[ One might think Riku's just sauntering over, fashionably late. He's certainly standoffish enough to give the impression, dressed in a pair of jeans with the knees stained by damp earth and a t-shirt that's smudged with dirt, clods of soil in the soles of his boots. He doesn't even head initially for the gathering, where spirits and more human-like people are working on the crafts that will bear their thoughts and farewells to the water.
Riku stoops by the lake to wash the dirt off his hands and arms, only enough to slough off the worst of it. The rest, crowding into his knuckles and under his nails, will come out in a more thorough scrubbing later. He just wipes them dry on his t-shirt - this does nothing to improve the cleanliness of his shirt - and joins the others.
Good timing, because as M.K. turns, it's to find Riku standing there, starting to cross his arms over his chest with a knowing sort of look. ]
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Riku stoops by the lake to wash the dirt off his hands and arms, only enough to slough off the worst of it. The rest, crowding into his knuckles and under his nails, will come out in a more thorough scrubbing later. He just wipes them dry on his t-shirt - this does nothing to improve the cleanliness of his shirt - and joins the others.
Good timing, because as M.K. turns, it's to find Riku standing there, starting to cross his arms over his chest with a knowing sort of look. ]
Giving art lessons now?