seaswept | SPACE WHALES

SPACE WHALES

Michiru's exhibition opened three days ago. "The Night Sky Reflected in the Ocean Waves", she called it. Oil on canvas, the pieces varying in size, but with the same theme running through them. A misty, sparkling indigo-blue, coming to life in dozens of shapes and forms.

Today, she was asked to make an appearance before a group of grade school students on a tour. She gladly agreed, of course. She's happy to discuss her work with anyone who's interested, and she's always gotten along well with children.

Michiru takes great pride in her work; her mother always said it was worthy of museums. Perhaps it's for that reason that she's never ventured beyond hidden little galleries like this one. It's incredibly pleasant, though; the gallery owner was thrilled to meet with her, and gave her a warm, hearty welcome. "It's an honor to be holding your exhibit here," he had said, and Michiru had bowed her head and responded "No, it's all mine".

It's no Louvre, to be sure, but she likes it just the way it is. Simple, comfortable. The glamor, she keeps to her night life.

"Kids," she hears the teacher call out as she approaches, hoping to quiet the large, chattering group with limited success. It's only once Michiru is standing in front of them, smiling warmly, that the children fall into silence. "This is Miss Kaioh Michiru, the artist behind the exhibition we're seeing today. Why don't we give her a nice, friendly hello?"

"Hello!" the children's voices resound in unison, those at the circle's edges drawing closer.

"Hello," she answers back, humbly tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before offering the teacher a small, polite bow. "Thank you for coming today, everyone. I can only hope you enjoy the exhibition. Before we start, why don't I tell you a bit about myself?"

The response is far more positive than the question would normally call for, but Michiru's used to it. "Yeah!" "Yes, please!"

She laughs a little, fondly. "Well, then..."

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"I'm just the driver." Haruka keeps her eyes on the piece she's studying - a piece that's by this person, no less. "Kaioh Michiru", huh? She sees where "Umi" comes from.

The teacher, who has been keeping one eye on the class and one eye on the other chaperone, excuses herself to attend fully to the children now that they're done listening to the artist. Haruka barely gives her a nod, absorbed by the painting. This is....hm. What is....Huh. If she keeps looking at the picture, maybe she doesn't have to look at its creator. This was an accident, after all.

"This your hobby?" she asks, nodding at the painting, but people don't tend to fill art galleries with a hobby, do they. This is another aspect of this woman's life. Kaioh Michiru's life. And Haruka's inserted herself where she isn't wanted.

She'd be kicking herself out, too.

"Oh?" She tips her head towards the twintailed child who came in late. "Are you related to that girl?"

Michiru doesn't acknowledge the remainder of Haruka's words. A shame you just missed question hour, hm?

"It was an accident," says Haruka, then realizes what that sounds like. She tries again - what is it about this woman that completely knocks her off her guard? She doesn't like it. She doesn't like that they ran into each other here. She doesn't like what that makes her look like.

If she's going to end up thinking about this person no matter what, Haruka's better off staying away. Not discovering that her real name sounds like the whisper of surf on a seashore. Not discovering that she's an artist who puts both melancholy and whimsy in her pieces. Not intruding any more than this.

Haruka clears her throat. "Friend of the family," she amends, watching Chibiusa - and when she's watching Chibiusa, she can smile, just a little. "Her parents couldn't make it."

And she's such a good kid. Precocious. Haruka never smiled like this at the club, either.

"How generous of you." There's still a chilly edge to Michiru's words, but it seems to thaw out, just slightly, as she studies Haruka's face.

So she likes children, does she?

As if on cue, Chibiusa turns, meeting Haruka's eyes from across the room. She beams at her -- then her eyebrows shoot up -- and then she's running over to her, practically sparkling with excitement.

"Haruka-nee! Could it be that you know Michiru-san?!"

Oh, dear. Did they look like they were getting along that well? Michiru's smile tugs an inch wider, and she directs an equally expectant raise of the brow at Haruka.

Oh, great timing. Haruka doesn't even know if her own mind is being sarcastic or not.

"Just a little," she's quick to reassure Chibiusa - and equally quick to change the subject. "Did you like the pictures?"

Chibiusa nods. "She paints what she wants to see, what would look best!" she agrees, with a big nod for the painter in question. "I like that better than just looking at what's really there."

"Childish of you," Haruka half-teases. "I am a child!" Chibiusa replies, almost proud.

The teacher, looking over from where she was stopping a boy from climbing on a statue - "Kyusuke-kun, that's not for riding!" - colors slightly when she sees how well the chaperone is handing little miss Tsukino. What a reliable, dependable gentleman! She can certainly forgive his tardiness.

Ah, so deftly deflected. Not as entertaining for her, but Michiru can respect it all the same.

Her demeanor brightens in earnest at the girl's enthusiasm, and she leans down with a warm, sincere smile. This one, too, is not an expression she wears at the club. "Thank you. That makes me very happy."

That it's reserved for the child alone is made exceedingly clear as soon as she turns back to Haruka. "Is it childish?" In an instant, her face has slipped back to its usual composure: shuttered and mild, something like curious, something like a challenge. "I'd say it's a sign of creative imagination."

Haruka shrugs. She's still finding eye contact difficult. "Is a creative imagination an asset in the world of adults?"

She rocks back and forth on her heels, aware those might be fighting words to an artist. But she's just speaking hypothetically, anyway, and while she's looking out across the gathering - at all the happy children - she seems to be looking at something that isn't here. "Everywhere you turn, people shut you in."

Until you end up on a dull circuit, racing in a circle. Until there's no checkered flag in sight.

When will that circuit break itself....?

Michiru blinks, once. She cants her head at the slightest angle -- as if trying to follow Haruka's gaze towards nothing at all. There's a brief pause before she answers, not out of any need to consider her words, but rather to allow Haruka's own to settle.

That went a little deeper than mere artistic evaluation, didn't it?

"You have to pave a path," she finally answers, tapping a finger to the inside of her opposite elbow. One perfectly shaped eyebrow quirks up. "It got me here just fine."

Haruka feels a rather dangerous impulse building up in her and debates stamping it back. But she's here, isn't she? If she's burnt her bridges, they're down already. She can move forward however she likes, too.

"Without any unwanted detours?" she asks, and for the first time, she finds herself able to look over at the other woman. Just let her know this much. Kaioh Michiru the artist - Umi the hostess - are they both the same person? They are, aren't they.

She doesn't get it. But the fact that she doesn't get it makes it that much harder to look away. It's something she's never encountered before. An expansion of her world.

And her world has been feeling small, lately.

Michiru's lips stretch thinner. It's not an implication she appreciates. But her tone remains unaffectedly chipper as she tosses her hair over one shoulder, and goes on to respond:

"My, might you be misunderstanding? 'Here' is far broader," a delicate finger points downwards at the floor, "than just 'this'."

The little girl is blinking up at them with wide eyes, her mouth slightly ajar. It seems they've done a good job of losing her completely. "Huh... this is an adult conversation, isn't it..." she mumbles in awe, before her friend calls her over to let her know they've moved on to the next room. "Ah, Momo-chan! Be right there!"

She bows in thanks before dashing off to join her class, waving back at them with a smile. Michiru returns it with a dainty curl of her fingers, breathing out a small laugh.

"What a well-mannered child."

Haruka exhales her agreement, watching the girl run off to rejoin her friend with a return of that slightly absent-minded smile. When she turns back to Michiru, though, she's being serious. They can insinuate things all they want, but there's one thing she has to make clear.

"Should I leave?" she asks in a low voice, staring the woman dead in the eyes, hoping she can see what Haruka isn't saying since she's made her excuses already: I wasn't following you. And I won't tell anyone.

She likes to think she only makes mistakes once, then learns from them. If Michiru - Umi - encompasses all of the above but doesn't want those paths overlapping, far be it from Haruka to try and smash them together. She doesn't know what this strange preoccupation she's got in her head about this woman is, or what it means, but she does know that it's her business, not the other woman's. The last thing she wants to be is in the way.

Michiru feels the weight to Haruka's words, the intent in her gaze. And she meets them with a slanted quirk of the lips and a minute shrugging of the shoulders. "For all the good it'll do now?"

The line has been crossed, hasn't it? Does she have anything to gain from shooing Haruka away now?

"If you'd like, you may stay." She angles her head to one side, sea-blue eyes narrowing something feline: "Or is my art too childish?"

Edited 2016-05-01 04:56 (UTC)

Ouch. Low blow. Low blow she walked right into. Haruka manages not to wince, but it's a near miss.

"It's - unusual," Haruka admits, having to break that gaze, but partially only so she can look at the closest piece. It's called 'Space' but it features...is that a whale? Hm. Yet, the colors....the sense of whimsy....

This isn't what she'd imagine this woman painting - if she'd been invited to consider that in the first place. She sticks her hands in her pockets, looking for all the world like an actual art critic. Now that she's been given permission - if permission with a warning - to be here, she can relax a little.

That's a funny feeling: the sensation of needing someone's approval to do something. It isn't bad, somehow, in this case. Haruka examines the painting, in profile, chin tipped up, with a reflective expression on her face. "But I don't dislike it."

Michiru's head bobs, and she raises a hand to her lips to stifle a giggle. Quite the art critic, indeed! When she retracts that hand, the smile on her lips is teasing, impish. "And that's all that matters, hmm?"

The corners of her eyes, though, crinkle with an honest hint of good humor. "But I do believe those are the first positive words I've heard from you yet. You're considerably more amiable in the daytime."

As opposed to, say, when waiting outside her workplace at three in the morning.

Haruka shrugs. "Humans are diurnal."

Weird. She doesn't usually use words like that. This atmosphere, and the contemplation of Art, must have her in a thoughtful, almost academic mood. Which is kind of funny.

While she's at it, though, she might as well try a smile - because she isn't completely flubbing this encounter, right? Or rather, whether or not she's flubbing isn't up to her, so it doesn't matter. She can only do what she feels is best. If that's not what this woman wants to hear, so be it. "You were good, too. With the kids."

She's done seeing "Umi" just as a hostess. It had been her mistake to do that in the first place. Now if she could just convince her own mind to stop wondering what else there is to learn...she's never been curious about another person before, not really. Not enough to be bothered by questions about them when they weren't in her presence.

Not enough to wait for them at three a.m., not realizing what that would look like, just so she could see them when they weren't working. They need to move past that. And either away...or towards something else.

Haruka just has no idea what.

Michiru's brow lifts, impressed -- be it with that little display of vocabulary or the fact Haruka has maintained positive conversation for a solid half-minute now is open to interpretation.

"Thank you. You, as well." Her smile softens somewhat, but the teasing edge doesn't keep away for long. "The teacher seemed quite enchanted, too -- or is it always like this for you with women?"

Haruka isn't sure whether to clear her throat or laugh at that - this conversation is taking an odd and unexpected turn, not that she had any expectations to begin with. She winds up making a noise that's a cross between both. And a bit of a sigh for good measure. The fact that she manages to pull this off without sounding completely absurd is probably an answer to the other woman's question in and of itself.

"Is it all right if I take a look around?" she asks, nodding to indicate that she'd like to start walking as they talk, the better to look at more of Umi's - no, of Michiru's art. "I missed the tour, too."

Not just question hour. She should do something about that tardiness.

"Gladly."

There's a lightness to her voice Michiru can't quite conceal. This situation is... awfully silly, isn't it? And likely a good deal more pleasant than it has any right to be. But she saw the look on Haruka's face when she walked in and noticed her, and she saw the look on her face when speaking with that child, as well. In light of that, Michiru finds she can't help but feel at ease in this woman's company.

So sure. She'll walk along.

It's a good few moments before she speaks up once more:

"You didn't come again. Even though I asked so nicely." It's not accusatory, nor is it particularly mournful; a mere statement of fact, colored, perhaps, by the slightest tinge of curiosity. Was it your pride, after all? Or something else?

Edited 2016-05-02 04:23 (UTC)

She'd noticed? Well, in retrospect, that makes sense, but...

This time Haruka does manage to successfully get her throat clear. "I was busy," she says, scrutinizing the painting they're passing to see whether any of this art is more easily comprehended than the space whale. A mermaid? All-in on the ocean motif, huh? And the whimsy.

She'd rather not mention that she was busy driving past, turning her turn signal on, then back off again. Doing loops around the block. Purposely driving to the opposite side of town. Driving, and driving, and driving - until the person called "Tenoh Haruka" slipped away and there was only the sensation of speed, of tires on the road, of being herself by losing herself. The wind blows over the ocean. It doesn't linger in place.

Right now, though, it even appears a little bit self-conscious. "You looked?"

Michiru's lashes paint long, dark shadows over her eyes as she studies Haruka's profile. She's not the type to say much in words, is she? But that only serves to draw her attention to the rest of her. Clever thing.

"I told you, didn't I?" The words are smooth and cool as the lick of ocean waves; there's not a drop of self-consciousness to be found there. "You've caught my interest."

Ah -

She is going to get caught off-guard by everything this woman says, isn't she. Well, fine. Haruka stifles a laugh (she was mostly laughing at herself, anyway) and turns back to the other woman. Fine. If that's how they're going to play this, she'll invite trouble directly. Saves them both the time, and fits with the devil-take-all attitude she's been trying out.

"I don't have a set question hour," she offers - she's not sure she wants to share anything this woman might want to know, but it's better than even half-committing to visit at work again, since she's still...definitely not sure how she feels about that. Even this might just be an attempt to get her to return and spend money in Umi's workplace, but since they're away from that, she'll play along. For the moment.

To see what'll happen next. She only gets that feeling in this woman's presence, too.

Edited 2016-05-03 02:28 (UTC)

How sweet, Michiru thinks, but her expression remains unchanged. "That's all right," she muses aloud instead, clasps her hands behind her back. "The things I want to know about you aren't ones to be asked in words, anyway."

She tips her chin, rewarding the woman with a sidelong smile. "Miss Tenoh Haruka."

Haruka's expression tightens. But only for half a second.

"You've researched me." She'd never given a last name. She'd given a first one at the club with some reluctance - wasn't the type to give a pseudonym, so that at least had been real. Then that means this woman really was interested. Is this much dedication to making a sale typical...? Or...?

Why would that get her heart beating?

"My, I wouldn't go that far." There's an air of mock-offense to her words, one corner of her mouth twisting higher as she raises one eyebrow. What an accusation to make!

"I don't normally pay attention to racing magazines and such, but your face is quite recognizable, after I've seen it once."

"Artists have good memories." Stupid. Haruka tries to will her pulse back down to something approaching normal - not that it's been normal this whole time, drat this coincidence.

"What had you been hoping from me?"

Might as well dig her own grave, lie in it, and toss the dirt back over her own head. That way she can at least say it was all according to her own will. If Tenoh Haruka is going to be outmatched by a woman she met at a club and again at a fancy art gallery, it'll be of her own volition --

The logic got messed up somewhere.

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