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Rose & Karkat Explore Lalonde Manor

Summary:

Karkat whistled quietly at the dizzying sight in front of him as he stepped inside past the sliding glass doors leading to Lalonde Manor's interior. It was a distinct oddity in architecture, very clearly an ostentatious display of wealth in cubic, semi-brutalist style, far from the gaudy, classical Victorian manse one would associate with the term "Manor", but when you gave it an ounce of thought, there was very little else it could be described as. Outside the glass windows, a roiling snowstorm began to whistle its way across the air, starting in small little flurries and rapidly picking up steam, depositing small coatings of snow on the trees and the buildings, ounce by pitch white ounce.

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Work Text:

Karkat whistled quietly at the dizzying sight in front of him as he stepped inside past the sliding glass doors leading to Lalonde Manor's interior. It was a distinct oddity in architecture, very clearly an ostentatious display of wealth in cubic, semi-brutalist style, far from the gaudy, classical Victorian manse one would associate with the term "Manor", but when you gave it an ounce of thought, there was very little else it could be described as. Outside the glass windows, a roiling snowstorm began to whistle its way across the air, starting in small little flurries and rapidly picking up steam, depositing small coatings of snow on the trees and the buildings, ounce by pitch white ounce.

"What a fucking place." Karkat mumbled, staring upwards at the towering ceiling overhead in the foyer. There were all the trappings of a typical living room, only magnified by monetary value and investment time, gaudy couches in a very 80s-90s conversation pit, a burning fireplace kept perpetually alive by a dutiful Rose, a recliner stuffed in the corner with obvious scuff marks on the hardwood floor from Rose dragging it there and accompanied by a stack of rabbinical texts. A small cat meandered his way around the living room, which seemed oddly inert, bereft of life. There was carpeting, and yes, an entire wizard statue, and paintings on the wall (either of wizards, of Rose), but when multiplied by the empty space they resided inside, it turned the whole locale into a brusque caricature. An entire manor for two people and a cat, bereft of accompaniment. "If I had all this space I'd probably use it for something. I don't know. Have you ever considered building, like, a fucking cat shelter or something?"

"Several times, actually." Rose replied, shutting the front door behind Karkat and clicking the lock into place, knowing that the gale force winds of the regular winter snowstorms would easily blow it out of place and let the creeping cold inside. "The problem is that if I suggested it, I am 100% certain my mother would actually allow it to come to pass, and I am not ready to dedicate my life to taking care of cats quite yet. We'll see if I remain girlfriendless into the late twenties before I begin entertaining the possibility."

"Classic cat lady joke." Karkat quipped, tracing his hands along the walls, feeling them for dust and texture. Raw concrete, it felt like, sanded down and smoothed off into an unnatural level of frictionless detailing, a rough-smooth texture that bit at his fingertips with cold and microscopic ridges, like brushing against the tips of a thousand angry blades. A deeply impersonal home, an exquisite prison. "How do you deal with this shit? It's so fucking empty I think I'd go insane."

Rose shrugged, wandering to the kitchen attached to the foyer, separated only by a small, embarrassing indent in the floor plan that called itself a "wall". It was open concept before such a thing became vogue, and every step across the wooden floor echoed loudly, just once, before getting sucked into the concrete floors and the ??? ceilings like they were sponges, harshened at the edges but full stopping like a clamped cymbal. "Who's to say I haven't? Anyway, care for some food, drink? Wine? I'm sure you've had quite the exhaustive trip, considering the distances you've had to travel."

"Rose, we're 16. I'm not stealing your Mom's wine." Karkat grumbled, following Rose to the kitchen, his shoes clacking quietly against the floor.

"Who said anything about stealing?" Rose replied, grabbing a Diet Coke from a stainless steel fridge inserted between slices of granite countertop, black and threaded with veins of white and gold, polished to a smooth lacquered finish. There wasn't an ounce of wood to be found, even in the cabinets, just thick, firm plastic-like material. Plastic, metal, and stone, in black and grey and black and gold. The fridge was covered head to toe in magnets, pinned notes, drawings from the first, second, and third grades (and kindergarten) held upwards for posterity, yellowing at the edges. Rose shut the fridge door and paid them little heed, watching the pitch black cat jump onto one of the padded chairs, and up onto the countertop of the center island. "Oh, hello, Jaspers."

Jaspers meowed in response, while Karkat opened the fridge again, looking up and down, examining it for food. Everything name-brand, in ritzy containers and fancy script, the only hint of authenticity given in a cardboard box of Diet Coke cans. So, he reached into the bottom drawer and grabbed a Fresca. "What's the food situation looking like? I don't know what's yours and what's your mom's."

"There's not really a difference. That being said, I do have dino nuggets." Rose answered, pointing Karkat to the freezer drawer beneath the fridge proper. He shut the fridge door and pulled out the freezer, reaching for the bag of dinosaur shaped chicken material.

"Yeah, dino nuggets sound good." He answered, pulling it out and plopping the bag onto the central island while Rose slapped the top oven a couple of times to get it working.

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