#mitulakri

She lives out loud and doesn't brake for anyone.  She's everything you wish you could be in a troll: edgy, charismatic, cool, respected by trolls across the spectrum.

But he never understood the depth of his feelings for her until his caliginous threads tangled with Mituna, her longtime matesprit.  And no, it wasn't out of any jealous antipathy (though jealously was present); Mituna needled Kankri relentlessly, undermined him at every turn and just generally pissed Kankri off.  He'd never been this fired up about anyone, especially with any sort of intent behind his fury.  He struck back in his own way, intellectually running circles around the obnoxious outspoken psionic only to wind up with a black eye or two when Mituna accidentally crashed into Kankri on his board.  It was worth eating shit to get Kankri on his back, and before either of them knew what they were doing Kankri had smacked his helmet off and Mituna was thrusting his split tongue down Kankri's throat.

And that's when Latula crossed the line from quieter observer to active participant in the strange and confusing embroilment of not-quite-rivalry, wedging herself between the two of them and throwing down the auspistice card.

"What is his problem?!"  Kankri squawks, his bright red pride dribbling down the lush slope of his bottom lip nicked by an errant fang.  He's still reeling from the kiss--his first in sweeps--and horrified by the fact that he liked it and wanted to dive back in.  Still, he had an image to maintain, and this was Latula's quadrantmate.  What if she didn't approve?  What exactly was she approving of?  Kankri had considered himself celibate (another ruse he hides behind to preserve himself).  "Your matesprit may be a survivor of pan injury, and though I feel that utmost patience must be taken in asserting his comfort, there is a certain e--"

Latula--beautiful, radical, luminous Latula--is suddenly kissing him, and he's never been happier to be silenced.  When she at last breaks the kiss (Kankri could have held on forever), she curls her lip and smugly replies:

"Kankz, you're the smartest guy I know.  You mean to tell me you don't know what's goin' on?"  She smooths her hand out over his chest, drawing attention to the heavy thumping of his pumper through his trademark sweater.

Mituna peers over her shoulder, shit-eating grin trampling his mouth, and they're both waiting on him to say something.  And for once in his life, Kankri can't think of a thing to say.  All of the words he could effortlessly spin are knotting his tongue, and his pan is crowded with too many thoughts banging against the walls of his pan.

He doesn't like feeling this helpless, this stumped for words which have always always been his safeguard. 

But when he looks between Latula and Mituna, a feeling tugs sharply at his pumper, a feeling deeply buried in the pit of his insecurities.  Showing weakness leads to culling, and Kankri has fought hard for his freedom to speak out in the face of oppression.

It's his mouth, ironically, that betrays him, pouring the words unchecked directly from the source.

"What do you see in me?"  Mortified, he immediately clams up, wishing he could swallow his tongue, lose the power of speech, rewind time and forget this ever happened.

But the point still stands.  He knows what everyone thinks of him: dull, boring Kankri, know-nothing-know-it-all that could talk you into a coma.  No one attempts to curb their derision or feign interest in his preachings.   They even coined the nickname the Insufferable in honor of his penchant for long-winded speeches and preoccupation with suffering. 

They've got him pegged all wrong, of course, but...

Why, then, would anyone find him at all appealing?

A gloved hand (Mituna's) slides up Kankri's thigh while another (Latula's) cups the back of his head.  Latula’s uncharacteristically clement smile allays Kankri's flustered condition.  She leans in close enough for their foreheads to touch.

"More than you see in yourself, you nerd."

Mituna's wandering hand squeezes Kankri's groin who nearly leaps out of his skin, so completely unaccustomed to such attention (but is he really so opposed to it?).

"NOT GONNA SPELL IT OUT, DOUCHELORDD.  NO TUTORIAL FOR THE NOOB."

Slack-jawed and now buzzing with adrenaline from the excitement of their proximity and he usually hates being touched but this is not at all unpleasant, pitch and flushed emotions course hotly through his mutant blood, roaring like fire and igniting him from the inside-out.  The mischievous duo tumble him to the ground in a heap of limbs, Kankri throwing his arms around each of their shoulders, hanging on for dear life even though his back is against the floor.  He half-expects this to be some kind of elaborate trick--his naivete the cause of many practical jokes--but when Latula captures his mouth again he abandons the nagging thoughts and lets himself feel this in its entirety.  Their tongues slip and slide, his own inexperienced one moving clumsily along hers before she withdraws to allow Mituna to resume the kiss from before; Kankri is more than happy to return it with fervor, this time around.

-

Two perigees have passed and Kankri is still as Kankri as ever: suiting up his mates in safety gear and fussing over them when they try to go without, admonishing Mituna for his excessive use of slurs (and getting smacked by Latula), and backseat gaming.  He has taken a liking to Minecraft though, but mostly so Latula will sit in his lap while he plays.  In his more lucid moments, MItuna has taught Kankri some boarding moves, and though he may never use them he delights in spending time with his kismesis because he thrives on the idea of volatility.  Mituna keeps his pulse racing for confrontation, and in his own sporadic way he pushes Kankri to be stronger, physically and otherwise.