<GenTrigger_> So like, I just heard from someone that the avengers was bad because it had multiple climaxes?
<Tam_Lin> Girls have multiple climaxes and they aren't half bad.
<GenTrigger_> But that's not true, I'd say it actually sort of follows the whole monomyth format- Tam time out now.
Hit it right on the head, Tam Lin. Everyone except Karkat.
Originally Posted by HarMegidon
I just am asking why she is selling sausages at a funeral.
Originally Posted by inexpediency
Everyone is a hedgehog...on the inside.
Originally Posted by Tesseract
On a deadness scale of normal to doorknob I would rate her as double doorknob
Originally Posted by Jitka
fuck yeah sodium hexametaphosphate
that is my favorite hexametaphosphate
Malakin:because its actually the truman show just with ponys
crash826:that
crash826:makes
crash826:far too much sense
gingerale:xD
Malakin:think about it
Malakin:it all makes sense
Originally Posted by Catbread
Those sound like some pretty badass park rangers.
Originally Posted by ranasan
Wow... it's like if someone managed to manifest Missingno. from Pokemon Red and Blue into the real world, grind it up into a fine powder and then snort it.
18:21 Girard so I learned something at the barber:
18:22 Daniel ?
18:22 Girard The entirety of England, London in particular, is actually a stage for the biggest production of the musical Oliver ever made.
18:22 Girard England is a giant musical.
18:22 Girard This explains the small children with cockney accents and giant hats who dance in the streets.
18:23 Daniel ...DAMN YOU MARY POPPINS!
18:23 Daniel DAMN YOU TO HELL!
<GenTrigger_> So like, I just heard from someone that the avengers was bad because it had multiple climaxes?
<Tam_Lin> Girls have multiple climaxes and they aren't half bad.
<GenTrigger_> But that's not true, I'd say it actually sort of follows the whole monomyth format- Tam time out now.
I just finished reading Strider's Edge and it broke my poor little heart, a process I enjoyed far too much. Being as well versed and immersed in Homestuck 'fic as you all are, does anyone have recommendations for similar works? :P
Hello folks. Two weeks from posting my first ever finished writing, I have the itch for more, but I've run into an old problem. I can't decide what to do next. Since this is where the fanfic-ers gather, I thought I'd ask and see if anyone has any suggestions, so I try to commit to one thing and write it (and hope my backlog of Steam Sales doesn't totally dominate my time).
First idea: Rose
My one writing so far seemed pretty good to me (see sig), so the obvious thing to do is derivative my ass off and do the same thing. This time: What's Rose thinking as she's watching that bomb count down? Her world is gone, her mother is gone, she was saved from madness by being killed, she's left behind the friend who revived her to certain doom, everyone she ever turned to for advice turned out to be completely wrong, and her new-found brother is looking at her for answers she doesn't have as they're both about to be annihilated. Quite a trying day for a thirteen year old girl.
Second idea: Jade
Dellaluce knocked it out of the park back when with "Stitching Up the Circuitboards", but I feel like the fics about what Jade was like before the game began don't really do justice to how bizarre her life was. She lived with only a magic dog for company, uncontrollably dropping in and out of two absolutely real worlds, both of which sound like total lunacy to anyone on Earth. Her only window to the world is the Internet, and there's a bunch of jerks pestering her all the time who can accurately claim to see inside her house. Jade searches the Internet her whole life, trying to find answers to these mysteries, and comes off as completely unhinged, except maybe to the handful of people she's seen in her dreams. After a life like that with no frame of reference, she's probably a little unhinged anyway (see: arguing with dead grandparent), and certainly confused.
Not as coherent yet, but I've got a bunch of ideas I can weave into a narrative, mostly around Jade's totally baffled conversations with the Trolls throughout her life.
Third idea: Karkat
If it isn't obvious yet, I find the best places to look for ideas are in the untold stories implied by the comic but never examined. In this case, a series of at least eleven parts, featuring Karkat interacting with his dubious team over three weeks of Sgurb, before anybody heard of humans or demons or scratches.
Not the most original idea, I know, but there's a lot I've never seen covered in fics. Namely, the original Alterniabound flash quietly revealed that everyone found out about Karkat's "mutant" blood, and at least by the end of the game, nobody cared. So there's that, along with pondering on how a guy like Karkat wound up with his cockamamie bunch of friends, and why the last remnants of the Troll empire would have been some of the first ones culled otherwise. And probably some Jack in there too, because I love whole Stabdad thing.
Fourth idea: Lusiisprites
Similar idea from a different angle. Take all the Spritelog infodumps, especially Nannasprite's pile of revelations about the game and everything else learned over time, and rewrite it through the mouthpiece of eleven monster parents. I was originally going to do this as a throwaway piece to practice with, but it's more involved than I gave it credit for, especially since most of the Lusii were never given anything like a personality, fan-canon be damned.
Of course, that's not even everything I have on my plate, but I want to tackle some of those four first before getting myself too wrapped up in anything even more nebulous or ambitious. This writing thing is proving to be easier and hard than I always though. So if there's any one in particular that sounds interesting, do speak up, because I'm desperate to try my brain down to one idea.
Which is already a lie, because I'm writing something else on the side anyway, a joke-fic I can turn to whenever I can't focus on what I really want to write. So this post isn't just self-indulgent rambling, I give you the first installment of...
ZoneStuck: Such Is Life In The Medium
Okay, let me start by making a few things really fucking clear for whatever iodine-addled thieving degenerate manages to find this journal. If you can keep your brain from boiling inside your skull long enough to string letters together, it just might save the life of somebody more important than you, so you'll have somewhere to go spend the riches you surely still think you'll find here. Yeah I know what you're thinking, there must be the mother of all stashes somewhere on hand where the owner of this PDA hid the rest of the valuables, because if you're reading this, you're days travel from the border of the Zone and have somehow survived countless perils to acquire it. Well, the joke's on you shithead, because I don't plan on leaving anything behind but a record of how I died pointlessly. I'm taking everything worth keeping with me, because I only carried what I needed, not what would sell well. If you manage to find my body, you'll already be dead. And if I don't die, I'm coming back for this fucking PDA anyway, so I better not find an empty box where I left it. Keep that in mind before taking it asshole, if you weren't too greedy to not even turn it on and read any conspicuous messages before absconding to safety with your pocket-sized windfall.
Just look at all this rambling I've had to do to properly admonish you for being foolhardy enough to find and read my last message to the world. Yes, admonishing, because you're probably doomed if you find it, with no one to blame but yourself. Look around you thief, at far you traveled and what warnings you ignored, the risks you subjected yourself and whatever weary fools deserved your terrible friendship, all in the pursuit of a few more fucking dollars at the expense of someone else foolish enough to come here before you. A beautiful cycle of avarice and misplaced confidence that in time will surely destroy the entire world. And if you're scrounging through a trash heap this close to the core for a few more trinkets to pawn, you won't even understand why.
I can return to my original, more pertinent clarifications, now that I've finished clarifying my preemptive hatred for your paltry intellect and more paltry morals. I didn't write this to be famous, or respected, or rewarded, or for the benefit of anyone I've ever known. Not direct benefit anyway, although I'd be fine with anybody who escaped mention in this record dying in an otherworldly cataclysm. Hell, I'm not sure if I even want you or anyone to remember me if you find this, because I could give a flying five-eyed mutant fuck what you or anyone like you think of me. The point is, I wrote this to save the world, and while I prefer that finger-sniffing self-assured pricks like you meet the fate you have coming, if your temporary survival helps spare the life of anyone worth knowing, that's a hit my conscience will just have to take in the grave.
If you're reading this, it means I've failed and the world beyond the Zone, otherwise known as the Real World, is even more boned than I originally thought. Which I suppose is a double-failure on my part, but I've established how little that matters. The point is, if your abundance of gumption and lack of foresight has lead you to this PDA, and you manage to not die of your own definitional malfeasance before returning it to something like civilization, there just might be hope for the world yet.
To find this message will mean you and anyone who's ever cared about you have done everything in your life terribly wrong, so I know this is a lot to ask. But for once, do the right fucking thing, and take this to someone who knows what the hell they're doing. Someone who can stop the Zone or Slick or both and all, while there's still a chance to save anything. And hopefully someone other than the Military, because those blockheaded fucks bear more responsibility than me at this point. So you know, last option if you have to, all I can do is disregard my better judgment and trust yours, because I don't have a choice now.
Contained in this PDA you'll find all the information and evidence we had with us up to the moment of embarking on the last stretch, so for the love of fuck don't just wipe it. I'm not in the business of saving halfwit scavengers any trouble, but it will make everyone's job easier if nobody has to reinvent the wheel after us. I'm not going waste my time and yours detailing our plan, because if I'm not alive to retrieve this, it means we royally failed, and using us for an example would be idiocy of the highest caliber. I know its mighty tempting to try to prove insanity wrong and follow a failed plan, but don't do that, you'll just embarrass and then kill yourself. If Slick is still around, he won't need the help. Instead I'm recording what we did and who we are, so you'll get some idea of how we failed the first time around, and hopefully make a better plan, because the one we might be about to die for is necessarily the best one we could think of.
I'm not going to lie, this writing is as much for my benefit as yours. I'm bored as hell and staring into oblivion while the rest of the team gets some sleep that won't help them anyway. I need something to keep my mind off our upcoming suicide mission, so I figured I'd write about everything that happened to bring me here. The irony is not lost on me, I can hear your ridicule even in death.
So just shut up and read, and you might learn something helpful. About Slick, the Zone, the Core, and maybe even a few interpersonal skills and tips for how not to murder everyone around you in their sleep. God knows we didn't but you're the impartial observer here, so take some fucking notes, and read on if you dare.
Yes, an ill-advised pointless cross-over fic, telling a loose pastiche of Homestuck's plot through the mythos of S.T.A.L.K.E.R., inspired by an old piece of fanart (I thought Pride-Kun, but maybe not). It's writing itself faster than I can type, and I don't give a shit if its good or not.
@Aqizzar: Personally, I'm a fan of the Karkat idea; I love his character a lot, and his interactions are always a ton of fun to read (and as I'm figuring out in the Altblood thread, a ton of fun to write). The idea of writing a bunch of short segments on his interactions with the rest of the trolls sounds like a great read.
My Stories
The Game, and Those Who Play: "A set of stories detailing moments in the lives of those who play the Game, and the destinies they are a part of. Some Players will fulfill their own Destinies. Others will fail. And so the Game goes."
Or: That story where ArcFour tries to achieve the improbable, with various measures of success/failure!
Or: That story that's so big that the chapters can't fit into the signature!
Or: That story that's pretty much jossed about once a week, much to the author's dismay!
Or: That story with the Sylphs. What's up with them? God.
So, before I continue with The Game, and Those Who Play, I was hit with a bit of inspiration regarding Eridan, and Angels.
I've worked on it a bit, and wanted a bit of constructive criticism before I went to the next step (that is, getting art for it for the AO3 version; I've got someone I know who wants to draw some stuff for it)
So, enjoy, all, and let me know what you think!
Where Angels Fear to Tread - Part 1
You were raised by whispers.
Your lusus gave you love, you suppose, but lusii were physical creatures, simple creatures; the most Seahorsedad could give you was a hug and a burble, and protection from what lay in the deepest parts of the ocean.
It was the whispers, truly, that helped you to grow. The whispers taught you about the things that couldn’t be seen in the darkest of skies and the deepest of waters, about the secret things that lay in the minds of the weak and the hearts of the wicked and the souls of the hopeful, and about the fate that came to those vile, cursed trolls, the weak and wicked and hopeful.
It was the whispers that made you decide to never, ever be one of those trolls.
And, over the course of days and months and sweeps, they told you your future; they told you of the great Game you would play, of the Weapon you would wield, and the Destiny you would be given. They tell you that there are names written upon your heart, but they do not tell you what that means.
They tell you of white ozone and lithium light. They tell you of eyes of pitch and colossal wings. They tell you of luminescent skin and bloody hands.
They call you Prince, and you are proud (you are frightened to your bones) to wear that name.
And the day you began to find other trolls to talk to, other children who lived and grew and sometimes died, you learned that none of them, not a single one, knew the whispers.
You found yourself alone, for a very long time, and you began to look down upon them, those weak, wicked, hopeful fools who had never lived under the (proud and uplifting, mocking and cutting) whispers of those who walked behind you, always unseen.
But then you found her.
Feferi knew about those things that whispered. She saw you, you saw her, and from that moment the both of you knew.
You were both guided.
But the first time you met her Lusus (coiling serpents and clashing beaks and carbon-black oil, slick on bone-white skin, and the taste of flowers in the water, rose-blooded and horrific beyond measure), you knew that your whispers were not hers.
Yours were the coppery sound of blood in your ears, the feeling of being watched but seeing nothing there, the guides that sat on your shoulder and taught. Hers were the slick, wet fingers slithering into the mind, the painful, quiet note of the killing sound, the great watcher from above (from deep, deep below) that judged and found wanting.
Hers was one of the whispers of the dark things that lay in the deepest blacks of the ocean and the endless sky.
But even then, she knew what it was to be whispered to, and you felt whole beside her.
And even though your whispers told you, time and time again, that in the end she would fall, would die, they also said her name was written upon your heart, and you knew that when you were around her, your heart beat red.
She might see you as pale, but maybe one day she’d see the red in your eyes and in your words and in your heart, and she’d feel for you as you feel for her.
But the whispers mocked and burned, as they always did.
My Stories
The Game, and Those Who Play: "A set of stories detailing moments in the lives of those who play the Game, and the destinies they are a part of. Some Players will fulfill their own Destinies. Others will fail. And so the Game goes."
Or: That story where ArcFour tries to achieve the improbable, with various measures of success/failure!
Or: That story that's so big that the chapters can't fit into the signature!
Or: That story that's pretty much jossed about once a week, much to the author's dismay!
Or: That story with the Sylphs. What's up with them? God.
Trees and Tentacles- Bro's insomnia leads to inspired art and a little brotherly bonding time.
Undone- Dave tries to see his brother one last time.
Supermarket Shenanigans- in an early installment of the Striders, Bro looses Dave in a store. Cue panic.
My House- Dave butts heads with a lady friend of his brother's.
Binary- Bro's life and death are simple and convoluted affairs.
Climb- a brief look at where Bro is after he rocketboards off the roof.
Key- Bro teaches Dave the key behind being an ironic roof rapping ninja.
Parenthood- What Bro had to go through to make Dave what he is.
Parental Guidance- Parent teacher conferences are never fun for anyone involved.
Of Bathrooms and Beatdowns- The Striders' early morning rituals turn into unpleasant experiences at a party bro dj's at; aka roofies are never okay.
The Two of Us Are Dying- Bro has dreamt of his death sporadically for the past 13 years. Fallout.
Rap Battle!- One of the brothers' many sylladex hashrap battles. Chaos ensues.
If Illness was This One- Bro Strider is sick. Dave is not happy. The pumpkin shows up. [what pumpkin?]
Puppets and Porn- Bro Strider runs a faux/real puppet pr0n website from his home. With a minor in it. Of course someone was going to be totally not cool about it.
Puppet Porn pt II- Child protective services get called. Shit gets real. THE APARTMENT IS CLEAN OMGOMGOMGOMG
Voyeur- Jack Noir watches as Bro dies at his feet.
Surprise!- Dave wakes up on his birthday to the usual Strider shenanigans.
When "Puppets" Go Bad- Dave watches a clip of a video on Bro's computer of what looks to be a puppet trying to kill him in his sleep. Though, that's not quite the case.
And apologies for the double post. Kid guardian inspired character study of Mom Lalonde. Will prolly be followed by others.
Unlike most women her age, with her background, education, and occupation, it never really felt like she was giving anything up when she took in Rose. Then again, unlike most women, she didn't stop any of the activities she had been prone to before. It helped that raising the child in part ensured that she similarly be prepared for the future that awaited them both. It helped that she was already happily prepared for the perils ahead.
Although she had built the system that powered the house long before Rose was born, it was still a testament to her skill in her field. She won a good deal of acclaim reintroducing the land from its original factoral lease into wilderness, even proving that cohabitation with the land was entirely possible, with the right equipment. So, she worked away from the eyes of her child and her peers, to brace herself against armaggeddon.
A pity that it was harder to prove one was accomplished when it simply might paint one in the light of a paranoid conspiracy theorist.
Perhaps bespeaking this notion, her social circle was less inclined to agree with her own estimation of her sacrifices, however. They were fond of cooing over her dedication to her child, and her tenacity in being able to make contributions to her field at all.
Indeed. What morons. She appreciated Rose's delicate, crinkled little nose when some of her old colleagues would pay her award winning home a visit, and remnisce about old times. There was little point in dwelling over what was, when there was so much still to accomplish.
She cleans when she needs to unclutter her mind. She spends a good deal of time thinking and working, in places Rose has never seen, and her work, in conjucntion with the liberal amounts of alcohol she dilutes her endeavors with, has a habit of making her head reel. So she washes and dusts, and tipples a little bit, mostly out of habit than design.
Rose is always exasperated when seeing her mother clean. Good for her; women shouldn't neccesarily fall into socially dictated roles so complacently. But she won't hire a maid, since induldging in society's covert acceptance of capitalistic servitude has always struck her as grotesuqe.
But she does appreciate that Rose, even as young as she is, is incredibly discerning. Although she cannot know the future for sure, she knows her daughter will be alright.
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.
Trees and Tentacles- Bro's insomnia leads to inspired art and a little brotherly bonding time.
Undone- Dave tries to see his brother one last time.
Supermarket Shenanigans- in an early installment of the Striders, Bro looses Dave in a store. Cue panic.
My House- Dave butts heads with a lady friend of his brother's.
Binary- Bro's life and death are simple and convoluted affairs.
Climb- a brief look at where Bro is after he rocketboards off the roof.
Key- Bro teaches Dave the key behind being an ironic roof rapping ninja.
Parenthood- What Bro had to go through to make Dave what he is.
Parental Guidance- Parent teacher conferences are never fun for anyone involved.
Of Bathrooms and Beatdowns- The Striders' early morning rituals turn into unpleasant experiences at a party bro dj's at; aka roofies are never okay.
The Two of Us Are Dying- Bro has dreamt of his death sporadically for the past 13 years. Fallout.
Rap Battle!- One of the brothers' many sylladex hashrap battles. Chaos ensues.
If Illness was This One- Bro Strider is sick. Dave is not happy. The pumpkin shows up. [what pumpkin?]
Puppets and Porn- Bro Strider runs a faux/real puppet pr0n website from his home. With a minor in it. Of course someone was going to be totally not cool about it.
Puppet Porn pt II- Child protective services get called. Shit gets real. THE APARTMENT IS CLEAN OMGOMGOMGOMG
Voyeur- Jack Noir watches as Bro dies at his feet.
Surprise!- Dave wakes up on his birthday to the usual Strider shenanigans.
When "Puppets" Go Bad- Dave watches a clip of a video on Bro's computer of what looks to be a puppet trying to kill him in his sleep. Though, that's not quite the case.
@ArcFour: Not a bad start! Although I personally don't much like fics that provide fanon explanations for canon actions, so I'm not much sure I'll stick around.
> Skaian: Write a new Troll fable based entirely on a throwaway line from early Act 5.
Yes, mysterious voice in my head! I shall do exactly that.
> Skaian: And have it ready for Halloween.
FFFffffffffffffffffffffffff
Actually, it's a fairy tale this time. I've been binging on the Hans Christian Anderson, though it probably won't quite sound the same, because me, and because Trolls.
And it's also… uh… still not done. See, I just went through the worst work weekend, and I am stressed to all hell. It's not the fic's fault, but since it's how I spent my "free time" I can't help but blame it. Now, the last fable I wrote, The Tale of the Bowyer, is currently the second-least read I've ever written, but it only took me one evening. This one's gone on too long. I've decided I can't keep going on this one until I know someone will actually care, and certainly not if people will actively dislike it, which the stress has convinced me is another possibility. I will not bust my typing hands over this just for it to turn into a second Cold Grublings.
So, forums, here's the half I've written, edited up a bit. If you don't want to read it, that's fine, but if you do, tell me if you'd like to see more, or if you don't care for it, because that would be… really valuable to me right now.
Thanks again.
The Tale of the Skull-King
(Partial Draft)
Once upon a time, when the world was grown, and the second Empress sat on her throne after a right and proper succession, there lived a young Troll named Neren. And he was a promising boy, Neren: strong, able, and bright – if too young to be wise – and blessed with Cobalt blood. For as long as he could remember, Neren had lived under the roof of the man Gesp, of the Sapphire, who was a right and just Troll. In his youth, Gesp had worked wood and steel to create great weapons for use in siege, in secret ways that none had ever seen before. In return, he was duly rewarded, with fortune and land, and built a stronghold and hall where he was the Empress' appointed overseer to several masters of the trade. Redbloods were his labourers, his farmers within the walls, and Yellow kept his menial accounts. For the Greens in his care, Gesp hired merchant-masters to broker his services, and to the Blues Gesp taught all he knew. And so all was well, within the walls. Out of the walls was danger, and disorder. The Empire was still stretching out its hand, and Trolls fought Trolls in bands and wars alike. Creatures the size of houses still roamed in packs, monstrous towers of flesh and claw, twenty times over and ten again, and all their ravenous children. There were smaller creatures too, and faster, but they were like screams in a nightmare, as there was worse out there than animals. Quiet things, screaming things: things that walked in the light.
Neren loved the hall. To a young Troll it was a marvellous place of smells and sounds, the like of which a Troll from the city could never imagine! There were Trolls of all sorts in Gesp's employ, Trolls to admire and emulate, and chances to work and plan and hunt and fight, so long as a young Troll keep out from underfoot. And there was more than work and learning from masters. There were open places in the yard within the walls for running, and so many places to hide and climb and jump and fight. The young Trolls had a playground that changed from day to day, born anew with every shipment and every hour of work. One could get lost in the yard alone, which was excellent, as they weren't allowed outside – not until they were old enough.
Neren loved to be on the walls of the hall most of all. When he had first arrived at the hall, he had been a grub in government cages, and his lusus, a pouchbeast, in chains. When Neren had been returned to his lusus had put him straight in its pouch and had jumped up the lumber, clatter, clop, to the top of the compound. There, they had watched the stars fly by, and realized they were safe in their new home. All the Trolls were safe inside the walls, so long as they came when their masters called. Beyond the walls lay clearing and farmland for only a short distance, until a solid wall of forest that spanned in all directions. It was a vast sight. To climb to the top of Gesp's walls and look to the horizon was to see for miles and miles, and all of it trees. There were no settlements, no clear paths, no other Trolls for as far as the eye could see. In the wet seasons, it was like a verdant sea of needles and leaves in the most brilliant shades of green. And if you were patient, and watched closely, one could see soft motion in the trees. The wind would play, and creatures would take to flight, that would glimmer pink or green in the moonlight.
Neren often took his playmates to the walls, though few wanted to stay. When he had been young, he had played with all the other Trolls, but real work soon cleared his head of silly things, and he closed his circle to his two closest friends: Askai with blood like daylight Sky, and Thali of the Hunter. As they grew, their lusii joined the guard in patrols about the hall, but the children continued to conspire on the walls. They were all clever young Trolls, and though they respected their overseer, they all had sights set higher in life than Master Gesp. Askai would make weapons of his own, he said, with no overlord save his Empress in the storming seas to reign over him. Thali would serve the Empress directly, as purchaser from those same merchants that had raised her with an eye for such things. Lofty dreams.
But Neren had his sights set highest of all, for Neren wanted to know the stars. When he was put to honest work, he did extra tasks to earn small wages, which he kept safely away. Whenever an Indigo Troll arrived from the Empress' courts, he would go to them, to beg for knowledge with coin. From them, he learned of the sea trolls, and the Trolls from long ago with blood in dim and shade, and other silly things. Never the stars. One day, when he had all but given up, Neren finally beggared the knowledge of numbers from Thali, and opened the first door to his stars. The numbers soon paid with more than that, for they were something Gesp would not have taught a less ambitious Troll, as a test against culling. Neren passed on the knowledge to Askai as a precaution, and they earned a higher wage with time, though they were still very young. Neren was soon sent to work as an apprentice with the master that built catapults.
One day, when Neren was halfway by his fifth sweep, Thali returned to the hall with her master and his party. She quickly found her friends.
"Come with me!" she said, tugging them by the arms. "I have so much to tell you!" She was so excited she did not even take the roast cluckbeast that was being served by the cooks. Finally, she got her friends away and escaped to the wall. "You won't believe it," she said. "I know you think you will, but you won't. The world is so big outside, and we saw only a part of it. And what is happening there is already too exciting!"
Neren had brought her food in spite of herself. "Well tell us," he said. "Or you'll burst, I think."
Askai quite agreed. "Like a corpse on a hot summer's day."
But Thali could not eat, she had so much to say. She told them all. Her master had brokered a very large deal, she started. They would hear about it soon from Gesp, because it would surely take up all their time to come. If they were lucky, they might even get to go along!
"Along where?" asked Neren, for she was rambling in her enthusiasm.
"To the southeast," she said. "There's war in the forest."
And she told them how she had travelled with her master to the camp of Barr, of the Dark Cyan. He was a warlord of the northern lands, had waged war on Cusp of the Amber, who worked an overseer in the forests and had built high walls unbefitting of his station.
Thali's master had met with Barr to negotiate and sell Gesp's services in the creation of siege weapons. They had spent three days in camp before Barr would see them, and had listened carefully as they spoke to the other merchants. Thali's mistress set meetings with the representatives of a grocer and a clothier and with a maker of carts and Thali heard it all. As apprentice, it was her job to hear every word, and so she was placed to serve food and drink, to provide wet cloths after the meal, and had been taught to suture, if necessary. Thali also learned the prices Barr had asked from the weaponsmiths and the armourers, and her master's other guests, and her master soon arranged a price with Barr that all would find agreeable. It was a very large deal indeed.
Her friends understood. "This Barr will need his weapons assembled within sight of the walls," said Askai, who was apprenticed in the making of siege towers. "If our master go, they will have to bring us with them!"
"And I'll be going as well," said Thali. "My master will have to close the deal. Though I won't be able to stay." And her friend agreed that this was very disappointing. No one should have to lose out on their first chance to see a real battle. "But there's a worry," she told them, in a whisper.
Thali told them how, after the meeting when they were safe in their tent, her master had quizzed her on the entire exchange. She had done well, and he gave her a coin. Then he asked a different question, a strange one. He asked her to think carefully, and to tell him for which item Barr had paid more than they would have expected. It was a hard question, and a trick all at once, so it took Thali some time to ponder. Finally, she gave her answer.
"Can you guess?" she asked them. The boys shook their heads. They knew as little about merchant work as she did about engineering. "I'll tell you, then," she said, sounding very much like one of their instructors. "Barr paid us exactly as expected. It was the other merchants he had paid extra." She had said as much to her master, though she understood their businesses only a little. Her master agreed, and gave her another coin as her reward. He then told her his own conclusion, which was more valuable than coin.
"He says Barr has bought enough siege equipment to topple Cusp, but he's paying to feed, clothe and arm a much larger force than he needs for just that, with enough carts to haul more goods than could be expected from a single raid." Her friends understood. Cusp, they knew, lived close to their own hall, as things went in the woods. Thali told them how her master had made her and their workers obliterate their tracks back through the forest, until even the dust had settled.
But a deal was a deal, and for the next few perigrees, Gesp made his preparations. Gesp prepared what could be made ahead of time, his secret technologies, and then selected a party led by his chief engineer to join Barr's army, and assemble his weapons within sight of the walls, where they would stay anchored. If paid extra, they would disassemble them as well, but it was rare that any Troll was in too much of a hurry to take something apart! Thali's master was to accompany them, as he would ensure that payment was duly collected. The masters selected their workers from the Reds, their bookkeepers from the Yellows, and those journeymen and apprentices that would accompany them to Barr. Of course, Neren and his friends were among them, or the story would come to a halt! Neren's lusus was chosen among the guard. It was a strong beast, with a powerful kick that could drop or kill a Troll from three Troll paces. When time had permitted, it had taught Neren all it knew.
They set out one night, into the woods, and took the secret routes that led to the main road, through the trees. After several hours, the masters ordered the workers and apprentices to tend to their tracks, as they were leaving their territory. Neren did so with hesitation, for his eyes would rather be on the sky than the ground. The stars were out, and he new every constellation. This was his first time away from home, and he had heard that the stars are different in other parts of the world, but so far, the same stars looked down on him. He was almost overwhelmed by the size of it.
Their work was slow, and the group soon fell behind. It was hot work, even at night, as it was the dry season. The air dried their throats, and the trees that towered about the children showered them with brown and yellow leaves, dry as bone. As the children and Redbloods worked, the animals watched them pass.
"Trolls," said a one, unseen in the woods, ahead of the sweeping crew.
"Trolls," agreed another, "with weapons and lucky ones."
Those voices had been sad, but others came from further back, where they could not see the caravan. "How many?" asked one. "We're many."
"Too many," said one who could see. The woods rustled about.
"Not many," said the new arrival. "Not at the back."
The sweeping crew knew the animals were talking about them. The apprentices looked to one another for they were unsupervised save for the adult Reds, which was very much like no supervision at all! The Redbloods turned to Neren and Askai, for they were forbidden to take up arms, even sticks, without permission from a higher blood. Neren waved his permission, but he kept his eyes on the forest, for he was still young and hoped to catch sight of his lusus on patrol. He knew a special whistle to call his lusus, but was not sure if it would be safe to use it if it were far away.
One of the Redbloods had his own ideas how to defend the party from the animals. "We should go out and meet them," he said. "None of this cowering." He was a big Troll, but no older than Neren, and his name was Ammon, of Clay blood.
But Askai's thoughts were on the bigger picture. "We have to warn the caravan," he said. "Someone should go back. Or maybe…" Askai came over to Neren. "Do you see that Troll?" he said, pointing to one of the Redbloods, a small, scrawny girl, perhaps half a sweep their junior. "That is Jesip, of Ruby blood. She can summon a pulse of sound. We should use her to warn the caravan, or to frighten the beasts in the wood."
And Neren looked to his friend in confusion. "How do you know this Reblood?" he asked him.
"We work with labourers every day on the Towers," Askai told him. "They climb high on scaffolds and do dangerous work on our orders. One day, I met this young worker, holding a heavy beam. She makes the air burst with her power to destroy our prototypes when we're done with them, it is that strong."
Neren could only frown, for he had seen that his friend knew the lowblood too well. "I would have thought better of you," he said, with some pity.
But he called to the girl, and she came to him, with her head bowed. She was a strange girl, younger than the others and slight. No matter what Neren did she refused to look him in the eyes.
"You make sound with your powers?" Neren asked her.
She did not look at him, but instead to Askai, who nodded. She nodded to Neren in turn, and he pondered. "Can you scare these animals away?" She did not reply, at first, and simply seemed to be thinking as she pulled at the loose threads on her sleeves. "Do it," Neren ordered.
The little girl, Jesip, reached up to her ears and plugged them both, as though to tell the boys to do the same. Askai did the same, and Neren came to realize that Jesip was not going to speak at all. Slowly, he raised his own hands. With him ready, Jesip squelched up her eyes with effort, bent at the knee, until a patch of red power appeared above her head. Some of the Redbloods and Thali looked to see such a sight, when all at once it the patch burst in waves, like a bubble punctured with a tiny hole, and let out a whole storm of sound. The air screamed, and wailed, like the souls of the dead and the beasts of the woods combined, and the Trolls all fell to the ground, even those three who were prepared, until blue and red dripped past their fingers and the world went black.
Askai and Neren woke hours later in a sick cart, and for several days they could not hear. By the time they could walk, which was soon enough, the caravan had already arrived at the camp. There, they were set straight to work, and it was a good thing they already knew what to do by heart, or they might very well have been culled! Cusp's walls were in the distance, smoke and battle in the air.
The battle! Now this was all very exciting. Gesp's Trolls set to work at once, and began to erect great weapons of war and towers high, on Barr's orders. One day, as their masters shouted orders, Neren saw Jesip and Ammon among the work crews, though Ammon did not seem happy to work with her. He saw Neren on the hills and shouted filthy words at him, but Neren could not hear him, nor could Ammon have heard any reply.
Thali worked with her friends, carrying messages, because she could barely hear her master for the first few days of negotiation with Barr. From what she could tell them, business was going poorly. Barr refused to pay until the first shots were fired, until the rams were covered and the towers moved on their wheels. Her master haggled, but work continued. Up went the towers! The catapults were assembled piece by piece. Barr's soldiers gathered rocks and foul meat for the payload, and Neren prepared a vat of flammable tar. Soon the rams rang out against the gate, and ladders raised for testing assaults. The young Trolls watched them from a distance when dawn came. There they saw Cusp's lowbloods held out day after day after day, even as smoke grew from the city to block out the sky.
Soon, only the towers remained. They had already been built strong, with skins tied to every surface and set on great wheels, and Barr's soldiers had built a ramp of soil across the trenches Cusp had dug about his city. They were surprised the siege had gotten that far. The merchant master had called Barr a fool for thinking such simple walls would need a tower to take them, but only in private, because good money was better in hand than in the hand of a warlord. It would seem Barr knew the people of the north far better than he seemed. The apprentices ordered the labourers and soldiers to hurry. The walls of the tower still needed be treated with mud and vinegar, to protect against flame. Askai directed them, his hearing all but back, and worked just as well with the labourers as with his fellows among Barr's ranks.
When it was ready, and the children went to take to the nearby hill to watch the final assault, they were kicked from behind by none other than Neren's lusus. He led them away, back to their camp, where they found everyone packing in a hurry. They found Ammon pushing out of the labourer's camp, and stopped him.
"Didn't you hear?" he said. He told them that he had been at work cleaning the masters' tents. "Barr means to keep us here," he said. "We've taken the money, pack your things! He won't leave Cusp unattended, not to chase after a fee he owes. The trees will keep us safe."
[Draft lacuna. The children grab weapons, food and water, but are caught on the way out. Ammon was mistaken. Barr not only went after the engineers but seems to have diverted his efforts from the siege in a rage. The five children escape into the woods with Neren's lusus, but most of the engineers and merchants are cut down. The children run for hours, before they come to their senses…]
The Trolls looked about, but they could see no familiar landmarks, no roads: the forest had wrapped up to swallow them whole! The tree's branches were high, too high to climb, or were in patches of short, impassable thicket, the likes of which they had never seen in the forests from home. As the Trolls cursed their fate and ill-luck, Neren had a moment of clarity, and turned to the stars.
The others ignored him at first, as he walked to and fro, trying to catch sight of just the right constellation. The green moon was high in the sky, but was no use to him, as its flight was erratic and he understood it very little. But fate was with him, and he caught sight of the right patterns, glittering down in guidance. He called the others' attentions and pointed toward a gap in the trees. "That way," he said, with confidence. "Come with me."
Thali and Askai vouched for Neren and his stars, and though Ammon voiced protests, they took his road, for they had no other. Neren's lusus led the way into the unknown, and they guarded each other. And they walked, walked for hours, and though they travelled in the right direction, the hike drew out impossibly long, as though the forest meant well to keep them. Animals watched from the trees, tiny faces with quiet, padded feet, and night birds flew above.
"Little Trolls," said one, unseen in the woods.
"Lost Trolls," said another. "Going for a stroll."
"Meat then," said a voice, a tiny voice, and the forest agreed, chattering and chirping and squealing and shrieking in a wave of jeers. The forest had decided, and Neren's lusus watched the trees with caution.
When the Trolls grew hungry, Askai ordered Jesip to bring down a swarm of flying squeakbeasts, by filling the air with psychic noise at a safe distance. The beasts flew into the cloud and went blind without their ears, striking tress and rocks and Trolls at random. The oldest beast escaped, and spoke to the Trolls with the voice she did not use to navigate, for it was all but useless.
"That was a cruel trick, lowblood," she said to Jesip. "We are too small to do you harm, when the forest would eat you alive. Word will pass. As you have blinded us, the blind will strike you all down."
Thali threw a rock at the squeakbeast, though it flew away using its poor eyes. "If this is how the forest deals with outsiders, than the Empress should burn it all down," she said to the others. They shared their food, and Jesip prepared it, pulling meat from bone.
After their meal, Neren picked up their trail by the stars. As they walked, Ammon came up to him in the dark and said "You should tell us how to read the stars, so that we can continue when the animals get you."
Neren quickly led Ammon behind a tree and shoved him behind it, before the others could see. "If the rest of you want to survive, you should try to keep me alive," he said, and led on.
The night passed and the sun rose, blazing hard above the trees and putting a stop to the children's march. The Trolls each took turns to sleep in the shade, though Neren did not trust Ammon to guard them in the night. The stalemate was broken when Jesip silently offered to stay up with her fellow Rustblood for the first shift. Neren found that far more agreeable. None were able to get a good night's rest, as the rocks and roots dug into their backs and the sun burned their deep gray. Only Neren was spared the burns, as his lusus woke throughout the night to gently push him to the shade. When the sun fell below the treeline, Askai woke the others, though it was still late day.
"The trees cover us well enough," he said, "we should set out early, and make more progress that way."
With the sun in the sky, Neren had trouble pointing them in the right direction, though it was harder than it had been the day before. The stars shone brighter in those days, you could see them even in the fading daylight, but the leaves of the forest swayed to block his sight. The forest was unlike anything the children had seen from above. The dry season had sucked out its life, and it suffered through drought and heat. The animals hid when they were not able to eat, but there was almost never quiet. The forest glimmered in the moonlight, glimmered green in the moonlight, and looked like a terrible façade of more bountiful days. Still, to Neren's delight, the bright light of the stars pierced through.
The children pressed forward, the setting sun on their left sides, but as the light finally began to die, what remained caught directly in their eyes. It began to sting at them, the trees began to seem more similar and the whole world a blur. With their eyes in all directions but one, it was easy that they missed the woman on the branch.
"Not that way," she said.
The children were armed and alert in a moment, but they could not make the speaker out. Finally they saw her: the woman sat in the midst of a sunbeam, with it set at her back. She was small and thin like a child, but with the thick, twisted horns of an adult of some age. Her hair was done up like a hoofbeast's tail, but the rest of her was lost in sunlight. All that they could make out was her voice, which cut like dry leaves in the wind.
"By all means," she said, more polite than she sounded, "don't lose your road. But take the path to your right for a time, or you'll regret it."
The children watched the Troll for some time, though they shied away from the sun in a way a good sergeant would cull for, but she made no attempt to move. Askai spoke for the group. "We'll trust our instincts on this, not yours" he said, because he trusted Neren and his stars.
"Wise boy," said the woman. "This way you owe me nothing."
Carefully, the children edged away, last of all the lusus, but the woman did not follow. Together they formed proper ranks, and set Thali and Jesip to guard their rear. But they had not gone very far when Ammon, who was guarding the left, suddenly let out a yelp and disappeared. Neren had to shout to the others to stay on guard, they were so surprised, and went to the Redblood on his own. What he found was a most peculiar sight. Ammon stood, still but enraged, sunk to the waist in the soil and fallen leaves. Ammon tried to pull himself out, hands levered on a nearby root.
Neren offered him a hand, knowing it would be silly for them to go on short-handed, Redblood or not. But when Ammon took the hand, Neren found that the Redblood was well and truly stuck, that seemed to pull him down as well. With a tug from Ammon, fell into the ground as well, and it tried to swallow him. Ammon laughed to see it, at first, but Jesip, ignoring her orders, appeared to see what had happened. She came on in silence, like the tiny, wingless squeakbeast that must have raised her, and shook her head at Ammon. Though it pained him to do it, Ammon helped the Blueblood to the air.
"Quicksand," Neren realized, for it was one of the silly things he had been taught, but sthis was the silliest thing of all! There should be no quicksand in the northern woods! And it should not be so deep, and certainly not when the air was so dry, the Trolls had trouble finding any water at all! Neren whistled for his lusus, who helped them out with a branch, one by one. Together, they called the others, scraped off their mud and made their way back to the place where they had met the strange Troll woman, but she was long gone.
Neren looked again to the stars, and found that they had wandered far off-course when the sun was out. But the news was worse: the quicksand seemed to block even their new route, and much beside. Neren told the others that he wanted to head back. "Come with me!" he said, pointing to the left. "We'll find our old course." But the other Trolls remembered the words of the strange woman, who had told them go to the right. She had been right about the quicksand, so why not the safe road? Neren did not want to be indebted to the woman, but the others' minds were made up. They went to the right, trying their best to stay to the old path. As they went, they checked their road with a long branch to be sure it was safe.
When dawn came, the children settled in for the day, but were interrupted once again by the strange woman, just as the sun rose over the horizon. This time she was on the ground, and to their right, still with the sun again at her back. She must have seen Neren and Ammon covered in mud, for she laughed a hacking laugh, like her lungs might well leap from her throat. That was how she said hello.
She waited for them to jump to their feet, and arm, and then went straight to business. "You went right," she said. "You owe me."
Ammon seemed ready to share his opinion on bad advice, but Jesip made him hold his tongue with a touch on his arm. Neren's lusus pressed forward instead, but it was Thali who spoke. They all agreed later that this was business, and business was her business first of all.
"What do we owe you?" she asked. "Remember that there are more of us than there are of you."
"Something to eat," said the woman. "That," she said, pointing to the last squeakbeast, hanging from Jesip's bag. Thali decided that was fair, and tossed it to her. The woman ate it at once, in two quick bites.
To the others' surprise, Jesip spoke. It was the first words they had heard her say since they had become lost, if they had ever heard any at all. "How did you get here?" she asked, with a voice like a breeze. "We didn't see any tracks."
"You wouldn't have," said the woman. "I took the trees! You could take the trees too, if you tried." She held up a rope and hook. "But that will cost you more than this beast."
The children decided they were not interested, though Neren had a question. He held up one of his coins. "Do you know why there was quicksand in the forest, when the rest of the world is dry?"
But the woman shook her head at the coin. "I'll tell you for free," she said, "because it will sound like a lie, even though it's the truth. It was built by mud sprites, when the world was young."
"Mud sprites?" asked Jesip, who seemed to like this stranger.
"Little creatures," said the woman, "too small to be a lusus, with tiny wings and too many legs. They could only live where it wasn't wet and dark, so they made wet places with their magic, so they could sleep in the muck."
"What happened to them?" asked Jesip, and the woman seemed to smile, though her face was still hidden in the shade.
"It's easy to eat something that marks its home," she said, "and sleeps half the year through." And since that seemed right, the little Trolls agreed it must be true. The woman turned her back to them, and pretended to be interested in other things. "Tell me," she said, "which way will you go in the evening? I can sell you the right path again, and keep you safe. I will be just as hungry next daybreak as I am now."
Neren did not much want to trust this woman, but wanted to know if she would lead them further astray. "All right, stranger," he said. "We go that way," he said, making sure not to look at the stars, and give away their secrets.
"Ah!" she said. "So you're the navigator." And the Trolls realized Neren had given away valuable information, which he could never retrieve.
Thali was the most upset with him of all. "That was your payment," she said to the woman. And the woman laughed, hacking so hard that it must have hurt.
"You've picked a safe path," she said, "until you come close enough to see the road. There are armed Trolls on the road, who work for Barr of the Cobalt. Is he a friend of yours?"
"If we do, we'll use the road," Thali said. "If he's not, you have not given us a safe route. Give us another."
"No other," said the woman. "Go until you see the road, then turn against the rising sun. Walk until you come to the brightest yellow flowers. There is a tunnel there, home to digbeasts long ago. They took in grubs until they had no need for their tunnel, but the Empress never found it. It will take you safely to the other side." With their business concluded, the woman disappeared into the sunlight.
When they were sure she was gone, as Neren's lusus seemed to calm, Thali turned on Neren. "You're only going to get yourself killed if you shoot your mouth," she said. "I will speak for us from now on."
And the Trolls said that this was best, except for Jesip, who just nodded, as she pulled blades of grass into ribbons. They slept safe and sound, and set off along their path of starlight.
They found the road not far from daybreak. It was a simple dirt road, not even very long across. Neren looked to the left, against the rising sun, and realized that the route he had been given would lead them closer to home! The woman was not trying to mislead them – or at least, not to mislead them from the hall. But there were no flowers to be seen in that direction, not yellow, or any other colour. There was thistle, for as far as the eye could see. The road was so narrow. Surely there was no harm in crossing it, just a moment for each of them, compared to thistle and hidden flowers.
But no sooner than Neren and his lusus taken a step on the road when they were set upon by two soldiers from the opposite side, armed with bows and arrows. Neren did not know their faces, and could not tell if these men worked for Barr, or Cusp, or any other. Though the road let the stars shine through to give him a perfect picture, the soldiers wore clothes with leaves, and not uniforms,
"Trying to sneak in?" said the leader. He had set up his camp just across the road, and was terrified that anyone would find it. In truth, he and his fellows were not servants of Barr but cowards: defectors from Barr's army, gone to the woods in search of easier game that did not live behind solid walls.
"Careful," said one of the two women. "They might not be children. And that lusus…"
"They look like children to me!" said the leader, almost in panic, and he double-checked. He then asked: "Who sent you?"
"We're merchants' apprentices," Neren said, as the man was talking to him. With any luck, they would see them as being as harmless as they truly were. "We're going back to our camp," he said, and pointed along their route: "that way."
The leader of the runaways did not need to follow his finger, since Neren had pointed as much to the bandit's camp nearby as Gesp's hall far away. He panicked, and fired an arrow straight at Neren's lusus. The lusus held its ground in spite of the bolt, and kicked the bandit so hard in the face that his neck cracked. The other soldiers fired as well, in active retreat from the angry lusus. The children rallied for an attack, not sure they could take the adult Trolls, when suddenly a shot went wide, and struck Jesip in the thigh.
Blood rushed to their eyes, child, adult and lusus alike, Jesip shrieked. The sound cut through the air like blades, cut their skin, split her own wound and threatened to burst their hearts in the mounting pressure. Only Neren's lusus did not freeze, as it struck down their attackers, but the screams continued. Neren was forced to move. He turned about and struck her in the gut with her foot, so that she would be winded. For a moment, she gasped for breath, but pulled the arrow from her own wound. When she came to her senses, she nodded up at Neren.
"Twit," Ammon said, helping her to her feet. "I told you to practice control, didn't I?"
"Our friends are gone for help," said Askai, who had pulled the arrow from Neren's lusus. "We have to get off the road."
The others agreed, and together they headed back into the woods, and headed against the sun until they found the bright yellow flowers. Sure enough, they uncovered a tunnel that spanned under the road. No sooner than they had all crammed in together than they heard voices and footsteps above, a vast force. They stayed quiet until the last boot passed, and then ducked off into the opposite wood. They had hidden for so long that the sun was beginning to rise, but Neren took careful stock of their path before it was obscured by sunlight. Only then could they look at Jesip's wound.
"That looks bad," said a voice from behind. And sure enough, the woman was there again, reliable as the sun she kept to her back, though she need not have bothered, as their attention was split.
"Wrap a rag about it," the woman said. When the others looked up, she wagged a strip of dried meat at them, which she had stolen as payment for the advice. "Tie it extra tight." Thali, who was closest, set to work at once.
"Fast," said Jesip to the woman, in her tiny voice, and then "…quiet." She said little more, as she had lost a good deal of her red blood about the forest, in a clear trail.
The woman squatted to the ground, to look Jesip in the eye. Askai and Neren tried to look at her face, but it was just as impossible as ever. Askai even tried to just look at her eyes, to see her blood-streaked pupils, but her hair fell in the way. "You're a very observant girl," she said. "Are you a worker?" Jesip nodded, even though she was in pain as they bound her wound. "Do you make things?"
Jesip shook her head. "I take them apart, when they're done."
"When they're done!" said the stranger, as though this were the most remarkable thing. "I like to think some things are never done," she said, and she pointed to her shoes. "These are how I'm quiet," she said. She stepped her foot forward, into a patch of dry leaves, but did not make a sound. "Silk shoes," she whispered, as though it were only her and Jesip there in the whole world. "Silk shoes made by tiny white worms. Not just the silk," she said, "the whole shoe! Worms have no feet of their own. No eyes to see it. But they'll make you a shoe all the same, if you stay very, very still, for a long time."
And this was a silly story, they all agreed. But the woman stole another strip of meat, because she had made Jesip stay very, very still, until her wound was tied. Then she turned to Neren. "Where next, navigator? Another straight line?"
"You've noticed," Thali said. "All right then," she said. "If you're going to steal our meat. Which way tomorrow night?"
"They're all bad," said the woman, and she helped herself. "But this time I would keep straight. The left is bad and the right is worse but the middle is worst of all." And that made very little sense, so the woman pointed to the woods behind them. "Do you really think your friends in the woods will leave you be? Why? Just because the sun came up?"
The stranger vanished again, and the children pulled away from Jesip's bloody trail until they were safe, and dawn came in force. They tended to Neren's lusus in a similar way, and slept as best they could, until the evening came. The pink moon was high, and full that night, and it cast the world into a strange pallor. With it came with ill news when Askai checked Jesip's bandage. Her wound had come open as he checked the bandage, and worse, he had found it marked deep red with a black tinge, which had spread from the deep cut. Neren's lusus hovered over her. She was not its child, but it knew the signs, could smell the smells.
"It may be infected," Neren said when he was told. They had let Jesip drift back into a safer dream. He did not know much about treating infections, but the others at least knew of them. "She won't last long."
"But we should do… something!" Askai said. He had already changed her bandage fresh, and did not want to think about her wound getting worse. Thali was no better, and had even cut up some dried meet for Jesip to eat. For once, Neren had an ally in Ammon, though neither would admit it. Neren set a hand on Askai's shoulder.
"We need to think about the worst," he said. "She's a burden."
"Going to slow us down," Ammon agreed. "Cull her."
The others protested, even Neren, who had only planned to leave her on her own. He and Ammon began to fight afresh, about whether or not they would be providing a mercy, until they had woken Jesip. She hissed at them through her teeth, the only sound she was willing to offer, and they quieted. Askai used the quiet to pick up Jesip. He and Thali made out a deal, so that she would carry his supplies, and Jesips, while he would carry her in his bag, for she was so slight.
"I'll carry her as long as I can," he said. "She won't slow me down."
Even Neren's lusus seemed to approve, though Neren and Ammon did not. "Pathetic," Ammon said, in backhanded compliment. Though Neren said nothing, and watched his friends wary, as felt it even more.
"We'll walk for a few hours," he said instead, "and then hunt. This stranger might know a cure we could barter for."
Ammon just scoffed at that.
They pressed on and did their hunting only once they were sure they were far from the bandit camp. It was quiet in the woods that night. There were few animals, few noises, only the sound of Jesip's breathing in her sleep. It was a soft hiss, a gentle snore, as she faded in and out of consciousness. When they stopped for a rest, she was too weak to even finish her food, dried or fresh. Instead she pulled at it, plucked at the meat and crushed it between her fingers with an ill fascination.
When the night had all but passed, the Trolls began to see very well why the stranger said they had taken the worst road. The trees were fuller, the leaves all but blocked the saving light of the stars, and only the pink moon shone through, bright as day. Neren's lusus began to act strangely, and the air began to stink, though the children did not know why at first. Then the insects came, and the arachnids and centipedes. Vicious things, stinging things and things that ate carrion flesh crawled into the pink-tinged air and darted behind trees and away from their dark homes. Some were big enough to hunt, but the children dared not linger. And then, all at once, Askai tripped over the final piece of the puzzle, one of them, buried under the leaves. Jesip only hissed her soft breath in her sleep, she was so tired. Ammon bent down, and brushed at the obstacle.
Bodies! Troll bodies in the leaves, animal bodies on the rocks, bodies in ravines and propped against trees! Some of the bodies were fresh, like the twisted face that looked up at them from the dirt, its hair still askew but its face chewed away. There were dry bodies, mummified in the hot air, and sick, fat bodies that lay where stagnant water still lay in the deepest pools. Some had wounds, some may have drowned, and everywhere there bones without owners or form left from life. The children doubled their pace, as it was not long until sunrise and they did not want to sleep in such a wretched place, and wanted even less to deal with whatever creature or Troll had caused such destruction. The pink moon seemed to sear down like the sun, and several times Neren had to call a halt while he walked first one way, and then the next, past the ugly dead, to get his bearings, and he would not admit they were lost. With the entire world against them, the children were still among the dead when moon began to fade as the sun began to rise.
"We should find a spot to rest," Thali suggested, but it was a fruitless task to finding an empty place among the corpses. They searched for a time, but were interrupted once again by their stranger-friend, as the rays first peered through the trees.
"Slow going," she said with a wounded laugh. Ammon nodded, though the rest kept their peace. Jesip was asleep, breathing loud, but Neren's lusus stayed on guard.
"Tell us," Thali said, for she was ready for this. "Our friend's wound is infected. Do you know any way to help cure it?"
"Cure it?" said the woman. She gestured to see, and Askai woke her. She opened red-milked eyes with confusion, and stumbled when she was set on her feet. "She's well beyond that, don't you think?"
Thali and Askai were very sad to hear that, but Ammon had only heard what he had expected to hear. "Then we should cull her, now!" he said. He was at Askai's side in a moment, his weapon drawn, though Askai caught his arm. Jesip turned to see them, as the rays of the sun caught at her face, and she stared as though still lost in a dream. Neren could hear her breathe from where he stood: still shallow but faster, and faster as her friends they jostled.
The stranger snapped her fingers. "Enough of that!" she said, and they did as they were told. "Your friend is no longer dying. There's hardly any sense in this."
At the sound of the woman's voice, Jesip turned with a smile, wobbling. At first it seemed as though her legs had fallen asleep, or that she seemed to have lost her step, and wavered with every motion, her whole body stiff. Slowly, she limped over to the stranger.
Ammon and Neren watched her suffering with a fire in their hearts. It was wrong, cruel in more ways than one. They both stepped forward, Neren's lusus at his side and weapons drawn, though Thali tried to stop them. She held them back, as the woman knelt and whispered to Jesip, who smiled up at her. Finally the woman looked up, and the boys stopped fighting their friend. Neren took a step back and Ammon beside him, for as the woman was kneeling, not blocked by the sun, and they could see her face. All that looked back at them were two black, empty pits.
The woman straightened, and for the first time, stepped closer, grinning wide with a mouth still full of grimy, sharp teeth. Her face! It seemed to them like face stained with paint, until they saw that the paint was her cheek bones, the fore of her skull and the rim of her jaw, with flesh torn away with delicate care and bone bleached in the dry air. Her body was marked with a hundred cuts, one hole a gore-wound that had burst through her chest, and her hip had been sheared clean in one corner. And she had no blood – no blood at all! Even her flesh-wounds, which should have cut red or green or true nobility had so dried that all that remained was crusted black and grey. Only her tongue remained intact, and her horns had continued to grow.
And the woman laughed again, to see them recoil, and then returned a florid bow. "Excuse me," she said. "We haven't been introduced. I am the Skull-King. Because I do, not because I am." For even the unquiet dead would not harbour a King. Indeed, they rallied to her command, as the sun touched their sleeping forms. The bodies began to stir, and to pull themselves up by what remained of their fingers, drawn against the rough, coarse bark of the trees. And they made the strangest sounds, the ghouls. Some sighed, some groaned. One, who had died in a shallow ravine, had to force air into his lungs with every breath, and burbled it out like the water still held him below.
The Skull-King set her hand atop Jesip's hand as she clung to her leg, breathing hissing, shallow breaths. "I did tell you this was the worst road," she said. And the children could see that was the truth.
That's not actually a chapter break. I just wanted to specify that. I think it would irritate the crap out of me if it was. I know, because posting it like this does. Nor is it the ending. To reiterate, it's about the middle, favouring toward the end.
Ammon has "Clay" coloured blood, which I'd say would make him a Brownblood, but the narrator just does not care about anyone below Yellow, and that was already probably pushing it. He was a delightful fellow for me to have pretended to be in the time it took me to write this, let me tell you.
"I am the Skull-King. Because I do, not because I am." I was talking to a friend about how "important" puns are in Troll society and thought it would be funny if someone was actually entitled or named with a pun. And now here we are.
Last edited by SkaianRedeemer; 11-29-2011 at 12:03 AM.
> ArcFour: Write a new Troll myth based entirely on a throwaway line from Act 5.
What do you mean, Skaian? I was already doing that with Eridan and angels, geez! 8D
And you should know this by now, SR; we're fanficers. Taking single lines and building entire non-canon plots out of them out of context is what we do!
*glances unsubtly at A Hand in Holding Hands*
*does it again for good measure*
And yeah, I prefer the canon, 'he's just a douchebag' Eridan, but I liked this idea of meshing Troll Angel myths with him the best, and it involved making him a little bit more... well, explainable in behavior, I suppose.
So here's the next part!
Where Angels Fear to Tread - Part 2
You found your Weapon entirely by accident. It was, when you found it, covered in rust and grime; its time in the water had not done it justice. The wreck had been a godsend; you had found it with Vriska (sharp angles, sharper teeth, and the sharpest words you’ve ever heard, and you knew that the whispers didn’t follow her, but there was still something of the voices in her, something piercing and scourging and blazing), and the two of you split the spoils; her with her Fluorite Octet, and you with the Crosshairs.
You cleaned it, and you polished it, and you discerned its workings, and you felt that you had a true treasure in your hands. It was like holding history.
And the first time you fired it, it was like taking your first breath.
You pulled the trigger, and within the blue steel of the barrel and the cerulean leather of the grip and the azure crystal at the end, you felt something come alive.
This was sapphire thunder and cobalt lightning, but underneath you smelled ozone, and you knew that this had to be the power that the whispers had told you of.
You played a Game, and you dominated; hundreds of trolls, gamblingnats and archeradicators and boy-skylarks, fell to your azure light, your Crosshairs, and the smell of ozone became your balm, your opiate, and as you fed hundreds of white-skinned Lusii to the monstrous whisperer of your Moirail (your matesprit, in sleeping dreams and quiet hopes) you believed that maybe this was the Destiny the whispers spoke of, the Weapon they said you would wield, the Game they said you would play.
But the whispers only mocked and derided, their burning words cutting into your mind as they taunted you. How could you possibly believe that, they screamed silently at you. How could you possibly think this meager roleplaying could be the great Game of which they spoke?
But you try to believe it anyway. Because you could be happy with this, you think. You could be happy here, at Feferi’s side, with Vriska’s rivalry, with the power of the Crosshairs (of ozone and azure) in your hands.
You feel like a Prince, but the whispers mock and scorn you even now.
Once, a long time ago, when the day was bright in your window, and the sopor did nothing to dull the daymares, and the sleep wouldn’t come, you asked the whispers to tell you a story.
And, cutting and mocking as ever, they deigned to tell you one. They told you about angels.
The angels were messengers, they said. The angels were harbingers. Angels were what the universe used to usher in the end.
The end of what, you had asked.
The end of everything and anything, they replied, with secrets in their tongues. For every living thing, there was an angel with their name, and when their end came, the angel would come to deliver them.
Where did the angels keep the name, you asked them, and they only laughed and laughed.
Also, please continue The Tale of the Skull-King. I'd really like to see the end! I think Thali is my favorite, personally; the idea of the Skull-King having deals and payments for her advice seems really in line with old fairytales that I've read, and Thali seems like the savvy sort of fairytale hero that often did so well in those stories.
My Stories
The Game, and Those Who Play: "A set of stories detailing moments in the lives of those who play the Game, and the destinies they are a part of. Some Players will fulfill their own Destinies. Others will fail. And so the Game goes."
Or: That story where ArcFour tries to achieve the improbable, with various measures of success/failure!
Or: That story that's so big that the chapters can't fit into the signature!
Or: That story that's pretty much jossed about once a week, much to the author's dismay!
Or: That story with the Sylphs. What's up with them? God.
@SkaianRedeemer- holy shit man, that's a pretty incredible amount of effort in there. Awesome work.
_______
More Guardian fic; this time, Bro.
For him, it's never just been puppets. Sure, at some point, it became about puppets, but he's always had stages. Hasn't everyone? You're a different guy when you're 30 than when you're 14.
Yeah, well, granted, some people never change. Fucking Lalonde and her fascination with enigmatic magical douchefucks and Fantasia, for one. The Old Man and his grotesque trophies, for another.
Okay, so maybe it's just him and his own secret squirrel caching bullshit. He obssesses and hoards shit, it's the way it's always been. He has intensive, exhausting long term affairs with things that capture his interest.
About 13 years ago, it segued into puppets, but used to be, he was fucking apt with robotics. How the fuck did he make a fucking flying skateboard, after all? He wondered if Dave ever had the situational awareness to question that kind of crap.
Like, what 30 year old has a fucking rocketboard? Then again, Dave was so concerned with being chill, he wouldn't allow himself to seem like he had a deficit of information-- it would make him vulnerable. Which was kind of missing the fucking point, all things considered.
But it's not like Bro has any idea how to convince him otherwise. He'll prolly grow out of it.
But back to the point: fucking robots. Well, okay, no, not fucking robots per se, although that did occur to him at one point, but it was too expensive to carry through. The thing was, he used to be a fucking wizard with robotics. If nothing else, he had a fertile imagination, and an uncanny knack for assembling shit. Which is how the smuppets came about-- he made his first couple by hand.
Some of his earlier comics were about epic fucking robot rap battles, a wonderland version of himself as the hero. Granted, he never really had epic robot rap battles, but that didn't stop him from making a rapbot. Rapbot didn't survive too long, but he was pretty chill while he lasted.
Despite what his living arrangements and general disrorganized lifestyle may have painted him as, he wasn't actually a flakey douchecanoe. He had a lot of shit to get done, and more often then not, they stay wherever he dropped them, either in random ass folders on his desktop, or draped across the back of the couch. He'd pick them back up later.
He trained, or fucked around on his computer, or on the X-Box when he had to get shit out of his head. Most of what he did masqueraded as fucking around, so he chalked it up as a win that he merely presented himself as a skeezy shadow projected on a silk screen.
It bothered him that behind that screen, he was strung up by wires that directed his interests and actions before he ever had a choice in establishing them. But fuck it-- he was never one to play by the house rules.
If nothing else, he figured he would at least instill in Dave a healthy disrespect for situations and stipulations that dicate shit unfairly.
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.
Trees and Tentacles- Bro's insomnia leads to inspired art and a little brotherly bonding time.
Undone- Dave tries to see his brother one last time.
Supermarket Shenanigans- in an early installment of the Striders, Bro looses Dave in a store. Cue panic.
My House- Dave butts heads with a lady friend of his brother's.
Binary- Bro's life and death are simple and convoluted affairs.
Climb- a brief look at where Bro is after he rocketboards off the roof.
Key- Bro teaches Dave the key behind being an ironic roof rapping ninja.
Parenthood- What Bro had to go through to make Dave what he is.
Parental Guidance- Parent teacher conferences are never fun for anyone involved.
Of Bathrooms and Beatdowns- The Striders' early morning rituals turn into unpleasant experiences at a party bro dj's at; aka roofies are never okay.
The Two of Us Are Dying- Bro has dreamt of his death sporadically for the past 13 years. Fallout.
Rap Battle!- One of the brothers' many sylladex hashrap battles. Chaos ensues.
If Illness was This One- Bro Strider is sick. Dave is not happy. The pumpkin shows up. [what pumpkin?]
Puppets and Porn- Bro Strider runs a faux/real puppet pr0n website from his home. With a minor in it. Of course someone was going to be totally not cool about it.
Puppet Porn pt II- Child protective services get called. Shit gets real. THE APARTMENT IS CLEAN OMGOMGOMGOMG
Voyeur- Jack Noir watches as Bro dies at his feet.
Surprise!- Dave wakes up on his birthday to the usual Strider shenanigans.
When "Puppets" Go Bad- Dave watches a clip of a video on Bro's computer of what looks to be a puppet trying to kill him in his sleep. Though, that's not quite the case.
@ArcFour: Heh, my original exchange with the "voice in my head" had about ten lines. The one where I talk about a single throwaway line got the response, "Oh, because that went so quickly last time." And then to the Halloween line! But really, while aHiHH's hook and blurb is based on a throwaway line (the no friends thing), the rest is really not.
@Sionnan: "[...] although that did occur to him at one point, but it was too expensive to carry through."
*snrk* I can't believe you actually wrote that line. You should be so proud. But I also love that last twisty last line, though it seems to lack some of the impact of a final line some of your other fics have?
So I guess I will keep writing Skull-King, but as my bad work weekend is turning into a bad work-week (it took me about 6 hours to get around to this post), I can't make any promises as to when it'll be done. Thanks to you both!
Sweeps later, when the world began to burn, and the True Game came in a rain of fire and stone, you finally told Feferi how you felt.
And it didn’t go as planned.
When you told Feferi everything (of how you felt, and how you hoped she felt about you), she broke you, and her betrayal hurts you to the core. You had known (you had been so, so certain) that she felt for you the same as you felt for her, that it was time, that with the True Game coming it was the perfect time, but your heart has been burned and pierced, and you wonder what the whispers meant when they said her name had been written upon it.
The whispers tell you that there is recourse to be had, here. There is a revenge that should be taken, and it would be so very, very easy (azure light and blue ozone, the storm in your hands), but you resist.
Because you still feel red for her, still feel your heart beat faster when you see her, and you still hope, despite it all.
And the words mock you further, calling you weak in the mind, and wicked in the heart, and worst (the most terrible sin of all, they say, with scorching laughter that echoes silently in your mind) that you are hopeful in your soul.
But you ignore them; their vengeance is not for you. Not for Feferi.
Never for Feferi, you swear to yourself, and the whispers laugh and laugh.
You enter the game (and though she isn’t yours, not pale or red, you can’t help but be thankful to her, your server, your watching princess, even if you hide it under hurt and anger), and you find yourself in the worst possible hell you can think of.
It’s all stone and glass and archaic design; the buildings are spread (like an eternal, infinite city, like a world of fractal marble and geometric glass, a mosaic of architectural medieval madness). Spires and towers jut into the sky, covered in statuettes and balconies of grey stone and white marble and cracked, dusty rock, and every window is made of colored glass, every bit of it brightly colored crystal that seems to lose its shine and sheen as soon as you look away.
But if that had been it, you could have dealt with it. It was lonely, and you hated being alone, but you could have dealt with it.
But this was the Land of Wrath and Angels, and you learned exactly what that meant the moment the first of the statues that sat high on the cathedral towers revealed itself for what it was.
Soon the sky was filled with wings, and as you looked up, your mind turned in on itself and stopped, your mind seemed to fall into the great black sky and froze in cold and tortured stillness, as the entirety of what you see brings every nerve in your body into quivering, tightly-coiled terror.
Their wings are lithium lightning, and their breath is white ozone, and their eyes are the bright, electric glow of slow-burning, fast-flowing power, and as you stand beneath them you feel the gathering static of a storm about to break, and you taste coppery blood in your mouth, as everything begins to buzz.
The harbingers of death, the bringers of doom, the ushers of the end, circled above your head and filled the endless, black sky.
And they whispered.
Fun Fact: I wasn't planning on writing this story, at first, until the phrase 'lithium lightning and white ozone' came to my head.
Last edited by ArcFour; 11-30-2011 at 07:12 PM.
My Stories
The Game, and Those Who Play: "A set of stories detailing moments in the lives of those who play the Game, and the destinies they are a part of. Some Players will fulfill their own Destinies. Others will fail. And so the Game goes."
Or: That story where ArcFour tries to achieve the improbable, with various measures of success/failure!
Or: That story that's so big that the chapters can't fit into the signature!
Or: That story that's pretty much jossed about once a week, much to the author's dismay!
Or: That story with the Sylphs. What's up with them? God.
I've been told this is the thread where I should ask this question
I'm looking for good Gamzee fanfics
and I'm sure there are lots I don't know yet
and I'd like you to show them to me.
AUs, crossover, humanstuck etc is okay (in fact I like those things),
any pairing is okay, and it can include any form of smut or none at all.
Fics with an ensemble cast including a really nice Gamzee are cool, too
I'll link those I already know and like so you know what I like and don't show me only stuff I already know
okay that's already a lot I guess but I want more, so point me
as you can see from what I linked I'm basically open to every interpretation of him as long as it's well done?
I mean I personally dislike the DID-and-then-forgets-what-happened stuff, I don't think he selfmedicated, I don't think his murdermode was how a "real subjugglator" would act (but rather how a angry kid reenacts it), I don't think Tavros reciprocated his feelings, etc etc
and yet I can love fics that have all this so yeah
I mostly know what's on AO3 and the homesmut kink meme (but there's lots of stuff there I haven't read yet),
what's on the forum for example or hidden on some person's tumblr or any other sites I probably wouldn't find on my own
Oh and roleplaying that's good enough to basically be like a fic is okay, too
Trees and Tentacles- Bro's insomnia leads to inspired art and a little brotherly bonding time.
Undone- Dave tries to see his brother one last time.
Supermarket Shenanigans- in an early installment of the Striders, Bro looses Dave in a store. Cue panic.
My House- Dave butts heads with a lady friend of his brother's.
Binary- Bro's life and death are simple and convoluted affairs.
Climb- a brief look at where Bro is after he rocketboards off the roof.
Key- Bro teaches Dave the key behind being an ironic roof rapping ninja.
Parenthood- What Bro had to go through to make Dave what he is.
Parental Guidance- Parent teacher conferences are never fun for anyone involved.
Of Bathrooms and Beatdowns- The Striders' early morning rituals turn into unpleasant experiences at a party bro dj's at; aka roofies are never okay.
The Two of Us Are Dying- Bro has dreamt of his death sporadically for the past 13 years. Fallout.
Rap Battle!- One of the brothers' many sylladex hashrap battles. Chaos ensues.
If Illness was This One- Bro Strider is sick. Dave is not happy. The pumpkin shows up. [what pumpkin?]
Puppets and Porn- Bro Strider runs a faux/real puppet pr0n website from his home. With a minor in it. Of course someone was going to be totally not cool about it.
Puppet Porn pt II- Child protective services get called. Shit gets real. THE APARTMENT IS CLEAN OMGOMGOMGOMG
Voyeur- Jack Noir watches as Bro dies at his feet.
Surprise!- Dave wakes up on his birthday to the usual Strider shenanigans.
When "Puppets" Go Bad- Dave watches a clip of a video on Bro's computer of what looks to be a puppet trying to kill him in his sleep. Though, that's not quite the case.
Wait, are we self-pimping Gamzees? People seem to like mine (A Hand in Holding Hands), which is the nice-in-ensemble variety because he was introduced before all the killing started. But he doesn't show up until AO3's Chapter 7.
Wish I had more for you, Chamlis, but I am not very good for recs.
Hey y'all, how ya doing.
I'm searching for that one Aradia fic about what she struggles to do during the fight with the black king (keeping everyone alive), It starts with a single Aradia, then another to help them survive, then another, etc.
I'm completely aware this explanation is complete horseshit but it's kinda hard to explain.
I think it's title had something to do with ticks and t0cks, possibly sorrow.
Shoot. That one used to be only hosted on Google Docs, don't know if that ever changed, and I don't have the link. I thought it was on the Fanfic Recs page at TV Tropes but apparently this is not the case! Anyone?
Hey y'all, how ya doing.
I'm searching for that one Aradia fic about what she struggles to do during the fight with the black king (keeping everyone alive), It starts with a single Aradia, then another to help them survive, then another, etc.
I'm completely aware this explanation is complete horseshit but it's kinda hard to explain.
I think it's title had something to do with ticks and t0cks, possibly sorrow.
So I found this Dolorosa fic that I wrote right after she was introduced, but I gave up on because I thought it was stupid or something? And now I reread it and I thought it was pretty good. So I finished it, polished it up, and here you go.
Also lots of things look nice on this page. Man, I need to get back into the swing of reading and writing things regularly. Maybe after the end of this semester. Some fanart inspired me to write a random adorable fic about trolls taking care of baby lusi alkdjfslj
Mother
Perhaps, Jadeveil often found herself thinking, the brooding caverns would not seem so dark and stifling if she had never seen the outside. It still puzzled her that none of the other caretakers of the mother grub felt her longing for the surface, for a world of light. Even night was brighter by far than the dark gloom of the maze of caverns beneath the surface of Alternia, where the only light to see by was from lanterns and candles. For four sweeps she had been here, duty and blood bound to serve.
She knew she shouldn't complain. Her lot was far better than that of other greenbloods, who were often forced into slavery. But she could never forget what she has lost, either. Just a little more blue, and she could have been a tealblood. She could have lived in the world of the light. She could have had options.
But, she didn't. That blue was not there, and she was instead here, in the brooding caverns.
"Jadeveil!" The voice scattered her thoughts like a flock of featherbeasts, disappearing into the sunlit sky. She came to attention immediately.
"Yes, Matron?" She said smoothly, turning to face the speaker. It did not do well to seem inattentive to the Matron. She was the head jadeblood in the brooding cavern, and the oldest as well. She had been tending this place for more sweeps than Jadeveil had seen, and she was not likely to let anyone forget that. The Matron's eyes narrowed slightly, though she didn't speak immediately. Although her features, as a jadeblood, were similar to Jadeveil's, she still managed to look harsher. It could be because of the long black hair pulled back into a hoofbeast tail, or because her clothes were so much more plain than Jadeveil's elaborate (but surprisingly serviceable) outfit. Mostly, Jadeveil thought, it was because of the disapproving glare she seemed to give everything.
"Enough lollygagging, girl," she said finally, her voice coarse from bellowing orders. "We need more heated stones. The mother grub is going to be laying again any time now, and we have a mound to make." Jadeveil nodded curtly. Whenever the mother grub laid another clutch, they had to be kept warm. It was for that reason that they kept a single natural hot spring tended in the brooding chambers. It was there that they heated the rocks necessary. Someone, however, had to haul them out.
The Matron turned away once she was sure that Jadeveil understood her orders, moving on to other tasks. Jadeveil, on her part, did not waste time. It would take a great deal of it to haul in enough rocks to the laying chamber.
The pool was a part of the ordeal chambers, a place riddled with traps and monsters and all number of things that could prove fatal to grubs. The pool itself could be fatal, for any that fell into it that were not seadwellers would surely drown. Jadeveil had done this job in the past, and it never got any easier to set aside the waterlogged corpse of a drowned wiggler.
Even so, these dangers were hardly notable to adult trolls. The creatures that fed on the grubs were not large or brave enough to attack an adult, and the other traps and pitfalls were easily avoidable for those who knew where they were. It was a terrible place for the young, surely, but Jadeveil tried not to think about that. She'd been told before that her odd feelings, her "compassion," was unsightly. She tried to keep it to herself, but it was hard. Every time she saw a young grub, their little eyes staring up at her with curiosity, unknowing of the cruelties of the world they had been thrust into, the ice she tried again and again to cultivate around her aquatic vascular pump melted. She had the strangest inclination to pick them up, to hold them, to tell them everything would be okay.
She never acted upon that inclination, not even once. Somehow, she felt sure it was taboo, although none of the other jadebloods (few though there were, only five total working in the brooding caverns) had told her such. If she ever picked one up, if she was ever seen doing so, both she and wiggler might well be culled.
And so, she always refrained, though it grew harder and harder each time. Jadeveil made it a point to get through the ordeal cavern as quickly as she could to avoid seeing any of the wigglers, if she could manage it.
She found the pool without mishaps. She began work at once, gathering stones from the heated water and putting them into a special insulated bag she had made for precisely this purpose. The other jadebloods had once scorned her love of sewing, but when she had finally decided to make a set of these bags, which kept the stones warmer than simply carrying them by hand, even they couldn't find fault in her hobby.
Though she moved quickly, scooping stone after stone out of the clear water and into the bag, she took the time to enjoy the warmth. The brooding caverns as a whole were a dark, cold place, and the warmth brought new vigor to Jadeveil's muscles. She might be young still, the youngest caretaker in the caverns, but even she hated the chill that permeated through the place. It was one of the few good things about gathering the stones.
She soon filled the bag with as much as she could carry and hauled the load back to the laying chambers. Another jadeblood took the bag from her to arrange the stones, and she grabbed another before setting off again. She did this several times, bringing back more and more stones, until finally she was told that only one more batch would be needed. Glad to be nearly done, she set off once more.
When she neared the pool again, she heard splashing.
For a long moment, Jadeveil stood still. She didn't move, didn't breathe. She only listened. She knew what it was. Another wiggler had fallen in, one that couldn't breathe underwater. One that would die for being foolish enough to get too close. A doomed wiggler.
She knew what protocol was. Never help a grub while traversing the ordeal chambers. If they could not survive on their own, they did not deserve to live. Showing them compassion now would only set them up for death later, and by then, they might contribute their weak genetics to the rest of the species. A caretaker must never help a grub. That was what her mind told her, but her heart was telling her something else. It was one thing to find the body of a drowned grub, but it was another to listen to one die, to try to not care that its life would swiftly end and that she could have done something about it. Her brain was winning, but only just. She didn't take a step closer to the pool. She was still out of eyeshot. She knew that if she saw the wiggler, she wouldn't be able to stop herself.
And then Jadeveil heard the cry. It was half terror and half hopelessness, not a yell for help but a lament for the inevitable. It pushed her over the edge. Pity and something else, an emotion she couldn't recognize, moved her legs. She reached the pool just as the cry gurgled to nothing, and she saw a gray and black head disappear beneath the surface of the water. It was near the center, past where the warming rocks were piled, and too far from them to use them to climb back to shore. She didn't hesitate. Ignoring the water soaking her dress, she waded in, trying not to stumble over the round stones as she went. She moved as quickly as she could, but she was afraid she was too late. She was afraid she wouldn't make it in time to save the grub. And then, reaching blindly into the water, she felt something grasp her hand. Six grub legs closed around her palm. Using her other hand to support the wiggler, she pulled it out of the water.
Though she saw the bright red body, her mind did not immediately process it. She was more worried about the grub's feeble coughs as it spat out the water it had taken into its lungs. She gently made it release its death grip on her hand, cradling it carefully in her other arm. Gradually, it, no, his wheezing and coughing ceased, and his breathing returned to a more normal state. He opened one golden eye, as though appraising whether he deemed she would hurt him or not, before closing it again. Obviously, the grub decided to trust her, for he swiftly fell asleep in her arms.
And it was then, finally, that the color of his body reached her mind. It was a shade she had only ever seen in flowers and the sky at sunset, and both were back in the days she still lived on the surface. No troll, as far as she knew, had ever had that blood color. It was a red so vibrant it couldn't be called "rust," so deep it seemed the very embodiment of the flushed quadrant. It was beautiful and disturbing, all at once. It was a mutant variant. This little grub had no lusus, no sign in his future. The caretaker who herded the grubs that survived the ordeal chamber to meet their prospective lusi would surely kill it on sight. This grub had no future.
Maybe it would have been better if she had left him to die.
But when she looked down at his serene expression, sleeping soundly in her arms, she couldn't bring herself to regret the decision. He didn't deserve to die before his life had even begun. No wiggler did. She couldn't let herself believe she had done the wrong thing, not when she held something so precious and full of life.
Before she realized what she was doing, she began to hum. It was a soft lullaby her own lusus had hummed to her when she was young, one that she knew she could never forget all her life. But this grub would never know the care of a lusus. Unless…
Unless she became his lusus.
She stopped humming abruptly as the idea came to her. It was ludicrous, insane. It had never been done. Never before, in all the lore of Alternia, had an adult troll cared for a grub. And, she reflected, it was probably best kept that way. The other caretakers, who were the only adult trolls she had ever met, had feelings for the grubs ranging from indifference to disgust. Not one of them, except her, cared anything for them. If they were the norm, well, she wouldn't want to see any grubs raised in that sort of atmosphere. Better for them to go to their lusus. But if the grub would never get a lusus, and the troll did care…
It was still taboo. Against everything she'd ever heard. And she realized, to her surprise, that she didn't care. Even if her mind hadn't, her heart had already decided. She was going to care for this grub, be his lusus, and help him grow. She wasn't sure what would become of him, but somehow, she couldn't imagine that this mutant blood color was just that. Something great was in store for this little one.
But first, she had to escape.
Trying not to jostle the grub, Jadeveil began walking swiftly. There was a passageway that led up to the surface that she knew of, though it was well hidden. It was the place where food was delivered, for the caretakers and the mother grub. They survived mostly on donations, though there was always enough to go around. Many of the adults seemed to feel duty-bound to save part of their kill for the great mother. Even so, it was sure to be empty now, with the mother grub so close to laying. It might be that very fact that would allow her to escape. Any other time, she would likely have run into one of the other caretakers, and she doubted they would miss the grub in her arms. Now, though… They wouldn't notice she was gone until they realized that she had not brought the last of the heated rocks. And she hoped to be long gone by then.
Though she only knew the general area of the passage outside, it was easy enough to find. The passages were not overly complicated, simply because there were never more than ten caretakers at any one time. Jadebloods were rare for the simple reason that not many of them were needed. They lived for a great while. Not as long as bluebloods, perhaps, but a great deal longer than those below them, and they rarely died from anything but natural causes when they worked in the brooding caverns.
That was another hardship ahead of her, she realized as she walked past the stone walls of the passageway that led to the door to the surface. Jadeveil had always either been protected by her lusus or protected in the brooding caverns. Caring for this grub, she would have to be the protector. She would have to hunt and fight off enemies, and she didn't even have a weapon. This idea was swiftly seeming more and more impossible, but it was just something she would have to deal with when she came to it. She couldn't back away now. She had a life in her hands, and she was going to protect it.
Finally, the end of the passageway drew near. There was no door—no one was foolish enough to attack the brooding chambers. Sunlight streamed in through the opening in the rock walls, and to Jadeveil, the warmth of the light felt wonderful. It had been so long since it had touched her skin. It seemed almost cruel that the only trolls who were immune to the rays of the sun, the jadebloods, were locked away in the brooding caverns where that light couldn't reach them. The grub, however, was much less comfortable. He hid his face in the crook of her arm, and she could hardly blame him. She covered him with a fold of her clothes to protect him, and stepped out into the light and the world beyond the rock walls that had become her prison for the last four sweeps.
The new path she was taking was not going to be an easy one. She knew all too well that it would most likely end in tragedy. But, if it meant that the life she had saved might go on to make a difference, it was a sacrifice she was more than willing to make.
And now, at least, she could once again feel the sunlight.
A lot of this, as I'm sure you noticed, is headcanon! Including her name. I just thought it doubtful that everyone just called her the Dolorosa. And to be honest, Jadeveil still sounds like a not-so-great name but I'm horrible with names anyway.
But yes, I had a lot of fun world building here. I'm kind of tempted to write more about when the Sufferer gets a little older, but we'll see.
An occasional fanfic writer and general lurker. -- Chromatica: An Ib-inspired text adventure featuring Homestuck characters
THAT IS NOT SPADES
THERE IS NO CONSENT
THAT IS LIKE SPADES RAPE
TROLLS WOULD BE DISGUSTED
Originally Posted by invalidgriffin
Where do you keep the chips, dB. Can you turn up the air conditioner? Man why is your internet so slow, it is taking forever to download all these seasons of Digimon. YES Digimon is important to the lesbians process will you stop nagging.
Originally Posted by olivia
Originally Posted by Doodled
Eridan: Hunt for fearsome beast
Very fearsome indeed.
got that bitch a wweb-cartoonist. bitches lovve wweb-cartoonists.
Fanfics
Chapter Fics
Thicker Than Blood 01234: It seemed like a pretty straightforward moraillegience. He provided her with food, she protected him from the other rainbow drinkers. Maybe if her old matesprit hadn't gotten involved, it would have stayed that way.
Wizardstuck 12345678910111213141516: The new Hogwarts students just keep getting weirder every year.
Zombiestuck KKEG (1): They thought that the Earth would be empty, ready for them to rebuild and reshape it as they saw fit. They weren't expecting that the meteors wouldn't hit everywhere, or that they might have some nasty side effects. They weren't expecting the Infected.
Don't Press Buttons (1): As usual, John does something stupid. Only this time, the result is that he becomes a troll, and Karkat becomes a human. Shenanigans ensue.
One-Shots
Blood and Noir: I'd fallen for that trap once. I wasn't going to do it again. The Road Ill Traveled: A poem about Karkat and Terezi written in the style of Robert Frost's "The Road Not Traveled". Pixie Trails: Sometimes luck doesn't even factor in. Unovastuck-Karkat vs Throh and Sawk: Apparently, a Sawk is faster than a Throh. Faster than a Braviary too. Karkat finds out the hard way. Kore Wa Troll Desu Ka?: Includes crossdressing and magical girl transformations. Karkat was not pleased. The Lawyer and the Goddess: Vriska and Terezi are having a very important chat when they get interrupted by a certain juggalo. Prompt Dunp: A group of several short fics I wrote based on prompts, including Tavros and Bro sharing tea, Slick talking with Jade about (briefly) hobbits, and Dave finding a birthday gift for Rose. Tears: Getting stabbed in the chest once sucks. Getting stabbed in the chest twice really sucks. Prey: Nepeta is a clever kitty. Yes: In a moment of weakness, Rose consults her magical cue ball. My Little Sis: An alt!kids fic about Bro raising blue!Jade. Based off of MSB's AU roleplay. Funhouse: John really, REALLY doesn't like clowns. Or music by Pink. Ice Cubes: Bro talks to Nanna before his fated battle with Jack. INDIGO and CaNdY rEd: An altblood pesterlog, featuring mutant Gamzee and indigo Karkat. Kantostuck: John wants to be the very best. Like no one ever was. Disease Called Friendship: Karkat has had a bad time with friends. The Demon: Death sometimes comes in the form you'd least expect. Hope: Even the Prince of Hope doesn't understand it. Hoststuck: Yeah, I don't really know either. Coulrophobia: HONK HONK MOTHERFUCKER Do: Killer: He stalks in the darkness, waiting. Waiting. Awaken: It's hard, being a rainbowdrinker. It's hard and no one understands. Kitten: Hearts Boxcars adopts an adorable kitten. Misery Loves Company: Terezi gives the bad news, and finds out some bad news of her own. Tend the Living: Gogdammit Hussie I hate you. Doll: It's actually a very good thing that Vriska allowed Bec to be prototyped. Don't Die On Me: Terezi discovers a new reason to hate Vriska. BL1ND Buddiie2: Sollux consults Terezi on the best method of seeing without sight. Cold: Dave decides to take a little time out to go see Jade.
Just realized that Jacknoir fits as a troll ancestor name. 8 letters. Not sure what to do with this realization, but I'm sure someone could make use of it. Betrayer Jacknoir. Regicide Jacknoir.
Originally Posted by Windwaker
Hello fanfiction thread!
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