Caretaker Kankri: Kankri X Female!Reader Part 6

The following evening Kankri awoke to the feeling of uncomfortable warmth, and the melancholy fogginess which sometimes follows after you fall asleep crying. With a moan he turned his face up seeking air and stretched, only to feel another body shifting against his own. With a jolt he pushed himself up onto one arm and looked down upon your sleeping form. The movement jostled you, and with a shiver you turned, seeking the warmth of his vacated spot. Your repositioning curled you further into his lap, causing the flustered troll to stiffen in uncertainty. Should he awaken you? Dislodge himself carefully and let you sleep? Or listen to that small, selfish part of him that wanted to lie back down and hold your sleeping form?

Blushing furiously at his presumptive and inappropriate thoughts he lifted your legs to slip out from under them, moving cautiously so as not to awaken you. Once away from your body heat he feels the chill in the air from the night’s rain on his hands and face. Looking out the window he realizes the storm has not abated, and the water is still pouring fiercely from the sky. Kankri sighs in consternation and worry.

‘Surely [Name] will n9t f9rce me t9 walk h9me in this weather. I supp9se I can 9nly h9pe it a6ates 6ef9re I 9verstay my welc9me.’ Turning back he observes you shiver in your sleep, coughing for a moment, and attempt to bury yourself into the shelter of the couch, away from the cold air. Disgruntled by his lack of foresight Kankri paces your hive, looking for blankets. While he is roaming he opens the door to your “office,” as you call it. It contains some of your favorite instruments, as well as your supplies for drawing and painting. Numerous projects dot the walls of the room or stand upon easels, a few not quite finished and some only preliminary sketches for ideas you would refine later. The artwork leads him to pause. He didn’t know you could draw…

But this is not the point of him snooping through your house. He needs to find you a covering, before you get any sicker. He quickly locates one in a nearby storage closet, and brings it out to throw over your resting form—and that of the pawbeast stretched out against your back—ignoring the affronted ‘mew’ of the animal, as it doesn’t attempt to escape the covering.  He thought briefly about placing you into your recuperacoon, but what good would the cold liquid do against the chill? And you seemed to be sleeping deeply enough not to need the soper slime right now.

Heading into the kitchen he pulls out his communication device from the pocket of his pants and calls Karkat at home. Amazingly there is service available, despite the rain. After a few rings the call is answered.

“WHO THE HELL IS THIS?”

“Karkat, must y9u answer in such a rude and ungraci9us manner?”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT, KANKRI? DO YOU EVEN REALIZE HOW EARLY IT IS? I KNOW YOU CAN’T SEE THE SUNSET PAST ALL THESE HORNSWABBING CLOUDS, BUT THE SUN IS BARELY DOWN, AS OF RIGHT NOW. YOU ARE REALLY PISSING ME OFF.”

“I ap9l9gise f9r waking y9u, Karkat. Y9u are right, I did n9t realize it was still s9 early. I just wanted t9 inf9rm y9u that I am stuck at [Name]’s hive f9r the m9ment, and may 6e una6le t9 reach y9u in an emergency. If the st9rm a6ates at any p9int 9ver there, try t9 get 9ver t9 s9me9ne’s hive, s9 y9u are n9t al9ne in case anything d9es happen.”

“CALM YOUR HOOFBEASTS, I’M NOT ALONE. SOLLUX, TAVROS, AND GAMZEE CAME OVER LAST NIGHT TO PLAY SOME VIDEO GAMES. SO FAR NOTHING IS DESTROYED. SO DON’T WORRY, YOU CAN STAY OVER AT YOUR FLUCHCRUSH’S HIVE UNTIL THE STORM STOPS WITHOUT WONDERING IF I’LL FUCKING DIE FROM OVERWHELMING LONELINESS AND BOREDOM.

“BYE.” Click.

Kankri glares at the device in his hand, debating with himself over the benefits and possible triggers of calling his dancestor back. He decides it is not worth the guaranteed rant he will receive from the young troll and slips it back into his pocket with a sigh.

Perhaps a novel would help to pass the time while [Name] was asleep.

Kankri heads off to her library, where he had observed an extensive collection of leather-bound books. He roams the shelves thoughtfully, studying the various tastes and genres available before him for a long while before deciding on a particularly engrossing title. Pulling the volume off the shelf he sets off to settle down nearby the sleeping troll, so as to be around should she awaken and need him.

Yet as he passes by the office he slows, thinking about the paintings he had witnessed within. Many of those pieces had featured very familiar faces…

Curiosity overrides his usual inclination toward privacy, and he finds his hand opening the door slowly. He steps inside, book clutched to his chest as his eyes meet the artwork before him. They are representations and recreations of the other trolls, both pre-scratch and post-scratch. They’re extremely intricate and detailed, and somehow each appears to give off an aura unique to itself. Every piece is of the same realistic style—you can tell it was a single painter for all of them—yet none are in any way similar except in the absolute accuracy of the portrayal.

He runs a finger down a painting of Rufioh standing bravely amidst a field of wild beasts tamed by the unique gift of his blood, admiring the sense of companionship and loyalty the painting produces. In another corner he recoils from the darkness and sorrowful regret portrayed in a picture of Kurloz, who seems to be silently cursing the sky for something only he can perceive. Nearby he finds a double representation of Mituna. In the foreground he sits innocently on the earth, smiling in that uncomprehending way he has been accustomed to ever since his accident, while in the background he stands tall and fearless, with an unmistakable air of courage and determination around his figure as he prepares to face off with an unseen foe. The similarity to Mituna before his loss of mental stability is astounding.

Yet in the back of the studio Kankri finds an image that holds him motionless. He sees his own figure standing in an unfinished portrait, staring straight out into the observer’s eyes with his gaze. At first glance he appears to represent a stern sentinel, ready to overcome whatever obstacles he may face in his path. But as Kankri leans closer he could depict the absolute and utter loneliness of the figure portrayed. This piece disturbs him on a level he can’t understand, one he refuses to acknowledge.

At random intervals on the canvas lay strips of running paint, as if some sort of watery liquid had streaked the material while it was wet.  Could it be tears? But why would [Name] paint something that made her so unhappy?

Of course, Kankri couldn't know the abilities those of your blood caste were born with. The information had been lost to any but those with the genetic code for centuries.

With one last glance toward the portrait he closes the door and follows the steps down to the first floor, where he finds you sleeping fitfully. Kankri sits next to your head and smooths his hand down your scalp, moving in between your horns. You turn in your sleep, seeming to seek his touch, but still you twitched in discomfort. At a loss for anything more to do to comfort you, besides rudely dumping you into your recuperacoon and undoubtedly waking you from your sleep, he began to hum the tune he had listened to you sing last night. With a last shudder you settle down, pulling the blanket higher upon your shoulders.