Their first meeting, she remembers, could probably have gone a whole lot better.
Caught in the whirlwind of her own debut, her entire day to that point had been one big rush. Rush to press conferences. Rush to gigs. Rush to studios for last minute recordings and rush to makeup artists to get that flush off her face and hide the shine of someone trying to get to too many places all at once. It's sit up, sit down, hurry up and wait and by the time evening comes and she's found herself at home, it's all she can do to change into some jeans and tanktop before collapsing on the sofa and snuggling her cat.
Naturally, this is not when her day finally gets to end.
“So.” The lady says, hands on hips at her doorway with what has to be the most terrifying smile she has ever encountered. “You must be Mew.”
She remembers hoping that hadn't been a pun. The question of a stage name was one they'd thrown upon her as if already expecting an answer, and in her rush to get something out she simply parroted what her cat had said.
She remembers realising then the importance of not making key life decisions based off your pets.
The lady is laughing, and all smiles but she's so finely dressed she feels a shambles on a roadside. She looks a mess she knows and someone with that fine attention to details can't have missed it yet there's nothing hostile in the lady's gaze.
“Come along.” Prima says, grinning with mountains of cheerful arrogance. “You'll be late.”
-----|||-----
She feels as if she's stumbling, dragging herself around by her feet and trying not to fall or embarrass anyone, and the lady at her side isn't helping. The lady is so bright; like diamonds; she glitters, feeling like ballrooms and culture and glamour. Until now Mew has only been in front of microphones and cameras; here she's about to meet the real stars. Prima is bringing her into this world, and she's trying desperately not to trip at the doorstep.
She feels as if she has to apologise. “I- I wasn't expecting you to come all this way-”
Prima, for her part, is busy touching up her nails as the black limousine streaks through the evening traffic away from the safe and comfortable mess of her flat. “Hmm, yes, well, I always think it's important to make a first impression.”
Prima sits immaculate, earrings glinting in the roof lights, the flower in her hair vibrant and freshly picked.
She tries desperately to keep herself from adjusting her bracelets, and tries to ignore the cat hair she knows is spreading in the backseat.
Prima laughs. “You shouldn't worry, dear! You'll be fine!”
-----|||-----
It's several months before she sees her again in person, timezones and continents easily their greatest enemy. Prima had been true to her word; compared to some of the other members of the Vocaloid team she finds herself feeling downright ordinary. No weird gem headpieces or oversized cat helmets here.
(Especially the one with the cat helmet. She tries to avoid the one with the cat helmet. Far too much awkward for all involved.)
Prima, it transpires, dresses for the highest occasion just because she wants to. The situation doesn't matter; Prima is always at her best. Part of her wonders if this is just an English thing, but when Miriam dresses nearly the exact way as Mew that theory falls to the wayside. Whatever the occasion, it makes her immaculate and impossible to miss.
Even though they're both Vocaloids, looking at her is like watching another world. She can't help but stare.
-----|||-----
Awkwardness slowly grows to familiarity. Prima does not accept her; she has never needed to, nor had any problem at all, and eventually Mew figures this out. It makes her laugh; interaction becomes easy. They attend each other's concerts, watch each other's shows, even record a few duets. Keeping in touch is still a problem, but they see each other more and more with group projects and events as the Vocaloid name grows and grows and Mew finds her place in the world. It's a surprise for her; suddenly she realises she's grown used to the hectic work, and all she wants to do is laugh.
Prima, sitting opposite at the time, giggles into her wine glass as they drink the night away.
-----|||-----
There's no major change. There's no brooding or sudden confession. One day, they find themselves in each other's arms.
And neither can complain.
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