John played pranks towards at all the maids with the latest technologies for extra amusements.
John and Jade watched movies and while John preferred action, Jade enjoyed sci-fi…when her narcolepsy didn’t kick in.
They shared and sometimes stole from each other the stuff found in their chests.
They played music with each other. John played the piano while Jade played the electric bass guitar…well, that was a understatement.
They even wore each others’ colors for time to time.
However, this was something in which they never wanted to hear let alone share….
> So what did they hear?
“You surely know why we have asked you here.” the King said to his grandchildren. He looked stern but slightly depressed that John nor Jade couldn’t put a finger on a reason.
“No clue, actually,” Jade responded.
The queen stood up from her throne and walked toward the children, “We have been discussing and well, I think is time my darlings to consider the possibility for you to prepare you two if something happens to us.”
John glanced at the Queen, “Wait, you mean prepare us to take the throne?”
“Did Penelope mention anything to the both of you?” asked the king.
“We haven’t seen PM all day.”
The queen turned to John, “Do you think that she joined the battle? I hope not for her sake.”
“It pains me to say that your father passed on from this life several hours ago.”
“D-dad?” John questioned. Just yesterday he was healthy and in very good spirits. John and Jade refused to believe it as both minds raced to process the information.
“I knew both of you were very close to your father but think of him in a better place now.” She said calmy.
“John, What if this is just a big prank?” Jade smiled, trying to hide her tears away, “Grandpa, please tell us that this is all a big prank and that Dad is going to catapult the enemy with cake again?”
The king walked towards the children, “I’m sorry, Jade and I refuse to force-feed this foolishness to your healthy minds. We saw the body for ourselves once he was identified.”
John tried not to show his tears and stay quiet while Jade openly cried. Both of queen and king held their grandchildren in their arms.
As much as they felt for the little ones, the king and queen believed that the prince and princess needed PM’s support. She always knew how to make them feel much better.
Let’s look into the troll side of things...
>Troll side of things....
“Boooooooored,” Vriska sighed. She sat in front of her mirror, brushing her hair depressed. Her sister Terezi entered the room.
She asks, “WH3N 4RE YOU 3V3R NOT BOR3D?”
“When 8in’t it evvvvvvvver not 8oring?”
“TH3N GO OUT PROBL3M SOLV3D”
“Pro8lem not solved. Every time Mom gets word I have 8een out, she starts complaining why I didn’t do this or kill that. I’m sick of it.”
“TH3N WHY H4V3NT YOU SNUCK OUT L1K3…WH4T 3V3RY T1M3 YOU G3T OUT?”
“Mom has more eyes than spider nanna. I’m getting sick of trying to evade her where it is clearly hopeless.”
“H3R3 YOU GO 4G41N TRY1NG TO G3T P1TY PO1NTS FOR D3F34T”
“Well, 8in’t you lucky that you can excuse yourself with your legislacerators dealie.”
“W3LL 41NT YOU LUCKY TH4T YOU 4R3 TH3 ONLY ON3 R34LLY NOT1C3D BY MOM”
“Ugh,” she exhaled as she threw a pillow at her.
>Nepeta: Pounce Greet.
:33 < *ac sneaks up behind her sister’s entryway and glances at her preys. Her claws are sharp and drawn out. She goes for the kill and….RAWR!!!!* Nepeta pounces on both sisters as she smiles a wide grin. One paw gripped on Terezi’s arm while the other landed in Vriska’s hair.
“N3P3T4! H4H4H4H4!!! D4MN, DONT SN34K UP L1KE TH4T UNL3SS YOU W4NT TO G1VE US 4 H34RT 4TT4CK!”
“Ow, ow, ouch. I think you did a number on my hair,” Vriska winced. Regardless, she smiles back towards Nepeta as the pain subsides. Nepeta just laughs and purrs playfully.
“DOWN G1RL” Terezi ordered her little sister.
“NEPETA! DID YOU TELL THEM THE FUCKING NEWS YET?” Karkat snarled from the hallway.
:33 < *”ac didn’t tell them yet,” she said to karkitty. “ac just came into the room.”*
“UGH! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU, KITTY LITTER! JUST SAY IT AND GET TO THE POINT.”
Nepeta frowned as her sisters stood by her side.
“YOU DONT H4V3 TO BE M34N KARKLES.”
“That was totalllllllly uncalled for.”
“SO, WH4T W3R3 YOU GO1NG TO S4Y, N3P3T4?”
:33 < *ac takes a breath and says, “mom is coming in a few minutes.”*
“Moooooooom? How do I look? Is my hair in order? Do I need to put any extra make-up?”
“TRUST M3. YOU LOOK F1N3.”
:33 < *ac says, “How many time do we have to tell her to warn us in advance?”*
“SHE NEVER LISTENS.”
The four of them could here the echoing shrill of a familiar voice, “)(ello, my c)(ildren!”
“AND HERE SHE IS.”
> Karkat: Go get your other sisters.
Edit: May I have some feedback or something? Sure, I just started but still...
Last edited by techloveArtist; 12-08-2011 at 06:06 PM.
You write with a lot of mistakes that you catch only after you press the Enter button. Your interests include TECHNOLOGY and ART.Your wield the whipKind specibus and have combined your HELLO KITTY UMBRELLA with your WHIP and TAZER to create your awesome weapon. The consorts of your land are HYPERACTIVE LAVENDER CROCODILES who like pranks.
...and paint the wicked pictures with your motherfuckin blood. FROM YOUR VEINS WILL DRIP MY MIRACLES your crushed bones will make my special stardust.
--- apathyAdvocate began trolling absoluteTunnels ---
AA: Hell0, Shim0n.
AT: hI, rEIDIA.
AT: yOU SEEM LIKE YOU’RE DOING GOOD TODAY.
AA: H0w can y0u acertain that fr0m just a tw0 w0rd sentence?
AT: wELL, i DUNNO, nORMALLY YOU LAUNCH RIGHT INTO WHAT YOU NEED, nOT BOTHERING WITH GREETING.
AT: sORRY, wAS THAT OFFENSIVE?
AA: Little b0thers me, n0wadays.
AT: oKAY, sURE.
AA: Since I died.
AA: I have neglected t0 inf0rm any0ne. Ap0l0gies. I have been busy.
AT: i, uHHH, dON’T KNOW EXACTLY, hOW TO FEEL. i GUESS I’M FINDING THIS A LITTLE HARD, tO BELIEVE?
AT: dO YOU MEAN DEAD LIKE A GHOST, oR…?
AT: tHAT WOULD EXPLAIN SOME THINGS. bUT I DON’T THINK I REALLY TRUST THAT STATEMENT, sORT OF.
AT: bUT IF WE’RE GOING ALONG WITH THIS, aND I’M KIND OF HOPING YOUR ATTITUDE OVER THE PAST FEW PERIGEES HAS BEEN SOME KIND OF ROLEPLAY, hOW DID YOU DIE?
AA: Haruk0 Serket.
AA: Y0u w0uld n0t kn0w her.
AA: She is a cerulean bl00ded female.
AA: Sc0rpi0n lusus, ar0und 0ur age
AT: cAN YOU GIVE ME HER TROLLTAG?
AT: i’LL SEE IF I CAN TALK TO HER.
AT: sEE IF SHE’S IN ON THIS WEIRD THING YOU HAVE GOING.
AA: 0r get Kamiza t0 talk t0 her.
AA: Bef0re you go
AA: [COLOR="rgb(0, 0, 0)"]apathyAdvocate sent absoluteTunnels the file “sgrub.exe”.
AA: It is a new game Na0taa and I have been w0rking on.
AA: The dead have been rather v0cal ab0ut it in recent days.
AA: I have heard their v0ices whispering fr0m the v0id. They have been very inf0rmative 0n the nature of n0thingness.
AA: And h0w that figures int0 the game.
AA: That will be very imp0rtant in my title as the Heir.[/COLOR]
AT: iS IT AN RP?
AA: It has many facets, including r0les we must fill.
AA: Y0u, f0r example, are the page 0f d00m.
AT: cAN YOU MAYBE CLARIF-
That girl creeps you out. Even more than she used to in some ways- but you didn’t know her as well back then, so you can’t judge. She was accurate in predicting your call to Kamiza, and you are all the more ashamed for it. One day you’ll work up enough nerve to be a real Troll.
--- absoluteTunnels began trolling grandioseCrackatoa ---
AT: hEY, bRO.
CG: HOW’S MY BLOOD-MO!RA!L
AT: gOOD, oKAY.
AT: uHHH, dO YOU KNOW ANY hARUKO sERKET?
CG: CAN’T SAY ! DO
CG: RED OR BLACK CRUSH >8]
AT: wHAT?! nO! jUST WANT TO KNOW IF SHE KNOWS rEIDIA.
AT: yOU KNOW ANARCHICgUITARSMITH?
CG: THAT B!TCH?
CG: TRUST ME SH!MON YOU DON’T WANT TO GET !NTO ANYTH!NG QUADRANT-RELATED THERE
AT: i WASN’T IN THE FIRST PLACE.
AT: oH, nEVERMIND. cAN YOU MESSAGE HER, aND ASK IF SHE MAYBE ROLEPLAYS WITH rEIDIA?
CG: OKAY !LL DR!VE MYSELF UP THE WALL FOR YOU SH!MON
CG: SHELL ONLY BREAK YOUR HEART
CG: OR SPADES
AT: *sIGH*. tHANKS ANYWAY, bRO.
CG: TH!S DOESN’T EVEN APROACH A PROBLEM FOR THE GREAT KAM!ZA
CG: MASTER !N ALL TEAL C!RCLES
CG: HAPPY TO HELP !S MY PO!NT
AT: gREAT. tHANKS SO MUCH! }:)
You write with a lot of mistakes that you catch only after you press the Enter button. Your interests include TECHNOLOGY and ART.Your wield the whipKind specibus and have combined your HELLO KITTY UMBRELLA with your WHIP and TAZER to create your awesome weapon. The consorts of your land are HYPERACTIVE LAVENDER CROCODILES who like pranks.
...and paint the wicked pictures with your motherfuckin blood. FROM YOUR VEINS WILL DRIP MY MIRACLES your crushed bones will make my special stardust.
Something A Little Special
An Orderly and Organized Study of Work
>Be Terezi Pyrope
You are now TEREZI PYROPE.
And lately, something has been bothering you. You aren't even quite sure what it is. As far as you're concerned, your life is fine. You live far in the desert. The EXACT MIDDLE of the desert, to be specific. Everything you own is ORGANIZED exactly how it should be. Your MANNEQUINS are all in a row, by your CLOTH SHELF, wherein your CLOTH is arranged by COLOR. Your CHALK is arranged by COLOR and SIZE. Not a single speck of dust is ruining your hive.
So this feeling of offness is really making you a tad OFF KILTER.
You've talked to your friends about it. They either don't care, or can't offer an answer. So you're left to sit in your desert hive alone and confused about why you don't feel okay. You're not bothered by anything. Being relatively secluded leaves you to live a life of ease. You have a friend that comes and visits occaisionally. He can't help either, despite how unusually helpful he normally is.
So you've been taking your aggression out in your ART. It shows. You can't really control what you make when you're in the heat of drawing. Your pictures often star your friends, dead. So mostly you don't draw anymore. So you sit in your hive and contemplate the meaning of this.
>Partake in secret passion
Looking around to make sure nobody is around(which is unnessecary because it's your hive) you slip into a room and lock the door behind you. You open a cabinet drawer to reveal all of the TRASHY ROMANCE NOVELS you own. Each cabinet is filled with a different GENRE of SHITTY BOOKS about ROMANCE. You think they're awfully stupid, but you can't stop reading them. You used to doodle rude comments in the margins of the page, but now you just read them for the story.
When you think about that, it makes you want to throw up.
You select one you haven't read yet, about a troll coming back from war on a break to see his young red lover.
Come to think of it, a lot of stories are like that. Do trolls in the military even get breaks?
Planetary conquest sure is confusing.
"Oh, Darias!" she leapt into his arms. "I've missed you so much! Life hasn't been the same without you!" He hugged her tightly.
"Listen, Morihn, I haven't got long. I think," he looked into her eyes. "I think we should finally f-"
Whew. Things are getting pretty hot and steamy in this novel! You're gonna put it down for now.
You stare at the book for a good solid hour, wondering how such a thing could catch your interests. Then you spend another hour adjusting it on the table you put it on so it's in the exact perfect location. Finally you put it in the book cabinet, right where it belonged.
That was an ordeal.
You walk outside and stare at the marvelous blue sky. The sand dunes raises high, and the clouds are perfectly white and fluffy. You honestly couldn't imagine not having vision. Why, that would absolutely be the worst thing that could just about happen to you. You walk around back and see your lusus attending the garden. She chitters to you happily, and you wave back. She sure is affectionate. You think she'll make a great MOTHER GRUB.
You go to a small SWINGY CHAIR THINGY and sit down. You fold your hands, lean back, and think.
Then you adjust the decorative throw pillow next to you.
Then you think again.
You often wonder if there's something seriously wrong with you. The way everything has to be exactly perfect and ORGANIZED. No one else is like that, you think. But, then again, with how your friends are, someone needs to be able to be this ORGANIZED. You suppose. You think your friends enjoy you, despite your stuffiness. You never thought about that much. Even the ones who are kind of jerks are generally good trolls, once you get to know them, kinda.
You look up towards the morning sun and think of a quote.
"It is your work in life that is the ultimate seduction." Troll Will Ferrell said that.
Something I wrote half last-night half-this afternoon; John thinking back on the day so far during the Cascade flash and the most recent update as well, pretty much.
You are the HEIR OF BREATH and you currently stand on the BEAT MESA, floating up towards SKAIA after initiating THE SCRATCH. You've got some time to kill, as this thing is taking it's sweet, sweet time in getting there, so you've decided to reflect on things just a bit.
When you started out today, you thought this game was the coolest thing ever (Well, you still do, in a way!), after all, it had been hyped up to no end by the infamous internet. (Everyone knows GameBro's a joke, I mean, Come on!)
The wall changing was cool but the bathroom breaking ("What is wrong with this picture?" you had asked Rose.) especially was just a stupid quirk, really. "SBURB BETA" is what it's called. "BETA." Of course there'd be glitches! Glitches that allow people to break important plumbing fixtures! That OBVIOUSLY shouldn't be a feature of any game no matter how you slice it.
Then, there was the meteor. And the timer, and don't even try to get you started on the Sylladex Shenanigans!
Then Dad went missing. You were sad, but you knew you'd find him eventually.
The Imps were an annoyance, but you smashed 'em flat- Shooing them when necessary. (You are DEAD SERIOUS, Everyone out!) The Trolling? Admittedly, a small part of you must have thought it was part of the game, but you didn't buy it. What kind of game reaches backwards in time to troll you in the past? (If only you'd known.)
Terezi was a pain, but she left you alone after the whole "Murder me once" Thing, pretty much.
Besides that first incident, she was actually pretty nice to you, all things considered. (You do wonder what would have happened if Vriska had trolled you first, instead of Terezi.) She helped you ascend to the GOD TIER(S? You guess that kind of verbal trick was necessary? You certainly haven't done much climbing yet), and you even had a bit of a 'feelings jam' at one point.
You really look forward to meeting her and the other Trolls, you really want to take her up on that date offer! Vriska is at the top of your "To-Meet" list here. You haven't even seen what she looks like yet! (You have a fair guess though, thanks to Terezi, AND the AWESOME upgrade Vriska's dice gave your hammer.)
Second on the list? Karkat. Really. You've just GOT To meet him, after all the help he's been. You think he might be hiding something though. He didn't seem to want to talk about Vriska...
Hm, You aren't sure what to make of that. Then again, Rose was always better at figuring out people's thoughts than you were. TentacleTherapist is her chumhandle after all.
Oh God. Rose!
She was on Derse's moon just a short while before you began the Scratch! You hope she's alright...And Dave? What about Dave? Where was he in all of this mayhem?
You don't have much time to worry about it now, you suppose. If Liv lived up to her mission and delivered the Tumor Card to Rose, then they're all probably out of the Game session now, if Dave is using his dream-self.
You wonder what Jade's up to now. Probably figuring out how to take the planets away with you when you leave the Session and WOAH. What was that flash of green light inside Skaia?
Yes. Yes she did. Even at this distance, you could tell something happened. Jade took the battle field out of Skaia! You aren't sure how she did it, but...
You spy another flash of green in the distance, roughly where you think Jade's planet is. Yup. That settles it: Jade's stealing planets and taking names.
Wow, you are so proud of your ecto-sister all of a sudden. You had to have Vriska interfering and dropping you into a fire-ey inferno before you even began to unlock your own Windy powers, and here she is, doing it all on her own!
You smile slightly and wonder what she had to do to do this...
You hope Karkat didn't lead her to her Quest Bed or something. That would be all kinds of - WOAH X2 COMBO! Where did that Battle ship come fr-? 3X COMBO! How did you get off of Beat Mesa and--
You Achieve the Legendary, and completely unprecedented SINGLE SECOND 4X WOAH-COMBO and stare in awe at the fully ascended WITCH OF SPACE before you.
...Are those Dog ears?
You continue to stare, dumbfounded, as Jade begins juggling the planets of your Game Session in front of her, pulling them out of their orbits and into their new fun-sized scale.
As you watch, a part of you wonders what happened to Jade here. You really hope it didn't have anything to do with the Trolls... Also, where's Jack? Didn't Karkat say the guy was hanging around her like a lost puppy, or are you not remembering it right?
Did he kill Jade? Intentionally on her Quest bed? How would that even work? You hope he didn't stab her through the back like he did to you!
You aren't sure what to make of this. This whole series of events has completely blown your mind, topping everything you've seen today.
You look up at Beat Mesa... Suddenly so far away! Wow, you're just zipping around the Incipisphere here! But, yeah, suddenly that giant record is getting a lot closer to Skaia.
You go to point it out to Jade, but she seems to be on top of it already, and oh look, there's your house, sticking up from the top of your shrunken LOWAS! You must look like a giant to all those salamanders down there...
Oh God, Casey!
Didn't you leave her with Rose? And if Rose died on Skaia, only to be revived on Derse...!
Well, as long as Casey's somewhere safe on one of the planets.....
You give a small wave to each planet in turn, waving hello to that sweet, cute little child, wherever she may be. Wait. There on Jade's house... The top floor. Why is it all burnt and crispy looking?
...Is that a dead Dersian?
You turn back to Jade and... 5X COMBO! Where did that Wall come from!!?
You guess she's making it with her Witchey powers. "Do the Spacey thing!" a small voice echoes inside your head, begging, pleading, for you to say it out loud. "Do the Spacey thing!"
Wait. Jade's on the wall too?
Also: Everything on the wall is rewinding backwards?? What the...?
OH. It's the Scratch! The Scratch is resetting the timeline and the wall's showing it...!
Oh, there's Dave... And Rose, And- Wow!- that wall is big all of a sudden! Is this Jade's escape plan?
Well, that's rather impressive, if it is. Now how are you going to..?
Your TINY SHIP (when compared to the wall) crashes through that GINORMOUS WALL just as something on the other side flashes green, revealing...
You take a few moments to process what happened- in the span of... you don't know, maybe three nano-seconds??- as you come out the other side of the wall.
There was this second wall. And a third one farther off with the flashy light show? Also some kind of robot dude who just sort of appeared out of thin air and Holy Cow, did you just climb up a level on your God Tier Echeladder?!
Yes. You produced your most spirited LAD SCRAMBLE yet, hopping up to the next GOD TIER. You have somehow achieved the illustrious level of REVENGE OF DOCTOR RAGNAROK. All of your vitals have gone completely bonkers! WOAH 6X COMBO! That is a completely preposterous amount of Man Grit! Why it's OFF THE CHARTS! You're embarrassed to let anyone even know what it is. It's that gaudy.
Well. You Guess Vriska wasn't kidding about the Plural Tiers thing: I MEAN COME ON: This is a completely different animal of leveling compared to before!
Hmm, enough spacing out here- That's Jade's Job now that she's Got that Tiger (Dog? Maybe? What the heck is with those ears anyways?)- where in the universe (or outside of it) Are you?
researcherWisemon - Y0U SP3/\K W1TH C/\PS /\ND NUMB3RS WH3N G/\M31NG and normally when not.
A Bit of Beta!Vriska introspection, and a bit of theorizing on my behalf.
Vriska: Be The Hero, it is You
You are Vriska Serket.
You are a Thief of Light.
You are NOT even close to being a Hero.
You're just Vriska.
L8MEY L8ME VRISKA.
You thought you were doing everyone a favor by going to fight Jack. You thought you would win over your friends with one last act of heroic sacrifice- Hell, even maybe earning a Heroic Death?
Jack killed everyone on the Meteor, and then you killed him.
You beat him to an inch of his life and pulled that god-damned RING off of his hand....
And then you CRUSHED it in your fist and fed him the pieces before running him through with your sword.
You buried the bodies of your fellow Trolls on the Meteor- which apparently he hadn't destroyed.
No. That FLARE OF GREEN LIGHT was the Green Sun Exploding.
Or did it?
You weren't quite sure, considering that the stupid thing was still shining hours after burying the last of... Of Your Friends.
Oh Gog, why didn't you stay?
You would have tried opening a Memo, to apologize, but someone had destroyed every last computer in the Lab by smashing them with a hammer.
That someone was Gamzee.
You chucked him off into sp8ce inste8d of 8urrying th8t 8astard.
You took off on your little fairy wings for the sun soon after that.
It took you months before, in a rather a88riv8ting moment, the explosion's light vanished, leaving you without a guide to the remnants.
By then you were hopelessly lost in the FURTHEST RING'S DREAM BUBBLE MAZE. So you wandered.
You began to visit countless game sessions's dead or dying dreams. Never meddling. N8VER M8DDLING. Not even ONCE.
You were an OBS8RV8R only.
A Full Human year after your failure, you encountered a Lizard girl who had just suffered a real death and currently was comatose as her Dream Self. The poor thing had been on the receiving end of her Session's Jack's Regisurp and subsequent betrayal of the players, and you knew what was coming next.
You told her of the Quest beds that existed on her own Land, and told her of a Quest Crypt that you had heard rumors of within the Dream Bubbles.
You told her to wake up and go find her Quest Crypt within her moon before her Jack destroyed Prospit and Derse. You told her to take her fellow Dreamers to their Quest Crypts in preparation of this as well.
You told her to give Jack hell when he decided to wipe your session out.
Minutes later for you, you encountered the lizard girl again in another bubble, a Day later for her, however.
She thanked you to no end for your help, that Jack had acted exactly as you had said, and that there had indeed been beds deep within their Moons. Lizard girl had taken her fellow Derse dreamers down to their beds not a moment too soon-- Jack Noir had blown it up in a fiery explosion of Grimdark energy.
The Entire team of Derse Dreamers ascended to their God Tier forms and exiled him before the day was out.
You said it was no problem, and went to leave when she hugged you, thanking you over and over for your help.
You'd never been hugged before.
Two Human Earth Years after your session, you were now traversing the bubbles, helping out here and there, whenever you could.
You warned players of the dangers of prototyping Horrorterrors. You advised those who had accidentally prototyped their world's First Guardian. You told those who had that M8DDL8S8M8 WHIT8 T88L of a First Guardian to never give into what he said, and to work around his mannerisms.
You were the Vindictive Savior, and you M8DDL8D for the good of others now.
In some of the bubbles you visited, there were now legends of your appearances to those who had suffered a solitary death among their races. Apparently those whom you had helped before were passing the tale along now.
You had become even more of a M8M8TIC 8AD8SS than your own Ancestor was.
And to think all you did was help?
This did little to inflate your ego.
Despite being almost a full Sweep in the past now, the memory of your dead friends haunted you forever more.
You played it cool.
You Played it calm.
Like a Raven, on the Third Earth Year after you Exiled yourself from your session, you found John.
Not YOUR John, however. This John was a ROGUE OF LIGHT, and he had A WHOLE M8SS of Anger issues.
However, he was in a pinch much like your own session.
His Server player, A boy named Jake, had prototyped something very, very 8AD in this John's kernel-sprite.
And that something had influenced the White King of their session so much that it drove him to the point of beginning the Reckoning and then Exiling himself to their Earth to personally oversee it's destruction- as if the meteorites weren't enough.
Furthermore, he then Exiled himself to the PREVIOUS SESSION through some sort of Device within one of the Exile stations on this John's Earth, preventing THAT SESSION'S Version of yourself and your friends from entering the session, forcing them to hideout on a Meteor that hadn't been sent to Earth.
Something in your soul resonated with this. And, without even thinking, you gave this John the code for your dice, 82THE8TH, and told him to send the Code to His version of Yourself and then to tell her to roll a Perfect EIGHT TO THE EIGHTH roll along with her own dice, if she had them, and, if not, alchemize a second set.
You had no idea what an Sixteenth to the Eighth roll would do, but you bet it would be overwhelming to that confused White King.
You left the bubble and drifted some more.
You never met that John again, but soon enough you met his version of Nepeta, the Mutant Blood of that particular Double Mobius Reach Around.
She thanked you for giving the dice Code, but scolded you for the fact that her version of Vriska had failed to roll a perfect Eight across all Sixteen dice.
She had rolled Eights on all but the last two, which had ended up a Three and Five respectivly.
Eight short, The Dice caused a massive explosion that transformed the rampaging White King into a Massive Black Hole.
Their Genesis Frog had been pulled inside before the Black Hole collapsed on itself. And furthermore, their Vriska had died a Heroic death, having been God Tier and having been caught in the backlash of the Explosion.
You said you were sorry for their losses, and left before she could continue.
You Meddled one to many times, and you were about to give up Meddling alltogether when you encountered...
It wasn't long after that that you exited the Dream Bubbles and found yourself in a Game Session proper.
It was empty of planets, as far as you could tell.
Obviously the Pregame time when everything was static. Obviously.
Right. Prospit, Derse, and the Veil were all intact.
You then proceeded to sneak into Derse's moon, to catch a glimpse of who was playing.
Imagine your surprise when you found what looked like older versions of Rose and Dave.
You had just encountered an alternate version of your own dual sessions, so you weren't as Surprised as you could have been.
In fact, you wrote it off as a coincidence, really.
You proceeded over to Prospit, using your Thiefey powers to make sure you were lucky enough to not be seen by anyone.
What you saw shocked you.
You saw what looked like an older version of John lying on a Quest bed, being carried by the Prospitians towards the Core of their world.
"The Prince is Dead." They were saying. "Our Hope is Gone."
You saw a girl who looked just a bit like Jade, but before you could do anything, she vanished, having woken up.
You looked down, watching this Dead John(????????) being carried away.
You sighed, and turned to leave the session entirely when you heard someone down below muttering something.
"What a fine way to begin the end of the war."
You stuck around. Curious to see what would happen.
You knew today was the day.
The day that they entered the session.
Part of you wondered if this was it, if today was the day you would finally DI8.
So you floated around the path that the planets would take and W8ED.
Finally, at what would be half-day for the Session, a Planet appeared.
You weren't sure what to make of it, other than that there was a house there.
A familiar house.
You zipped down to the planet, and down even closer to the House.
You inspected the entry conditions, and stared in horror.
The Mailbox that John had searched through on the day that he would enter was gone.
In it's place was a charred crater, with a trail of blood going up from it to the house...
You glanced over to the north most facing wall- the end of the trail- A Refrigerator had been thrown through it, from the inside.
Your feet touched dirt and you peered inside.
You saw John's father, kneeling over this form on the couch that this blood trail lead to.
You saw immediately that it was NOT John, however.
It was the girl from before.
And her right arm had been completely blown up into a bloody stump-- Your left arm flared up with ghost pain-- and her right eye was a bloody mess-- Your Seven lens eye twitched in a faint memory.
John's father wheeled around, his water logged eyes looking at you in confusion and horror, his hands reaching for a fire poker lying on the ground with a speed you didn't know he had.
You held up your hands in a non-threatening manner, but it wasn't your own action that stopped him from attacking you.
No, it was the ghostly blue arm that touched the man's shoulder.
You looked up and met the Sprite's eyes.
"J..John?" You asked. Damn it. Tavros's Stuttering must be contagious.
The Sprite raised a severed eyebrow. "Do I know you?"
"Oh Gog..." You groaned slightly. "Not again.."
"You're a God Tiered Player." The Sprite said. "How did you get here?"
"I..." You sighed lightly, with a small chuckle. "I'm a wayward soul." You glanced over to the girl. "I'm here to help."
"How?" The JohnSprite asked the question burning in the Father's eyes.
You fiddle with you sylladex for a moment, before pulling out your old robo-arm. "I was like her once." And then you narrow your eyes in determination long since lost to you. "Where's the Alchemiter?"
You are Vriska Serket, and Troll Jegus help you, you are going to be a Hero Today.
researcherWisemon - Y0U SP3/\K W1TH C/\PS /\ND NUMB3RS WH3N G/\M31NG and normally when not.
Wow it feels like forever since I've done an update fic!
The first time you see her, she wants a confiscated package. She's nervous and trembling, unsure of herself but determined to do her job. You give her a Regisword and tell her what to do.
You never expected her to take you seriously.
The second time you see her, you've already attained the Queen's ring and the King's crown. She gives you the crowns of her monarchs, angry and determined. You've never seen anything quite so beautiful, and hand over the package she wants with no regrets, despite its contents being an asset to your cause. It's a gift, to make her happy.
The third time you see her, you have all the power of the universe at your command. Her friends are in the way, blocking you from what you need to do. You regret that she'll die, because time has only sharpened and honed her determination. You spare her the indignity of a painful death - she will have the mercy of her entire universe coming to an abrupt end without the humiliation of being stabbed through the heart.
The fourth time you see her, she is your equal. She stands with the body of one of her friends, bearing a ring identical to your own. Her gleaming white carapace is beautiful, and the resolve in her black eyes is fascinating. You wish you knew the kind of passion she felt, and you're sharply aware that you are the cause of that passion.
You hope that she can be the cause of that kind of passion in you.
@linkhyrule5: You want more? You've got it! :smooth:
Also, R~~~Lalond chatlog included. All typos were accomplished by not looking where my fingers were going and typing much faster than I usually do.
Vriska: Strike Up Casual Conversation
You continue being Vriska Serket.
You H8 The placements of the Alchimeter parts. Totem Lathe in the Bedroom, Cruxtruder on the balcony, Alchemeter itself in the Kitchen.
At least they were put in a semi-dec8nt order.
You took the code for your Robo-Arm, and combined it with the code for a Mirror, making a Left Robo-Arm the Right Robo-Arm instead.
Of course, you grim8ced, it was built for the you A Sweep and a Half ago, not the Present you, nor the girl (Jane Crocker, that Sprite said her name was) who appeared to be just as old as you were now.
You're no Mechanic, so it'll have to do, (for now).
You try your 8EST to remember how Zahhak attached it, but damn, two full sweeps plus a lot of pain isn't exactly the best Mem8ry enhancer.
You don't have time to worry about faulty connections right now, though. This girl's going to die of blood loss if you don't do something and F8ST.
You attach the arm.
It seems that Zahhak was a better mechanic th8n you thought. The Arm began auto-adjusting its length to fit once you hooked the torn wires into the shoulder's nerve endings.
You took to patching up the girl's eye with some spare bandages next, and once that was over...
You turned to the FAK8Y FAK8 John Sprite and demanded to know what the hell was going on.
He shrugged, having no real clue at all.
You f8cep8lmed, with both hands. Stupid Fak8y John Sprite that wasn't John yet somehow managed to be him at the exact same time.
John...JANE'S father explained that this girl was an heiress to the MULTI GLOBAL EMPIRE of BETTY CROCKER, and that M8NY attempts on her LIFE had been T8KEN in RECENT D8YS, with the most recent nearly killing her before entry.
Jane had managed to remain conscious for long enough to convince her dad to enter the game via PIR8ED FILES sent via Jane's SERVER PLAYER (A Girl of your own heart, this one). Then you showed up and 8LUH 8LUH, HU8E REC8P.
She looks like she'll pull through. After all, you had gone for a lot longer before you'd gotten patched up. (You'd written some kind of CODE on your wall in dried 8LOOD, according to your Server Player. But you never personally saw it until after you had RIS8N TO THE GOD TIERS.) With that said, you ask for permission to use JANE'S computer.
Her Father allows it, only so long as you tell her Server Player that Jane's alright.
He continues crying, but this time in relief. His daughter will live.
Another Disaster adverted, thanks to you.
Oh Gog. You didn't have time to appreciate it before what with 8LL TH8 RUSHING. But before you rests a Honest to Skaia COMPUTER. How long has it been since you've actually used one? How long has it B88N????????
You bask in the glow of the screen for a few moments, savoring the sound of the desktop's fans whirring away and the random clicks and beeps that come from within it's shiny, shiny surface.
8nough Playing around.
You move the mouse and bring it out of the screen saver.
Hmm. Looks like there are two Chat programs running at the moment. Some J8K8 called "BettyBother" and another one called "PesterChum." It seems the two programs tie into the same account. You're not v8ry surprised, Pesterchum and Trollian were compatible across UNIVERSES.
It looks like someone sent a message recently.
You open it via PesterChum, that BettyBother doesn't look like something that should be touched.
--tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at ??:??--
TG: if you pull thorgu
TG: and youre able to read this
TG: i just wnt you to know
TG: whos the fariy
TG: i need a drink...
--tipsyGnostalgic [TG] has become an Idle Chum!--
TG: hey fari grl
GG: You're Jane's server player, right?
TG: hlls yes.
GG: That's a lot of typos you've got there.
TG: im drnk, wh'd ya espect
TG: hows janey mss dctor lady
GG: She'll live.
GG: Honestly, I'm glad I salvaged my Robo-arm from my old body.
GG: I'm surprised it survived the explosion, actually.
TG: youre a troll.
GG: H8w d8d you kn8w th8t????????
GG: Oh G8g.
GG: Pleeeeeeeease don't t8ll me this is 8nother Re8ch 8round session.......
TG: whyst a reachearnund
GG: I'm just l8tting you know she's going to 8e 8K, and should w8ke up soon. ::::)
TG: yu shuld read some of janeys backlogs.
TG: miss trloo.
GG: Are you high on Sopor or something?
GG: I may be a Thi8f, But I'm not sne8ky sne8k Thi8f! >::::[
TG: present tencde
TG: dont you troles know bettre
TG: spor doest exist in this univrse.
TG: i gotts get in nxety
TG: servers bein all late an ever70g==
TG: daaaamn im wasted
TG: oh mr striiiidur
GG: No No No No No No No!
GG: You've got to do it like this:
GG: With eights of 8v8rything!
TG: dule noted.
TG: wlkp miss fairy troll.
TG: iv gotta fly
TG: flighty brads and all
TG: enjoys neaking thrug janeyds files
--tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at ??:??--
You stare at the garish pink text for a few moments.
She reminds you too much of Dave, except drunk. And female.
It suddenly dawns upon you that you aren't JUST in another random "Copy" Session with seemingly random things changed.
You think you might have stumbled into the Scratched Session completely by accident.
I think I might continue this further, once we get more info on the Scratched Session, like what the Lands are and all that.
researcherWisemon - Y0U SP3/\K W1TH C/\PS /\ND NUMB3RS WH3N G/\M31NG and normally when not.
Something A Little Special
How to be a Gentleman and Survive on Alternia
>Be Karkat Vantas
You are now KARKAT VANTAS.
And, really, you're quite confused. You don't mean to be RUDE, but good heavens this author is very unclear on ETIQUETTE. Your lusus taught you very well, but you can't ever not read enough about being POLITE. But this book isn't very well written, as much as you'd rather not say that. You think you'll put it away for now. Forever. You'll probably never touch that book again. You should apologize to it.
>Apologize to the book
KARKAT: 1'M V3RY SORRY BOOK.
Yes, well, moving on. Your room is neatly outfitted with posters of your idol, TROLL SEAN CONNERY. The guy is really a gentleman. You don't know how anyone is even that SUAVE. It's ridiculous, you might venture. He is also a daring spy. At least, in the movies he is. But you can learn a lot from TROLL JAMES BOND, too. The spy's use of clever gadgetry was the inspiration behind your DASHING CANE SWORD, which is held by a suit of armor in the corner of room.
You have a large bookcase filled with dusty books of ETIQUETTE. Each one is about a different subject, that all equal to you being a TRUE GENTLEMAN, a title any troll could hope to attain. Also, given its own wall to hang up on, is a TEAL TUXEDO, which you have never felt DASHING enough to wear. It was made by your good friend, TEREZI PYROPE. She's really quite good at things like this.
You often think about your friend's talents. They all have one, it seems, but YOU. This worries you. For instance, EQUIUS is good at SHARPSHOOTING with guns that you assume aren't meant to be used for such a thing. ARADIA is a talented SCULPTOR, TEREZI can DRAW and SEW extremely well. But you? You know which fork is used to eat salad, you have a sword hidden in a cane that you never use, and you say THANK YOU.
It just bothers you, kinda, is what you're trying to say.
gentlemanlyConfidant [GC] began trolling condescendinglyAwesome [CA]
GC: UH, H3LLO, VR1SK4. 4R3 YOU TH3R3? 1 N33D SOM3 4SS1ST4NC3, 1F YOU'LL PL34S3.
CA: Omgwtf KArkAt!!!
CA: I'm kindA in the middle of something!!
GC: OH, 1 4POLOG1Z3, VR1SK4. 1S 1T SOMETH1NG YOU N33D H3LP W1TH?
CA: Hmm, yeAh I guecc I do need help with this.
CA: ...actuAlly okAy it cAn wAit. I guecc. Um. Did you wAnt A feelingc jAm?
CA: Is thAt whAt thic ic?
GC: 3RR, W3LL, Y3S, TH4T 1S WH4T 1 H4D HOP3D TO H4V3 W1TH TH1S CONV3RS4T1ON. BUT, 1F YOU DO N33D H3LP, 1 C4N G1V3 1T F1RST. 1 MUST 4DM1T MY PROBL3M 1S K1ND OF 4 S3LF1SH TH1NG TO WH1N3 4BOUT.
CA: Geeeeeeze, KArkAt!! You Are just too nice of A guy!
CA: But my problemc cAn wAit for now.
CA: Co, whAt'c up?
GC: W3LL. YOU S33, 4LL OF OUR FR13NDS H4V3 STRONG, V3RY D3F1N3D T4L3NTS. YOU, FOR 1NST4NC3, 4LW4YS S33M TO F1ND TH1NGS 4 B1T B3FOR3 TH3Y SUDD3NLY B3COM3 TR3NDY. YOU 4R3 4LSO V3RY CR34T1V3, 1F 1 R3M3MB3R. 1, HOW3V3R, DO NOT H4V3 4 T4L3NT.
CA: OkAy, firct of All, you don't reAlly need to type everything out in one huge block.
CA: This is A CHaT CLIENT, KArkAt.
CA: Cecondly, thAnk you for the compliment. I 4m pretty creAtive!
GC: UH, VR1SK4, 1F YOU DON'T M1ND M3 4SK1NG, WHY DO YOU SOM3T1M3S L4PS3 1NTO MY QU1RK WH3N W3 SP34K?
GC: 1F 1 M4Y 4SK.
CA: It juct hAppenc.
CA: It'c not my fAult.
GC: 1'M SORRY.
CA: You don't need to Apologize!!
GC: R1GHT, SORRY.
GC: 1'M NOT SORRY?
CA: There you go!! Now you're getting it. ;)
CA: Now, uh, About you're probl3m.
CA: I don't reAlly know whAt to do About it.
CA: I meAn, usuAlly I'm not the one solving problems, so it's not something I generAlly hAve to do.
GC: W3LL, NO, VR1SK4, YOU 4R3 GOOD 4T PROBL3M SOLV1NG.
GC: S33, 1N YOUR FL4RP G4M3, YOU H4D TO SOLV3 PROBL3MS TO W1N.
GC: 1N YOUR CURR3NT G4M3 OF OBS3SS1ON, YOU MUST 4LSO DO TH3 S4M3 TH1NG.
GC: YOU'R3 QU1T3 4D3PT 4T 1T.
CA: Huh. I never thought of it like th4t!
CA: ThAnkc KArkAt!! Co, AnywAy, lemme th1nk About it.
GC: 4LR1GHT, 1'LL W41T.
Alright, you'll wait.
Just twiddle your thumbs, and wait.
CA: alright I got it! KArkAt, pAy Attention!!
GC: 1 4M.
CA: Co, licten up. You, my deAr moirAil, Are extremely good At being A gentlemAn!
GC: 1'M QU1T3 SORRY, VR1SK4, BUT 1'M NOT 3X4CTLY C3RT41N TH4T B31NG 4 G3NTL3M4N 1S 4 T4L3NT.
CA: Ceech! alwAyc with the Apologizing!
CA: anywAy, KArkAt, for A troll, being A gentlemAn ic pretty much A ckill.
GC: 1 D1DN'T QU1T3 TH1NK OF 1T L1K3 TH4T.
CA: Well, duh, of cource you didn't! You're too nice to do thAt.
CA: anywAy, KArkAt, I need to go! I ctill hAve come ctuff to work out.
CA: and no.
CA: I don't need your help, KArkAt.
CA: ;D <>
GC: 4LR1GHT, TH3N. TH4NK YOU V3RY MUCH, VR1SK4.
Vriska occasionally lapping into Karkat's quirk really hit me as being ridiculously sweet.
Oh look, I wrote a normal fic and not just a pesterlog. It's about the Handmaid. One of my longer fics, actually. Just kinda got away from me.
The First Mission
The woman appeared in the dark forest with a multicolored flash. As if to signal her arrival, the trees ceased their rustling in the wind. She shuddered and put her arms around herself, wishing her dress could have covered her arms as well. But she couldn’t think of her own discomfort. This was her first mission under her true master, after all. She began her search for the cave her master had described to her. A cloud of visible breath, however, caught her attention not long after she began her search. She cautiously walked towards the source of it. The cloud disappeared as she heard a faint gasp from behind a tree. She pulled the chopsticks out her hair and continued her approach.
This is not apprehension you feel, she told herself.
A troll stepped out from behind the tree. She looked over the primitive being. First, the Handmaid noted that she—yes, it was a she—had facial fins. A seadweller. Her horns curved inwards. Her body was barely covered by what seemed to be part of the pelt of a mammoth. Her hair was ragged and long, and her body seemed to be coated in dirt. She held in her hand some sort of spear, though it was obvious she had neither intent nor skill to wield it against the Handmaid. But in her eyes was an open curiosity to the newcomer in her land.
She pushed away the platonic pity she felt for this poor troll who had no idea what was coming.
The primitive crept closer to her. Seeing she was no threat, she stored the chopsticks and allowed the curious troll to get closer. Slowly, she extended one dirty finger and led it slowly closer to her. The finger trembled, as if it approached a god. As soon as it made the faintest contact with the dark grey skin, she jumped back. The Handmaid stood still as she approached again, less slowly this time, and touched her again. This time she did not jump back, but rather continued her touch-based inquisition. Still, the Handmaid stood still, and allowed the woman to satisfy her curiosity.
It was the least she could do.
Finally, the woman seemed sated. She began gesturing to herself frantically. The Handmaid only gave a puzzled look in response, before the woman stopped gesturing and said, “Vawlet.” Then her gestures began again, though this time, she pointed at the newcomer. The Handmaid smiled and said, “Reidas.” This was not her true name, and she knew it fully, but it would be crucial in the plot her master had created. After receiving the response, the woman made a happy grunt and ran off, motioning to her new guest to follow. She obliged, and was led through the moonlit forest. The woman knew the land intimately, and was able to leap and twist through brushes that her visitor continuously got caught and tangled up in. She always stared in amazement when the Handmaid tried to get out, before taking the simple way and teleporting out of the brambles. She noted her guide’s fascination with the multiple colors of her powers and decided to entertain her by flashing colors from her chopsticks. Her little magic act was rewarded by gales of laughter from the primitive woman, and she could not help but smile.
It would be a nice prelude, she thought, before her mission truly began.
Eventually, the woman led her to a cave. A small group of trolls, no more than twenty, was gathered inside. Most of them rose at her entrance, but turned to look at the guest. The Handmaid only nodded at the other trolls. The woman motioned to the entire group, then pointed at her and said, “Reid.” The group stayed silent. However, one troll stood and stepped over to her. This one was a male, lacking fins, with a fairly normal set of horns. He stopped just in front of her, then placed his hand over his chest and said, “Jeykko.” She smiled at this, for it told her she was truly in the right place. She had already known his name, as well as her guide’s.
She had gone over them so many times, for she would be the one to ruin them.
After Jeykko introduced himself, the rest of the trolls returned to what they were doing. Jeykko and Vawlet took the new troll aside to a corner of the cave. The remains of a cholerbear lay by the dying embers of a fire. Jeykko knelt down and cut a small chunk of meat out of it and offered it to her. She smiled and accepted it.
Another temporary reprieve.
Yet another troll walked up to the three, but did not look at Reidas. In fact, he seemed to be trying to avoid her. He leaned close to Vawlet and whispered something into her ear. She immediately stood up and gave nods to both her guest and Jeykko. She took the other troll’s hand and ran out of the cave without another word. Reidas watched Jeykko’s head drop as she left the cave.
Pieces of the plan began to fall into place in her mind.
It was late at night when the two returned from their expedition. The sun was beginning to shine on the highest branches of trees and most of the trolls had already fallen asleep on the rocky floor. Jeykko had lain down on the floor, though Reidas noticed he still kept his eyes on the mouth of the cave. Before the two entered the cave, the man took Vawlet by the arm and pulled her in for a kiss under the early sun. He ran off into the forest, to his own tribe, Reidas assumed. Again, she noticed Jeykko’s head drop. Vawlet went into the cave and laid down without a word. Jeykko clutched a rock in his hand. When he dropped it, Reidas saw small cuts on his hand and specks of yellow on the stone.
Now, all the plan needed was a push.
It was early dusk when the trolls began rising. Reidas only pretended to sleep; she had spent the entire day working out her plan in her mind. Vawlet had risen the earliest, though Jeykko was soon after her. The two left the cave together and returned about a half hour later carrying another cholerbear between them. They started a fire as the first of the others began waking up and handed out pieces of meat to those who rose, Reidas included. She noted the proficiency with which Jeykko could cut pieces off the animal with a simple sharpened rock.
How she wished to tell him what that rock would be doing so soon.
The night passed uneventfully. This time, Reidas noticed the same troll from before enter the cave. She quickly turned to Jeykko and noticed he was again clutching the sharp rock. She took him by the arm and directed him outside the cave. He looked puzzled as he was taken and still did when the two stopped out of sight of the other trolls. He started, “Reid?”, but she cut him off by putting her finger to his lips. She pointed behind him, and as he followed her finger to the troll who had come into the cave earlier, he began shaking with anger. She turned him around again and pointed at his clenched hand. He quizzically turned over his hand palm-up and opened it to reveal the rock.
She swallowed, to try to get rid of the lump in her throat.
Reidas nodded when he revealed the rock and took it out of his hands. She pointed again at the other troll and mimed bringing the rock down. He looked at her, puzzled yet again, only to watch her repeat the motion. He watched her repeat it a few times, before glancing back at the other troll. Then he suddenly stopped Reidas’ motions by grabbing her wrist and taking back his rock. Slowly, he pointed at the troll and repeated her gesture.
She slowly nodded, almost choking on the lump she felt.
Jeykko stared at her. He looked down at the rock in his hand, then again at the troll, who was now embracing Vawlet. He turned away from the cave, closing his eyes. Then he looked up at Reidas again, with a feeling she could not place in his eyes. He nodded. So did she. The two returned to the cave without looking at each other. She went to Vawlet, taking her aside, deeper into the cave. Looking over her shoulder, she say Jeykko take the other troll outside, then away from view of the cave mouth.
She prayed she could keep her tears in.
Her prayers went unanswered as Vawlet wiped away the maroon tears glittering ruby in the fire light. Looking concerned, the cave-troll asked her, “Reid?” She brushed the hand aside, forcing a smile. She had to smile wider when Vawlet grinned back, though her heart sank to new depths.
And when the scream came from outside the cave, she felt it was her own cry that was cut short.
Immediately, Vawlet and Reidas sprinted to the source of the scream. They ran past the location where she and Jeykko had just plotted and up a hillside. When they crested the hill’s peak, Vawlet shrieked. Beneath them stood Jeykko, still bashing in his rival’s head even after it had already been mangled beyond recognition. It was only at Vawlet’s shriek that he looked up at the two, with a frenzied look in his eyes.
She just closed her eyes as she raised her chopsticks and blasted a hole through his chest.
The second scream reverberated through her ears as she teleported away. She was supposed to return to her master as soon as the mission was complete, but instead she had only transported herself out of sight in the forest. She watched Vawlet make her way to the two corpses and collapse sobbing. She watched as she lay there for hours. She watched as the sun began to rise, and she watched as Vawlet rose, unsteadily, as if she was in control of her limbs for the first time. She watched the girl pick up the blood-spattered rock. And she watched her return to the cave.
She did not listen to the screams that emanated from the cave soon after, for she had already left.
She was told that it was a mission well done. English himself congratulated her on awakening the killer instinct in trolldom. He did not make it obvious he had noticed her display of emotions at all. It was just the first of many missions to come.
Not much later, the Handmaid sat alone in her master’s mansion. Still, the images from her mission haunted her. Still, she hid all emotion. But she glanced down at the chopsticks in her hands. Maybe, just maybe, her mission had actually failed? Maybe the spark of violence, of betrayal, had caught, but maybe it had been swiftly extinguished. She had to know.
She arrived in the same forest she did previously. The leaves of the trees had all fallen off in this season, and it was colder still. She saw no trolls this time, no tell-tale clouds of breath. Still, she made her way through the frost-covered trunks and bare branches to the same cave she was a guest in, what felt so long ago.
And immediately, she felt the wrongness in the air. The feeling permeated the air, sank into the ground, made its way through the trunks of the trees. And then the stench hit her. The stench of decomposing bodies. She stopped, for a second. She could go back. She didn’t have to see her handiwork. But she continued onwards. She had to.
The cave was unoccupied. Unoccupied by living beings, that is. Inside the cave lay the bodies of at least five trolls. They were all already decomposing, and maggots crawled over one’s body. Another seemed to have already been set upon by scavengers, as it had been bitten down to the bone. And a third, the largest corpse, was missing its head. She turned away, not willing to face the other corpses. As she did, she noticed a trail of brown blood leading out of the cave. Stomach turning, she began to follow it.
It led to a cliff edge. But even before she saw what was on it, she knew. Again, her stomach fell as she neared the savage troll who sat on it.
The troll who turned around looked so different from the troll who the Handmaid had seen less than a perigree ago. The missing head of the troll inside the cave had been skinned, and its skull, holes broken in to fit her horns, decorated her head. A necklace of teeth hung around her neck. She no longer wore her fur pelt, allowing the Handmaid to see the streaks of red, brown, and yellow blood on her body.
Even her voice sounded different, and when she growled, “Reidas,” it was much more guttural than she remembered. There was a sharp undercurrent in her tone when she repeated the name. She stood, showing that she had not grown much, even though more than five sweeps had passed for her. But while she did stand, it was with a new air. She stood straight, poised, and calm. Again, she said, “Reid.” The Handmaid attempted to take a step closer, but Vawlet did not respond at all. She only stared at her coldly, with the appearance of a predator waiting to strike.
Vawlet suddenly pointed at a smear of red blood on her thigh. “Reid,” she said. Then she held out her arm and pointed at a spot of yellow. “Jeykko.” Then, she revealed a rock, coated in enough blood that the surface of it could not be seen. Without flinching, she cut open a wound on her stomach, and as the violet blood began seeping out, she said, “Vawlet.” She brought up the rock above her head. “Vawlet,” she brought it down, “Jeykko, Reid.”
And it was then the Handmaid noticed the others, cowering in fear behind trees. Some of them bore scarred wounds, revealing green, yellow, and blue. All of their gazes fell only upon Vawlet. It was then she realized the true impact of her mission. And as she teleported back to the mansion, she did not hear Vawlet’s scream when she tried to bring down the rock on her. She only heard her own sobs over what she had done to her own race.
As you can see, I attempted to limit dialogue this time around. I think I did fairly well for it. Things I kept on beating myself up over: pronouns. With Handmaid and Vawlet interacting so much, I'm worried "she" becomes unclear at times. Of course, the second thing I beat myself up over was the names. Reidas for Red? Jeykko for Yellow? Vawlet for Violet? C'mon, myth, seriously?
Last edited by mythmonster2; 12-14-2011 at 09:10 PM.
Your continuing to be Vriska Serket didn't stop being a thing.
As of right now, you sit on the edge of a balcony, a8sentmindedly stealing the luck of any ROBO-BUNNY- or MUTANT-CAT-IMPS that are trying to invade while you SURF THE INTER-WE8 with your recently alchemized GRUBTOP HEAD 8AND for sheer lack of NOTHING TO DOOOOOOOO.
It has been like this for the last hour now.
At some point, another planet entered the Medium, and the house itself began to mysteriously build upwards.
You say "Mysteriously", but, of course, you know exactly what's going on: Jane's server player, Lalond (she refused to tell you her first name for some reason), entered the Medium successfully, and she began building Jane's house upwards.
Speaking of, the Girl had woken up at one point, but only stayed up long enough to give you her thanks and eat a small bit of NON-8ATTERWITCH-8RANDED FOOD STUFFS to replenish her energy before drifting off to sleep again.
Speaking of the Cursed 8ATTERWITCH, you are currently researching her.
You d8n't Like wh8 you found.
Apparently, according to Ur8an Le8end, the 8ATTERWITCH was over TWO-HUNDRED YEARS OLD, and was supposedly an ALIEN W8TCH from 8NOTHER W8RLD.
As if this wasn't enough, artistic renditions of her sent a shiver down your spine. Combined with the fact that the CROCKER CORP. had been RE8RANDED TODAY with a FR8GHTINGLY F8MILI8R LO8O, You are ONE HUNDRED PERC8NT SURE that it is NOT a Coincidence.
That is MOST D8FFIN8LY the EMPERESS OF ALTERNIA.
How the HELL she got onto this Session's Earth, you aren't sure, but one thing's for sure: Jane's ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION was not the result of anyone like...Like... Like that CL8WN.
In any case...Oh.
You are about to be accosted by a stray MUTANT-BUNNY-ORGE.
You nonchalantly lift a hand towards the floppy-eared beast and drain it's luck before it can even blink at your presence.
Without rhyme or reason, the thing is crushed into a pile of grist by a stray copy of the house's attic.
You glance over towards the one open chat window in your display, where Lalond had just typed "whusp" in her drunken manner.
This is exactly why Mothers should not give their house-redecorating children WINE 8ND CHAMP8GN.
Not that it matters. Half of the time you haven't even NEEDED to Drain the Imps or Orges-- Lalond has dropped pieces of the house on them instead.
If you gain access to her computer sometime- anytime- in the future, you are SOOOOOOOO going to rebuild this house to be more structurally sound.
You return to your WE8 8ROWSING.
It looks like that, if this is actually the SCRATCHED SESSION, then the Meteorites containing the Players and Ancestors were swapped. With that subtle change, along with the 8LUH 8LUH HU8E 8ATTERWITCH being in control of everything, seems to be enough to have delayed SBURB by three or so years.
Surprisingly fitting with your own time in exile. You wonder if there was some reason for that?
Other changes that resulted from this are that there was a "Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff the Moive", Written and Directed by one DAVE STRIDER, that some CROCKER-FANS claimed to be 8NTI-8ETTY SL8ND8R that was fueling some sort of "UND8R8ROUND RE8ELLI8N" in the world.
Mr. Strider, of course, denied any sort of claim in his work and stated, defiantly, "look if its there its just for ironic purposes and ironic purposes only" He then gave a trademark "IRONY!" thumbs up with a glint of stars off of his AVIATORS before concluding "im stayin neutral in this food war business understand?"
Apparently Lalond's server player was his brother, "D. Strider."
(8G8IN with the obscured first names. WH8T IS 8T WITH TH8S8 PEOPLE????????)
You wonder what he's like for a few moments. If anything you've seen so far is a standard to go by, a male version of Rose.
Ugh. Digression. Going off of the whole "Food Wars" thing (handily linked in Dave's comments on that one site), it seems that Jade "English" (Why does that name ring a bell?) owned a corporation that had been in direct competition with Crocker Corp.
The name of the company seemed to have been completely erased from the Internet's history records (Scratched, if you will) after the lawsuits ("If one could call them that." You grimace at the phrasing of that ominous sentence) settled, and the only remnants that remained were a few stray clothing-computer wares.
You followed the link that followed from those last three words, revealing a garish green coat with flashing collars and side trims.
(Again, that bell rang distantly.)
Ugh, look at all that grist down there! The imps are practically drowning in the stuff now. Guess you'd better collect it then. You sigh and close the holographic display, standing up for the first time in an hour.
Gog, you sure do miss the weightless-ness of the Furthest Ring and the dream bubbles.
You march downstairs, trying to get some muscle back into those under-used leg muscles, and roll your shoulders a bit. It's been a while since you've actually fought someone hand to hand, and you doubt you'll be able to get by with just stealing their luck forever.
You pass the half-awake-Jane and her Father, giving a small wave as you do so.
Jane tries to give a wave back, but she is currently being aggrieved by a rogue spoon and it's partner, the bowl of CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP.
"You need to eat!" both say with smiles on their shiny, reflective sides. "You're in for a Loooooooong day, Missy!"
Her father simply nods at you, giving silent thanks (again) for your work.
You take a step outside through the door (the nearby wall has been fixed, you notice) and look up.
Skaia is actually being over-shadowed by the sheer height of the house now.
Your luck-stealing antics have most certainly increased the combined GRIST CACHE for this Session immensely.
You smile distantly up at the bright, cheery sky. John's LOWAS sure was gloomy compared to this place.
A Part of you nags to say "WAS" instead of "IS" for some reason. You ignore it for now.
You turn your attention to the GRIST-L8KE before you, and take a step in.
There's a sharp ping as a small area of Grist around you vanishes, and a pain-filled Squeal as the imp you just stepped on explodes into more Grist, immediately vanishing into the Cache.
The few Orges in the area are hesitant to approach. Wise move, you decide.
Wise move for you, that is.
You pull out the FLUORITE OCTET, and set them loose onto the field.
Those SILLY LITTLE OR8ES didn't even need to have their luck stolen.
They just DR8PP8D DEAD.
After a few more dice rolls, you started to fight hand to hand, after you finally found and gra88ed a Fist-Kind Strife Card from an Imp.
The Imps ran for their lives the moment you flew up to an Orge's face and punched it in the snout, Grist-ifying it immediately.
"YEAH!!!!!!!! That's right!" you laughed. (When was the last time you actually LAUGHED?) "Run you COW8RDS! RUUUUUUUUN!!!!!!!!"
Even the Orges left you alone after you S8CK8R P8NCH8D their fifth companion into Grist-Land.
They were keeping their distance now, and while you'd like to pound on monsters all day, it just wasn't in the cards.
You'd managed to carve a nice little perimeter around the house, an invisible line the Orges were afraid to cross.
They wouldn't be bothering this house for a while.
You obviously couldn't collect all this Girst for your own, so you went inside, acquired a large, empty trash bag from the kitchen, and started bagging all of that Grist up for giving to Jane.
The Imps were frowning in dismay as you collected the Grist with the bag and a rake.
You grinned at them, and they ran.
It seemed even they knew when there was a God amongst them.
Your GrubTop-Band beeps as your newly acquired Pesterchum account is Pestered.
--golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering avengingGod [AG] at ??:??--
GT: I hear from lalond that you saved jane from a rather unbecoming death.
GT: For that i want to thank you!
GT: She didnt mention the blue text though! <3
AG: You're a new one.
AG: And it's no problem. I'm just doing my job here.
AG: 8e c8reful h8w you us8 th8 sym8ol!
AG: I D8nt th8nk yo8 kn8w wh8t 8 8ctu8lly me8ns!
GT: Pardon my behavior please!
GT: I seem to have forgotten that there was an interspecies communications thing going on here!
GT: To change the subject do you mind if i ask what kind of job it is that you have?
AG: I M8ddl8.
AG: I'm a M8ddl8r. It's what I've always done.
AG: Usu8lly I stick to Dream Bubbles, though.
GT: Well in any case, you have my thanks for saving jane.
GT: I suppose i should introduce myself.
GT: My name is jake english.
AG: Ah, a first name.
AG: Also, did you say "English"?
AG: As in "Jade English"?
GT: That was my grandmothers name!
GT: How did you know?
AG: I've done my research.
AG: I suppose I should tell you that I knew Jade in another universe.
AG: Well, another timeline, re8lly.
AG: I'm not so sure on the Universe thing.
GT: Hmm thats rather interesting!
GT: Lets compare notes!
GT: Itd be like a movie involving time travel!
AG: Sure. Wh8t8v8r. I'm not really sure if I'd be the best one to talk about her, though.
AG: I barely talked to her as it was, really. Only put her to sleep a few tim8s s8 I c8uld pr8ctic8 my p8w8rs 8n hum8ns...
AG: I'm 8ctually regr8ful of 8 n8w, 8ctually.
AG: Three years of 8lone time tends to give 8ne t88 much t8me to th8nk.
AG: My name's Vriska, by the way. Vriska Serket.
GT: A pleasure to meet you miss serket.
GT: Its funny that you mention the sleep thing.
GT: My grandmother always complains about her sudden sleeping fits in her letters.
GT: Yes! Were penpals across time!
AG: Reeeeeeeeally now?
AG: Tell me more. ::::)
GT: Well i found this device one day...
You watch as he proceeds to explain how he began summoning Pumpkins of all things with growing dread.
And then Terezi's coin drops.
GT: So ive been ferrying the bunny back and forth now for a while now and i finally sent it off a few minutes ago with all these awesome weapons.
GT: Miss serket are you still there?
AG: Ye8h. I'm here.
GT: Is something the matter?
AG: Its just that...
AG: You just gave me the confirmation I hoped you wouldn't.
AG: Your Jade is the same as my Jade.
AG: She had a bunny just like the one you described.
GT: I dont mean to pry but,
GT: May I ask how the bunny turned out?
AG: ........I'm not sure if I should.
GT: Why not?
AG: Th8t bunny caused a LOOOOOOOOT of problems.
AG: And when I say "a LOOOOOOOOT", I mean that it was the root cause of ALL OF OUR PRO8LEMS.
AG: 8LL OF THEEEEEEEM!!!!!!!!
AG: No offense or anything.
AG: It's a very nice bunny and John really appreciated it.
AG: But that bunny fell into the wrong hands to begin with and was THE V8RY RE8SON 8 8v8n needed to 8e cre8ed 8N TH8 F8RST PL8CE!
AG: I needed to get that off of my chest.
GT: Im not sure i know how to deal with that.
AG: Thats exactly how you should feel.
AG: But, I suppose, that's how the dice are rolled.
AG: If you'd known before sending it off, you'd have not done it, am I right?
GT: Quite so!
AG: And if you'd done that, well...
AG: Paradox Space has a way of making sure these things don't happen. ::::(
AG: Sorry. I kinda spaced out there for a moment.
GT: Thats alright there miss serket.
GT: I can see that your past is a touchy issue for you.
GT: But the past is the past and the future is the future.
GT: At the very least i know im going to meet john and jade again in the future.
GT: Soon enough i should hope.
GT: Ive just got to get strider into the game now and instead all im getting is his blasted auto responder again!
GT: What the devilfucking dickens is he up to now?
AG: Can't say I know for sure.
AG: H8ers gonn8 h8, str8d8rs gonn8 str8de.
GT: Hahah! Good one!
AG: You said you were going to meet John?
GT: Yes as soon as i enter or so ive been told.
AG: By who?
AG: Please tell me it isn't some guy who types only in white text. ::::\
GT: No noone like that.
GT: This girl named uranianumbra actually, and she types in grey.
GT: Actually, she was the one twisting my arm to really get the bunny gift off the ground to begin with.
GT: Ill have to have a word with her about all this multidimensional nonsense.
AG: Hmmmmmmmm, I wonder why she'd start this path anyways?
GT: Causal spoilers.
GT: Give me a few moments, i need to find the log.
AG: Take your time. I'm not going anywhere. :::;)
You collect a few more pieces of Grist while you wait.
And by a few, you mean you clear half of the perimeter you set up.
He's really taking a long time here. ::::\
GT: Here we are!
GT: Sorry for the delay, strider finally got back to me on the game.
GT: GT: These are among the dadblasted causal spoilers you refuse to dish out?
GT: UU: somewhat.
GT: UU: it woUldnt hUrt yoU mUch to know the trUth, i imagine.
GT: UU: its jUst the trUth is a wee bit complicated.
AG: Couldn't agree more.
GT: All this temporal nonsense is giving me a headache.
GT: But theres more where this came from.
GT: UU: imagine two Universes, A and B.
GT: UU: now imagine there are two instances of each Universe, A1 and A2 and B1 and B2.
GT: UU: the first instance of each is like a test rUn, that does not qUite sUcceed.
GT: UU: the second instance thoUgh will meet all of its pUrposes!
AG: Oh for the love of Troll Jegus.
AG: I 8M in the scratched session.
AG: I don't need to see the rest of that part.
GT: Okay then, onto your question about meetings.
GT: She insists that i will meet my grandmother in the future, which i assume will be when i enter the game myself.
GT: GT: So you are still in contention that i will meet our elders as youths?
GT: UU: oh yes! ^u^
GT: GT: Ah ha! Then i WILL be traveling through time. I knew it.
GT: GT: Or... they will be. Whichever it is.
GT: GT: Which is it, btw?
GT: UU: caUsal spoilers, sir english!
AG: It isn't time travel.
AG: From what I understood, Jade would be jumping between game sessions, like how Jack did to get into ours.
GT: Whos jack?
GT: I dont think ive come across that name before.
AG: I'll...explain it later.
AG: Jade could probably explain it better, actually.
AG: She was probably the one who sent him through to close off that time loop, even if it wasn't intentionally.
GT: Oh btw,
GT: She gave me this one curious bit of information, and maybe you could help me decipher it?
GT: It could very well be that you two are of the same species, from what lalonds told me.
AG: Sure, go ahead.
GT: UU: so trUe. id pay a hefty ransom to get to know my forebears.
GT: GT: I remember you mentioned your race doesnt really jive with ours familially speaking?
GT: UU: correct. i never knew those who one woUld identify as my parental eqUivalents. U_U
GT: UU: it is in the way my race propagates. oUr ancestors precede Us by millenia.
AG: ........Oh Gog........
GT: Theres also this:
GT: GT: When do i get to learn your name by the way?
GT: UU: hm trUthfUlly?
GT: UU: it may be for the best that yoU never know it
GT: UU: it coUld stir Up some things best left in their present eqUilibriUm.
GT: Got any ideas?
GT: Im concerned about the present equilibrium part.
GT: Could she have meant you, knowing i would copy this log to you?
AG: ........I'm going to have to get back to you on that one, I'm afraid.
AG: I'll give her a pester when I get the chance, however.
AG: Even if she isn't a troll, I've got some choice words to say to this girl. ::::\
--avengingGod [AG] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT] at ??:??--
This...Just kinda wrote itself here. 0_0
Last edited by researcherWisemon; 12-15-2011 at 02:24 PM.
Reason: Spellcheck makes typos worse! >_<;;
researcherWisemon - Y0U SP3/\K W1TH C/\PS /\ND NUMB3RS WH3N G/\M31NG and normally when not.
Eh, who cares! Every HS fanfic turns AU eventually! At least, the ones not written by Doc Scratch.
I suppose you're correct. But they're not fanfiction.
I prefer to think of them as history books, written aforetime.
There have been moments of doldrum with nothing to do throughout the span of Alternian history and I have taken those moments to set world-forging pen to page and write multi-volume collections about the lives of various individuals.
Which I need never read, because I am already aware of the contents.
In that they will already happen as predicted,
And in that I wrote them,
And in that I am fully aware of the contents, literally, at all times.
And of course, they will all be destroyed with the creation of the Green Sun.
In fact, they're mostly just here so that in twenty-six days, three hours, fourteen minutes, Die will come to search one to explain why fiddling with a certain pin gave him pink-blonde hair done up chopsticks-style with two candy canes.
The book he will read is, of course, his own biography, and upon reaching the section involving him reading the book, he will enter a psychotic break where he continues to read aloud about him reading aloud about him reading aloud, to anyone that can hear.
This section of the book ends the exact moment he drops the book and removes his own pin, revealing him to have been a beta Die all along.
This really has nothing to do with the grand scheme of things, but a man needs his hobbies.
In fact, that's a good term for underling management.
Bro's lifestyle gets him into more hot water. Fallout of an averted war between rappers and juggalos. Man, I missed doing this. Hell there may even be follow up. Enjoy!
FSTS 317Sitting on the atrificially chilly concrete floor, Bro feels like he's sunk somewhere around the level of a cockroach. No, more like a centipede or something; cockroaches were at least sturdy motherfuckers. Ass slowly going numb from lack of blood flow, elbows propped on his folded knees, fingers dug into his hair, Bro felt anything but sturdy right now. Physically, spritually, and mentally. And morally. And normally. And whatever the fuck else adverb that kept him from thinking of the little kid sitting in an apartment alone and probably wondering why the fuck his guardian wasn't back yet.
It wasn't his fault, exactly. Exceptions had to be made for routines and promises; sometimes you just couldn't stop things. Like massive traffic accidents. Or horrific acts of nature. Or murders, muggings, or assaults. Or earthquakes. Or the fucking sky falling on top of you.
Or retarded turf wars between rappers and Juggalos, apparently.
He let out a strained, disgusted sigh, trying not to let this fuck with his Zen too much. It was a little harder than normal, considering he was packed in with the group of rappers who had decided that a street war with crazy face-painted motherfuckers was absolutely the thing to do. At the moment, all packed in one big square of concrete, lined that was artistically lined with bars, they were attempting to squeeze themselved through the gaps, intent on continuing their blood feud with the pack of whackjobs across the row.
Fucking ridiculous, he thought, as he got jostled by the knees of one skinny guy who was practically barking with testosterone and rap fueled rage. Bro closed his eyes, shutting himself up against the sight of baggy jeans, colors, and chains.
He was all about live and let live, himself. As long as the skeevy douchecanoes stayed well away from him and his kid, that was. At the moment it didn't sound like he needed to worry about it too much, since the clowns were too busy threatening the sisters of the other guys.
Every once in a while, a uniform would come back and futilely shriek at them to shut the fuck up. He could have been a little yappy dog, for as much effect it had. He could barely be heard against the thunder of voices amplified by the enclosed space. Bro would have appreciated the acoustics a little more if it weren't giving him such a massive headache.
The headache wasn't helped by the swelling goose egg on his scalp. By the time the cops got to the street brawl that looked somwhere between a medieval battle and the most unlikely stage act between the Cirque du Soleil and rappers, they weren't about to sort things out on a case by case basis. It was mostly tackling, head-bashing, and cuffing. Bro, standing off to the side with a few of the guys who had decided not to get involved, was summarily yanked against a cruiser, head bouncing of the frame of the Crown Vic hard enough so that his vision washed out.
Now, sitting here and wishing that everyone would just vanish up their own ass, Strider was close to a mass murder just so that he could get the fuck home.
He didn't know how long it had been before a guy with the voice of a fog horn came in and bellowed out a few names, drawing glances from their owners. Strider was torn between relief and trepidation when he heard his name droned out, unsurprised to note that all of the names were the same guys who hadn't been trying to open up clowns to see if they really were filled with giggles and stupid.
A couple of beefy uniformed guards stood at the entrance of the small cell, while the fog horn blared a request to come to the door, warning the others to push back or they'd get tazed. Or maced. At this point, Bro was certain they would be just as willing to open up both cells doors and let them have at it, finish it up so everyone could go the fuck home.
Bro felt himself being helped up by a few guys who were still busy yelling threats and staring daggers across the way. He was drawn out through the mass of bodies, the fog horn voice belonging to a plain clothes cop who told one of the uniforms to go on up.
Holy shit. Was this a good thing or a bad thing?
Surprisingly, they were never addressed directly. There was a lot of talk about him and the few other guys, over their heads like they were pets or something, cops talking to witnesses, desk clerks talking to cops, cops reciting information from their drivers licenses. They were released into the dry, hot Houston air before Strider had time to figure out whether or not they were being measured for a box, or processed for release.
He turned to the others, their skin washed more pale by the anemic light of the station house. Their eyes glittered as they caught the light, flicking across each other. Soft fistbumps were exchanged, but no words, and they all swept from the concrete path and into the dark. Bro nearly felt like breaking into a retarded canter, caught up with the feeling of freedom.
The normal surge of adrenaline wasn't there, and the exhiliration after having dodged a bullet was curiously absent. For some fucking reason, he felt chilled, like a big empty box left inside a freezer. If felt like if he turned around, he'd catch sight of bars again. He rode a few buses, ignoring or dumb to the drunks and crazies, until he dumped himself on the stop nearest their apartment.
The fact he was out didn't really dawn on him until he saw his building.
He stopped on the sidewalk, fucking up the rhythm of a few pedestrians behind him, the walks never empty, even that late at night. For a second, his evening activities welled up under him, a dark bubble in his mind that momentarily eclipsed his sight.
Watching veins in necks stand out, eye bulge, arms flail as a couple dozen guys threatened to do shit to each other that only happened in places like Darfur. Flashes of blue and red, the whoop of a siren. The feel of a hand grabbing on his arm hard enough to make the bones in his forearm shift. His head making a dull impact against gleaming white metal. Bands of light as they slid over limbs and faces in the dark of a van, faces flat and eyes staring. The scrabble of voices, like claws against rock, in the underground holding cells.
The distant blare of a passing car horn brought the pavement back under his feet in a rush. Strider blinked at the sheen of windows extending above his head. If he craned his neck, he could spot his window. Both were dark. He drew in a breath of night air, too hot to be refreshing. He plowed into the lobby, straight arming the door open.
He rode the elevators up, wondering why he didn't text Dave when he'd been released. He'd been freaked enough in the car, the cell, trying to catch a few cops to ask if he could make a call to his kid, always waved off, or ignored, or yelled at to shut up. After half a dozen attempts, he'd given up, slumped on his ass in the cell, with the guys bellowing above him.
His keys rattled into the lock, and he let himself in, smelling and sensing Dave rather than seeing him. That feeling of relief finally washed over him. He swallowed something hard, caught deep in his throat. He shut and locked the door behind him, seeing the dim glow of the TV wash everything in anemic hues. For a second, he leaned his head against the door, for a second feeling as though he'd dodged a bullet.
He clenched his jaws against something that gripped his chest, tightening his arms and neck. He pressed his lips against his teeth, pushing down the freak out that he'd successfully averted until now.
The apartment was quiet, the only sound the TV on low, and the hum of the refridgerator. Strider crossed the room, feeling twice as old as the number on his license, and peered over the back of the futon.
Dave was slumped against the long crease of the back, legs still on the floor, but his upper body lax. His ribs rose and fell deeply and evenly. That strange pain gripped at his chest again, and he let a hand stray out, fingertips stirring the hair that plagued the kid's forehead. He hadn't showered, but he still felt soft to Bro.
"I'm sorry, kid." He heard a voice, close to him in the dark, and realized it was himself. It was too harsh and strained a whisper to be himself. He swallowed again, but didn't take his fingers away from the light contact they had on his brother's forehead.
He stood there for a little while, in the half dark, watching his kid sleep, looking loose and relaxed. For some reason, the light washing across his arm reminded him of the light in the van, on the way to the station.
Strider lowered his head, and let out a long breath. It had the whistling quality of the trail of a bullet that hadn't quite hit him, and he let himself be glad of that, just for a second.
Strider brothers fics (many thanks go to egregiousBass for compiling them):
Musical Interlude- Dave tries to ironically score in the ongoing fight to one-up his brother. By joining the school chorus.