything, from anyone

[ she has learned not to. ]

it's a saying
it just means i'm calling out my own hypocrisy in hiding

[blackfire]

Then, will you stop?

（ hiding, that is. ）

[fuchsiative]

i'd like to

[ oh, did he mean on the ship? ]

i know i can't hide here, not when we're all supposed to be work together
i didn't reach out here expecting i'd be able to
but i had to try to do what i could to protect myself anyway
a deal like this? fixing a regret? all kinds of people would say yes to that
and i haven't yet met anyone who would look at what i am and see someone beyond that
so excuse me for being cautious

text ↪ un: 朱

[blackfire]

I do not begrudge your caution. It is natural to be self-protective in such an instance.

For what it is worth, I personally take no issue with those that may strike humans as being different in any respect — be it biologically, genetically, or otherwise.

My name is Itachi.

（ a far cry from the representative kanji he uses on the network, which means only vermillion. ）

text | un: 182

[fuchsiative]

[ ...well. one sincere gesture deserves another. ]

Clarice.

[ she tells herself it's fine. that sentinel services is far, far way from here. and if they aren't, she'll do what she always does, and run.

and maybe one day, her foolish faith won't bite her in the ass. ]

[blackfire]

Have you met anyone aboard the Ximilia face-to-face as yet, Clarice?

[fuchsiative]

no.

[ still hiding, keeping to herself. old habits and all. ]

[blackfire]

I was going to make myself lunch shortly, if you would like to join me in the canteen.

（ he has been too long convalescent — and as the new mission dossier will be in their hands shortly, there is limited time to regain his strength before it commences. his tendency to eat sparingly of plain fare is not calorically sufficient to manage his current condition. ）

[fuchsiative]

[ ...food is definitely one way to lure clarice out. ]

what are you making?

[blackfire]

I had planned on a cabbage rice bowl and several sides.

（ he's not especially big on meat proteins, however — ）

However, it is not difficult to amend that to include other ingredients if you have a preference.

[fuchsiative]

[ look, given her life the past few years, anything not out of a can or gas station hot bar is pretty much fine dining for her. ]

that sounds nice
i'd offer to help but i'm not much of a cook

[blackfire]

I do not require assistance — but I would not turn down conversation.

（ #charactergrowth??? ）

[fuchsiative]

[ why is itachi already in love with clarice ]

oh i definitely can't help you there

[ once upon a time she had better social skills. and then she had to shove that part of herself down down down so the loneliness wouldn't be so hard to live with. ]

[blackfire]

（ is that what we're calling 'oddly fond of stray ferals' now? ）

Then silence will serve just as well.

I will be there in twenty minutes.

（ mostly bc he's been doing katas this whole conversation in the training room and wants a shower first. multitask game on fleek. ）

[fuchsiative]

[ yes.

though — does that mean itachi is learning self-love now? ]

sure

[ she takes care not to commit to anything, unsure if she'll even show up. she doesn't know until the exact moment twenty minutes pass, and she's stalking out her door, making a beeline for the mess hall with her hood pulled up high over her head. ]

[blackfire]

（ absolutely not. no self-love in this house, thank u.

still — he is there as he stated he would be, dressed very simply in dark, careworn clothing. his hair is damp and is pinned up in a bun, and while he is favoring his right side to a practiced eye, it does not seem to be hindering him overmuch.

most notably, his eyes are the brilliant cinnabar red of the sharingan, faintly luminescent, like a flickering candle behind stained glass. he may be making an effort with the new arrivals, but he is not so incautious as to meet one without his greatest weapon close at hand. he has taken care to cultivate the sharingan as what is 'normal' for him here.

he seems exacting as a cook — all the ingredients are measured out and placed in small bowls upon the counter. there is currently a small pan where tofu is turning golden in frying oil. the ximilia rarely has the exact ingredients he requires, so he is using tapioca starch rather than the more traditional potato, but it will still yield a passable result. daishi stock simmers nearby. the kitchen smells like grated ginger and chives, and the hot sear of oil.

when he becomes aware he is no longer alone, he points to one of two small clay cups on the counter without turning, as he is currently occupied by tending the tofu. ）

Tea, if you drink such a thing.

[fuchsiative]

[ she doesn't actually know if she drinks tea. she can't remember the last time she's had it, if she's had it at all. if that cup of warm liquid she'd down from someone's leftover meal at that one diner was tea or coffee or mud — at the time she had only had seconds to take in what she could before being noticed, not nearly enough time to savor it.

today, though, her steps are slow. the squeak of her well-worn sneakers are quiet crossing the hall, and when she takes a seat along one of the barstools by the counter, she remembers she can draw both feet up to perch on the metal rod. that she doesn't have to have one planted firmly on the ground, ready to take propel her far away if she needed to.

it takes a little more effort to loosen the tension in her shoulders; the warmth from the cup to her palms helps. ]

Smells good.

[ she'd meant it when she said she wasn't very good at conversations anymore. but somehow silence feels rude, in this moment. ]

[blackfire]

（ the tofu is divided into two bowls, and the sauce poured atop it. he turns now, the bowls in hand, and brings them to where she is sitting. one is put in front of her, the other set elsewhere. the cabbage will be quick to cook, and the rice is in a cooker, set on a timer before he went to the training room. ）

No guarantee of its taste, unfortunately. I did not do much of this in my home.

（ cooking, he means. he used to stand at his mother's hip and assist her with meals, but it is not a hobby he has kept up in the past decade. unusual or otherwise, he does not indicate any alarm at her appearance. his partner, after all, looks like nothing else so much as a shark. her features are not the least bit noteworthy in the shinobi world, and is barely even unusual. ）

[fuchsiative]

[ when he turns to her, she dares to get a good look at him. young, like her, or thereabouts — but it's his eyes that draw her attention the most. a rich red, what some might consider "unnatural" in her world (she wonders if it's so in his), and she's suddenly brought back to an earlier moment, when she'd squinted hard at the kanji in his username until the earpiece she'd been outfitted blinked its translation at her. vermillion. if it's about his eyes, then she somehow doubts it's all that common. why highlight something if it were plain?

her own eyes are bright, too. irises larger than they should be, a startling green too rich in hue to go unnoticed. through those eyes she can see the energy fields she uses for her portals fluctuating around them, weakened — interrupted? — by the station they're on.

in every other way she looks like any other human back in her world. but a pair of eyes, and odd-toned hair, a couple of marks on her skin — that was all it took to mark her unusual and thus something to be feared and hated. it wasn't fair, any way you looked at it. ]

I used to eat out of dumpsters. [ she looks back down again, ducking her head as she's grown used to doing. ] I won't be hard to please.

[ meals were hard to come by when you were on the run, and so she tucks in like it could disappear from her sight at any seconds. ]

[blackfire]

（ it is not uncommon in his world for the unusual to be ostracized. bloodline limits are feared and fabled in the same breath. it was more unusual than not in other countries to have a child of a bloodline such as his raised among family. many were left orphans, struggling to survive in a place that would use them cruelly or kill them.

he recognizes her tendency. the deflection, making a quip of a matter most would take seriously as the grave. it only makes him cant his head faintly to one side in brief study, and then he turns back to his work. ）

There are many here who enjoy communal cooking, and take no issue with sharing. I suspect Viveca-san may have words for you, should you attempt to forage in such a manner here.

（ despite the fact it's said in his customary deadpan, it is actually

a joke.

sort of

if you squint. ）

[fuchsiative]

[ she's about three-quarters done with her tofu by the time he makes his joke (???), prompting her to glance up in curiosity. she doesn't notice it for what it is or what it could be, just that it seemed... off... somehow. almost unnecessary, where every other thing he's said thus far had such purpose.

slowly, she licks at the leftover sauce on her lips, catches what she missed with the back of her hand. ]

I'll keep that in mind.

[ there's so little inflection in his voice, and even less nuance in his expression, that for all she knows he's being 1000% serious. serious as a grave. and, well, she's met people with a debilitating lack of humor before so it's not entirely unusual. ]

Any other sage advice? From a veteran to a rookie.

[blackfire]

（ when socially awkward hypervigilant people who've spent years in survival mode collide...? #blessed.

as he's stirring soy sauce into the sizzling cabbage — ）

Are there areas you wish to solicit advice on? Presently, were I to take a metaphoric 'stab in the dark' at such a thing, I expect it would only seem arrogant of me. I do not know enough of you to presume what may be useful to you, or what is already familiar.

（ he prefers to use his words deliberately, or not speak at all. ）