#aoafic

[ixmelodix]

Happy new year everyone! :) Here, have a nice big chunk of preview for Rising Star... the beginning of the Disciple's Book!

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A Foreword

Dear reader,

As I'm sure you're aware, in your hands you hold one of only a very few recreations of the Disciple's Book: the tale of the Signless and the only true, original source we have of his words and teachings.

In this recreation, I have done my very best to remain as faithful to the original as possible, but some allowances must be made. The text of the actual Book is not the easiest thing to read, after all these centuries: the original Book is physically ancient, of course, but in addition to that, the language it is written in is archaic compared to the Alternian we speak today.

For this reason, this recreation is no small amount 'translation'; while I have done my best to make it as accurate to the original texts as possible, there are some words and phrases for which we simply do not know a definition, and must make our best guesses based off the context and other, similar words.

There is, of course, a great deal of debate surrounding all of this, as there must be with anything from so long ago, of whether to copy it directly, or to 'translate' it, or to do both and include all possible definitions for the best chance at finding the 'correct' one; but my hope is that a simplified 'translation' such as I have chosen to create will make the Disciple's words - and through them, the Signless's - more accessible to more people. I will leave the haranguing over specific word choices to the scholars.

In this translation, when there are words for which the definition is unclear, I have given the most commonly accepted guesses at their meanings in brackets; for phrases, I have chosen to use a literal translation of the words, even if it doesn't make much sense in modern Alternian.

If this is your first time seeing these texts, please, read with an open mind and a welcoming heart. Some of the ideas presented by the Signless are quite radical, and this work may not be the easiest or most understandable introduction, but it is the closest thing that we have to the Signless's actual words. If you have trouble understanding or coming to grips with a concept, I recommend you bring it up to whoever has introduced you to this work; if they are not able to help you, they will likely know who can.

This recreation of the Disciple's Book has been my life's work. It is my hope that it will bring the Signless's words to life for you, as reading her Book did for me so long ago.

And so, as the Signless said:

Go with love, and love will carry you.

-DC

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This is a true tale of brotherhood and love.

This is a true tale of the way lives were changed.

This is the story of my brother and of our family.

This is the story of the Signless.

Long and ago, when I was only three molts a wriggler, I watched a night fall alone, for only the nightfall before I had found my lusus broken and bleeding unto death. And that was the darkest and blackest night I had ever known, and I was frightened and alone; and though my lusus had taught me to fend for myself, I felt all was hopeless, for what is a wriggler without their lusus, especially one as young as I?

But a young mind can only sit in [idleness/silence] for so long, and an empty stomach is a powerful motivator; and so, though I was afraid and alone and felt all was hopeless, I still set out from my cave-home once dusk had fully settled.

And I wandered for much of the night, seeking the tracks of prey my lusus had taught me to find; but I was young, and inexperienced, and grief-stricken, and I found nothing that night and had to return to my cave-home hungry and ever more alone.

And the next night I tried again; but again I found no prey and nothing with which to fill my empty stomach, for it was deep in winter and the prey hid through the long nights and all the plants I knew slept in the cold.

And the next night looked to take the same course; and hungry and alone and afraid I wandered the forest, resolving not to return to my cave-home until I had found something, for I thought it better to die of the cold than to waste slowly away from starvation.

But that night was fated not to be the same as the others, for it was on that night that he found me.

And he was small, when he came upon me huddled in the bushes, and had a ready smile and a readier hand to extend in help; and when he found me, though I hissed and bared my teeth and snarled to drive away one who I thought might be a predator to me, he only waited until I, with little energy to spare, tired. And then, when I had no strength left with which to protect myself, he did not attack; he only asked my name.

And I did not trust him; how could I, when all my life I had known that any others I found would be, at best, [competition/rivals], and at worst, a true enemy seeking only my death? For my lusus had been the only friendly face I had ever known, and he warned me long and again of the perils of trusting.

And so I did not trust this troll who knelt next to me, and I said nothing, and bared my teeth again at him. But he was not afraid, and he was not deterred; and as I would not give my name, he asked instead if I was hungry. And I thought this to be a cruel jest, and drew my strength together to snarl at him, but he held up his hands and told me, “Peace, sister! I mean no ill.”

And I did not believe him, but he found from within his robes a wrapped package, and he placed it on the ground in front of me for I would not take it from him; and then he rose and backed away, so that I felt safe to take it and that he would not take advantage of my distraction to attack.

And I was very hungry, and the package smelled strongly of food, and I was only a young wriggler, alone and scared; so once he had backed away, I fell upon the package as though I were truly feral. And I devoured every last crumb within the package, and he watched from a distance, until at last it was gone.

And then he approached again; and I watched him warily, for my lusus had raised me to never trust anyone, but I was young and alone and my lusus had gone where I could not follow, and this wriggler was at least as young as I, and smaller than I, and showed no indication he intended to attack, and he had given me the first food I had had since my lusus had gone, and I could not keep myself [apart/isolated/aloof].

And so when he knelt beside me again, and again asked my name, this time I gave it. And he smiled, and greeted me by name; and he gave me his, and I greeted him by name; and I felt already a bond beginning to grow between us.

And he asked me where I lived, and who with; and though I wept I told him of my cave-home, and of my lusus who had gone where I could not follow; and when he did not scold me or take advantage or seek to [overcome/cull] me for the weakness I displayed, I felt braver, and I told him of the nights that had passed since. And he looked as near to weeping as I was when I told him of the nights I could not find food, and I did not understand why he would be distressed, and he could not explain to me in a way I understood.

And he told me, “Come with me to my Mother, for she will protect you and raise you as she does me, and you will never face another night with an empty stomach.”

And I did not believe him, but I wanted to, and I had nowhere else to go; for had I not already consigned myself to die of the cold that very night should I not find food? And I had not found food, but it had been given to me; and so I believed it was either [fate/destiny], or [miracle/luck], and either way I should go with him as he asked, for the worst I believed could happen was my own death, with which I had already made peace.

And so when he rose and offered to me his hand, I took it; and he led me through the forest a long way, until we reached a cave I had never seen before. And he kept my hand, and led me inside; and I expected to face his lusus, but there was no white beast in sight.

“Mother!” he called into the cave; and thus I discovered he had no lusus, for the one who responded to his call was no lusus but a troll.

For he travelled with the one he called Mother, she who was jade; and it was explained to me that she was all the lusus he had ever had, for he was a mutant who would have been culled at hatching but for her intervention, and no lusus would have ever taken him. So it was that she [played/acted] the lusus to him, and took care of him, and protected him; and when he explained what he had learned of me to her and asked her for her help, she agreed. And so I became part of what he called his family - just her and him, to begin, and now me.

And nights passed by, and nights passed by, and together we grew, from third molt to fourth, and so on. And those molts were the only time we saw other trolls besides our family - for we had no cocoons to ourselves - though Mother Dolorosa kept us well away from them and we stayed only as long as our molts required before retreating back into the forest.

And nights passed by, and nights passed by, and together we lived and learned from each other and loved each other in a way no troll before us had done, for we had formed a family, a thing outside of the nature of trolls: mother and children, sister and brother we were together, words taken from the words for beasts for no words existed for trolls that described our bonds. And together we lived in harmony.

And nights passed by, and nights passed by, and all was good.

[ixmelodix]

On: Ancestors

Trolls who share the same sign are considered to be ancestors/descendants; a 'direct' ancestor/descendant is the immediately previous or following (respectively) troll to have that sign.

Not every troll has - or at least, is aware of - any ancestors; particularly with the Condesce's limitation of history, very few trolls are even remembered as having existed. As such, the concept of ancestors is a pretty minor one in troll society for most, and almost no research has been done into it; so most of the information in this post is technically from beyond the fourth wall.

Ancestors/descendants actually exist on a scale. 'True' ancestors/descendants share at least significant portions of their genetics (including mutations and abilities) - but as the lusus system for determining signs is imprecise at best and there are exponentially fewer lusii species than there are possible blood shades, trolls may share the same sign but not be strongly genetically related, if at all. Furthermore, the amount of genetics they may share can vary even when the blood caste is almost identical, though the closer any pair is in precise shade, the more likely they are to share genetics - most, if not all, physical/psionic differences between trolls who share an exact blood shade (which is actually nearly impossible; the hemospectrum is, after all, a spectrum, not a countable list of colors) come solely from mutations in the genes on the part of the descendant.

Some of the canon ancestors are closer to 'true' ancestors than others (for instance, the Disciple and Nepeta, the Executor and Equius, and the Psiioniic and Sollux) while others are farther (Eridan and Dualscar, Tavros and the Summoner, and Karkat and the Signless - who are, despite both being 'mutants', actually not all that close in shade). The closer the genetic code (the closer to 'true' they are), the more physical/psionic attributes they share (e.g. Sollux/Psiioniic's eyes and psionics). This also applies to general, genetically-based body type/height, hair, and things like left/right-handedness.

Horns are an interesting case, however - there is some evidence to suggest that the lusus-grub bond actually modifies the genetic coding for the horns, causing trolls raised by the same species (technical ancestors/descendants) to share horn types whether or not they are close to 'true' ancestors/descendants, and regardless of how the troll's horns might have grown naturally… if, indeed, they even would (without a lusus bond) grow beyond, say… small nubs. ;)

The higher-blooded a troll, the more likely they are to consider ancestors (and ancestral heritage - the status of a troll being dependent on their ancestor's status) to be important. Many trolls either do not have ancestors, or do not have ones that were important enough for any knowledge of them to exist in modern times, especially lower-blooded trolls.

Higher-blooded trolls (most notably violets, whose ancestral records, kept at the Academy, span centuries) often keep records of ancestry (although, with the Condesce's interest in preventing historical knowledge, these records often consist of little more than the existence of the ancestor - usually simply by listing title(s) alongside the signname, often not even including their hatchname - and maybe a few, non-time-period-specific blurbs about their importance). Actual genetic similarity matters not at all for these kinds of records; all that is important for them is that the lusus-based sign/signname matches.

There are no particular legal rights, repercussions, or even acknowledgement regarding ancestors/descendants. Culturally, the concept (and assigning importance to it) is seen as somewhat elitist and rather superstitious; many highbloods (particularly violets) put a great deal of stock in it, but others - and most lowbloods - think of it as pointless and unimportant. There is much less difference noted in these viewpoints based on age than there is based on blood color or status (most lowbloods, regardless of age, consider it pointless; most violets, regardless of age, regard it as important). This is likely due entirely to social factors, as no importance is placed on it in formal, legal education.

[ixmelodix]

On: Horns

In AoA's universe, horns are bone - very strong bone - and therefore extremely difficult to injure. They have very few nerves; the base of the horn, where it attaches to the skull, is sensitive due to the nerves clustered in the skin bordering it, but the rest of the length is pretty much entirely insensate. Some nerves exist in the marrow - most of them pretty close to the head - but the bone around them really prevents anything activating those nerves.

Different trolls react differently to the skin around the base of the horn being stimulated, but it is often an intense feeling regardless of how it is received (typical reactions are to find it painful, arousing, or relaxing, but it varies greatly). It is pretty much taboo for any troll outside quadrantmates to touch this area, though touching elsewhere on the head or the horns is perfectly normal.

It is possible to break a horn, but it's very difficult to do so accidentally, as they are frequently as strong as - or in some cases, stronger than - a femur (the strongest bone in the human body). Obviously, the thinner the horn, the less strong/sturdy they are and the more likely they are to be significantly damaged; however, larger/thicker horns are more likely to be non-significantly damaged and marred, often by chips, as the troll feels no need to be careful with something that doesn't hurt when it runs into things (such as doorways, cabinets, trees, etc.).

A horn broken relatively near the base will hurt greatly, as the marrow is exposed and the nerves within damaged; the further along a break occurs, however, the less it is likely to hurt. Branches often have little to no nerves in them at all, even in the marrow; some trolls may not even realize a branch has broken off at all until they see themselves in a mirror. Partial fractures or chipped horns are more common than actual breaks; these may cause some permanent visible scarring or marred horns, but rarely interfere with the horn's stability as a whole. Depending on how deep a partial fracture goes and where it's located, it will probably hurt; chips and surface damage almost never do.

It is possible to heal a broken horn if the pieces are able to be held together and the troll is tended to by a doctor experienced with horns within a short period of time of the break; as this generally doesn't happen, however, horn breaks are usually permanent. Horns do not regrow missing parts, even with molting, though the rest of the horn generally continues to grow as normal. Molting frequently appears to heal small chips and scarring (in reality, the horn grows, spreads the damage out, and 'smooths out' the scarring so it's less visible). The less the horn grows, the less this effect is seen.

Horns are considered an important part of a troll's identity; no two trolls' horns will be identical. (Though many may look alike; there is some argument that a true descendant will share the horns of their ancestor, but as an ancestor and descendant cannot coexist and still be known as such, it is unproven.) As such, trolls are often straight up defined and identified by their horns, usually before even blood color. Major horn damage - especially if both sides are damaged or the horns were previously asymmetrical - frequently leads to misidentification and the troll in question not being immediately or easily recognized by others, even close friends or quadrantmates, even if the rest of their physical appearance hasn't changed.

Major horn damage can cause mental repercussions like depression and panic; even loss of limbs or other body parts does not distress a troll as much as horn damage can, with how heavily tied to their very identity a troll's horns are.

Larger horns are, culturally, often seen as better; trolls like Karkat with very small horns are frequently made fun of, usually in the form of comparing them to wriggers (if medium-small) or grubs (if very small). Trolls with particularly impressive horns are often considered to be more powerful, more aggressive, and more attractive.

Both heavily-marred horns and pristine horns are approved of in adults, especially older ones - the former indicating aggression and prowess at survival, the latter indicating power and strength. Wrigglers and young adults tend to be impressed with marred horns as well, but often view pristine ones as the troll being weak, cowardly, or childish. Lightly marred horns are less well regarded across the board.

[ixmelodix]

Ohhh are the fics still being continued?

they are! planned, anyway. life's been kicking my ass and i haven't had energy/motivation to write, but i promise i haven't forgotten or abandoned it <3

[ixmelodix]

Sollux: Climb

Erisol Week Day 7 - Ascend

[This one got long, whoops ^^;

This takes place just before Chapter 9 (Sollux: Hope).

Recommended listening: Touch the Sky (feat. Matt Wertz) - Generdyn]

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“Have you ever been up there?”

Eridan looked up to where Sollux was pointing. “Up... what, on the mast?”

“Yeah. There's a platform up there, isn't there?”

“The crow's nest. It's not a 'platform'.”

Sollux stuck his tongue out at the seadweller; Eridan rolled his eyes in return. “It looks like a platform, it is a platform, just a platform with a fancy name.”

“Platforms don't have walls.”

“Some do!”

Eridan shoved the other with an elbow to the ribs. “For fuck's sake, Sol, quit bein' such a dumbass,” he growled; but there was no real anger in it, and Sollux knew it.

“When you stop being a self-righteous prick,” the yellowblood responded, sidestepping the second attempt at a shove. “You haven't answered the question.”

“What- oh. If I'd been up there, right?” Eridan let the argument go. “Once.”

“Just once?”

“What do you think I am, some kind 'a cat? I don't feel the need to climb everythin' in sight, thank you very much. Once was plenty.”

Sollux allowed the silence to stretch after Eridan's response for a few moments, concentrating on the road as they approached the seadweller's ship.

“Why?” Eridan finally asked, when Sollux didn't seem inclined to say anything more.

“Dunno. Just curious, I guess. Seemed like something you would've had fun with, as a wriggler, you know? You were all kinds of nautical obssessed, you can't tell me you never wanted to play lookout?”

Eridan shrugged, looking away. “Seahorsedad wouldn't let me up it, when I was real little, an' I guess by the time I was older it didn't really have all that much appeal,” he replied; but there was something in his tone that made Sollux narrow his eyes.

“Why wouldn't he let you up there?” he asked, trying to probe out what exactly it was.

Eridan turned to him with an eyebrow raised. “Your lusus let you go climbin' around on thin's a hundred feet in the air when you were little?”

“Well, when you put it that way...”

The seadweller snorted. “Yeah, so. No. Just cause he could fly didn't mean he wanted to be rescuin' my ass when I got stuck up there.”

“...when?”

Sollux watched with interest as Eridan half-choked and flushed brightly.

“I- if, fuckin' hell, if!”

“You said when. ...Actually, you said 'when you got stuck'. That pretty heavily implies you did.” Sollux raised a brow.

Eridan refused to look over at him and hurried his steps. “Well, would you look at that, seems like it's comin' on rain or somethin', we'd better focus on gettin' back- gah!”

Sollux snickered at the entirely undignified noise Eridan made when he was abruptly stopped by the red and blue of Sollux's psionics. “Oh no, you don't. There's not a cloud in the fucking sky.”

Eridan huffed and crossed his arms.

“So, want to tell me about how you got stuck up there?”

“Fuck off.”

“Rude. No. Spill.”

“Fuck you!”

Sollux didn't respond to that one; just watched the petulant seadweller and waited.

“Will you just let me go?” Eridan asked after a bit of (what he probably thought was) surreptitious wiggling to test the psionics holding him.

“When you answer the question.”

Eridan narrowed his eyes. “Your answer is no, now let me go.”

Sollux had to mentally rewind the conversation to make sense of that answer; when he realized how he'd phrased the question, he sighed. Of course Eridan would answer the letter and not the spirit of it.

“Fine, fine, keep your secrets. Whatever,” he grumbled, keeping his word and releasing his control over the psionics even if the answer wasn't what he wanted.

Eridan made a show of dusting himself off before resuming walking in silence.

----

Sollux had long since relegated the mystery of the crow's nest to the 'forever unsolved' category by the time, a perigree later, that he came out onto the deck to find Eridan staring up the mast.

The yellowblood stopped where he was to watch, confused but curious, as the seadweller hesitantly touched, then gripped, the lowest rungs of the ladder that led up the mast.

Is he going to-?

He was.

Sollux raised his eyebrows as Eridan slowly but surely pulled himself up rung after rung, testing each to be sure it would hold his weight before committing to it.

His pace slowed drastically as he got higher, almost halfway up the mast now; and then the wind started to pick up, and Eridan stopped entirely.

Sollux frowned, squinting. It didn't look like he was just waiting for the wind to die down or anything, it looked like he was...

“Just cause he could fly didn't mean he wanted to be rescuin' my ass when I got stuck up there,” Eridan had said.

But how would he have gotten stuck on a ladder?

Unless...

He was scared.

Things snapped into place in Sollux's mind. Eridan's bluster, his discomfort, his avoidance of the topic; the determined refusal to talk about it...

The way he clung to the mast above, swaying fifty feet in the air - eyes squeezed shut, Sollux now saw as he rose closer on sparking red and blue - like it was going to drop him and he would splatter to the ground below.

As he rose even with the other, Sollux reached out with his psionics to surround Eridan - not taking his weight, not yet, but keeping a cushion there in case he had to quickly. “Hey, ED, you okay?”

Eridan startled violently and almost lost his grip in twisting to look at the source of the noise; the yelp of pure terror that that provoked immediately crushed any desire Sollux might have ever had to tease him about any of this.

“S-sol-? Wh-what, how-w-”

Sollux let the sparking psionics behind Eridan take up just a little of his weight now in a way he knew the other would be able to feel it, without removing Eridan's own control over his position. “Easy. It's okay, I can get you if you need it,” he said soothingly, floating a little closer.

Eridan's fins were flattened against his skull; Sollux doubted the wind, however strong it was up here, had anything to do with their position. The seadweller's hands spasmed on the rung they were clutching, and he squeezed his eyes shut again, forehead against the wood of the mast. “I... wh-what are you...”

“I saw you climbing,” Sollux replied, guessing that that was probably what Eridan was trying to ask. “And then you stopped, and I was worried. Are you okay? Do you want me to get you down?”

“...you're not laughin'...?”

Sollux kept his sigh strictly mental and floated close enough that he could gently rest a hand on Eridan's shoulder. “No. Why would I laugh?”

“'Cause a s-stupid fuckin' w-wriggler can't e'en manage t'climb 'is ow-wn fuckin' m-mast w-without cryin' like a f-fuckin' grub...?”

Sollux blinked and looked a little closer - and yes, there they were, little tracks of water filigreeing along Eridan's cheeks with the wind.

“There's nothing to laugh about in any of this, Eridan,” he replied quietly, moving his hand from the seadweller's shoulder to his upper back. “There's nothing to be ashamed of.”

Eridan hiccupped but didn't respond, his forehead still pressed against the mast.

“I mean it, Eridan. If it had been me, without my psionics, I would've started freaking out five feet off the fucking ground. It's not some sort of failing in you that you aren't a squirrel or something to not care how high up you are.”

He thought he caught a sniffle; he knew he caught the way the other's fins fluttered a little, even against the wind.

“You... really...?”

“Yeah. Heights are fucking terrifying, all right? There's nothing weird about that.”

Now Eridan dared to open his eyes again, meeting Sollux's; his expression was the most open and vulnerable Sollux thought he'd ever seen it.

“Do you want me to get you down?” Sollux asked again, gently.

This time, Eridan visibly seemed to think about it.

“...You... you can? You're sure...?”

Sollux bit back the urge to snark. “Yeah. Positive.”

Eridan swallowed, gaze flickering between Sollux and the mast, seemingly trying to make a decision. Sollux waited him out.

“...U-um... maybe, just... after...?”

“...'After'?”

“...after we, I... get to the top?”

Sollux blinked, feeling a little stunned. All of this, and Eridan wanted to... keep going?

“Holy shit, ED, seriously? You want to keep going?”

Eridan wouldn't meet his eyes; Sollux suspected that, if the wind hadn't already brought all the color to his cheeks that they could handle, Eridan would be blushing at that.

“...yeah?” the seadweller answered quietly.

“...Okay. Yeah, I can do that. Do you-”

But before he could even finish his sentence to ask if he wanted him to carry him up there, Eridan swallowed hard; shifted his weight; released and flexed first one, then the other hand; and then resumed climbing.

Sollux watched in astonishment, keeping pace as Eridan continued to move up the mast; fear was etched in his every tense muscle and flickering fin, but the seadweller overcame it with sheer determination, eyes fixed on the now rapidly approaching base of the crow's nest above.

Eridan didn't stop until he reached it; and even then it was only because he clearly wasn't sure how to get through the opening on his own. But Sollux read the question in the look the seadweller sent his way; he answered it by gently bolstering the other up, catching his weight while Eridan scrabbled at, then managed to grab, the metal handles set in the floor for this very purpose.

He didn't release his psionic grip until Eridan was well away from the hatch and leaning against the outer wall; landing on the platform himself, he crouched down next to the violetblood, out of the wind. “That was amazing, Eridan,” he said quietly, smiling a little at the startled look he received. “I mean it. You did all that, even though you were scared? That's fucking amazing.”

Eridan looked away, hunching in on himself; but his fluttering fins spoke volumes. “It... it w-wasn't, really...”

“Bullshit.” But his tone was affectionate, and he reached out to take one of Eridan's freezing hands in his. “It's really fucking cold up here, though, and I don't really feel like being turned into a trollsicle, so, can we go back now?”

Eridan swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah. Let me, um... let me just... look, first, though?”

Sollux nodded in turn and stood, reaching out a hand to help the seadweller up; Eridan took it with both of his, and the two of them managed to get him upright, though he stumbled a bit into the yellowblood in the process.

“...Shit, Sol, you are freezin',” he said, startled. “I, I'm sorry-”

“Shut up. No apologies,” Sollux cut him off, then grinned. “You can make it up to me with something hot to eat when we get back down.”

“...Deal.” Eridan nodded, then turned a little to look around.

His expression as he took in the (admittedly pretty amazing) view from up here was so precious that Sollux wanted to box it up and treasure it forever.

“Wow...” Eridan whispered, his waver gone in his wonder. “It's... beautiful.”

Not as much as you, Sollux thought - then caught himself in that thought and hurriedly backpedaled. “Yeah, seeing everything from up here is pretty cool, right?” he managed, trying very hard to pretend he hadn't just been thinking of something entirely different.

“'Cool' is an understatement.” Eridan sighed a little in pleasure, expression soft and wondering as he looked out to where the first moon was just beginning to dip into the ocean to the west. “I... cod, this is amazin'.”

“...was that a fish pun?” Sollux couldn't help but ask, humor bubbling up.

Eridan's face was too flushed in the wind to show any more blushing, but the way his fins flipped down and fluttered broadcast his embarrassment just fine without it. “Fuckin'- look, it wasn't intentional! Quit laughin'!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Sollux replied, doing his best to stop. “It's, it's cute, really, that's all.”

Eridan huffed and turned away, crossing his arms.

“I'm sorry, okay?” Sollux reached out to gently turn him around again with a hand on his shoulder. “Blame it on the thin air or whatever, it's fine. But I'm getting really cold now, and I'm pretty sure trollsicles don't have psionics, so...”

“Okay, fine, geez. Can't even let a troll get a good look around,” Eridan griped; but when Sollux held out his hands, Eridan took them without hesitation. He kept his eyes fixed on the yellowblood's face as psionics lifted both of them out of the basket-like crow's nest and floated them both to the deck of the ship below - probably so that he didn't freak out, Sollux suspected - and didn't let go until Sollux himself did after they both had solid footing again.

“...Thanks, Sol,” the seadweller said quietly once they stepped apart, eyes on his hands as he rubbed a cramp out of the muscles of one with the other.

Sollux smiled, and guided the shorter troll inside with an arm around his shoulders. “No problem, ED - but next time, get me first, okay? I don't want to wake up to splattered seadweller soufflee.”

Eridan snorted and let himself be steered inside. “Nice as that view was, I don't think there'll be a next time. Once is enough.”

Sollux resisted the urge to point out that he'd said that last time, by telling himself Eridan probably hadn't actually made it all the way to the nest as a wriggler before getting 'stuck'; and instead just turned both of their steps to the stairs down into the kitchen. “Now, I do believe I was promised something to warm up...”

[ixmelodix]

Eridan: Craft

Erisol Week Day 3 - Gift

[This takes place at the beginning of Chapter 8 (Sollux: Care).

This is the tutorial he's following, if you're curious :)

Recommended listening: Golden - Scars on 45]

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“This was supposed to be easy,” Eridan grumbled, staring at the mess on the ground in front of him.

He was sitting on the floor in his wardrobe-storage on the lower deck - somewhere Sollux would almost certainly not come looking for him - surrounded by paper, scissors, tape, a cut up pair of tights (and why had Seahorsedad had an entire drawer of those? Eridan didn't remember ever wearing anything like that...), several kinds of paint and ink and brushes, and - last but absolutely not least - several shirts, Sollux-sized.

In his hands he held his first attempt at making a frame for screen printing. It was this mess of a contraption - covered in tape trying (and failing) to hold the tights fabric on it - that had prompted the disgusted comment.

He set it aside and shuffled through the papers to find the one he wanted again. Sucking on a finger that had ended up with a splinter in the process of frame-making, Eridan squinted at the poorly-printed image and tried to make out what he was doing wrong.

It would have been so much easier to do this with the instructions up on the computer... but then it wouldn't have been a surprise, with Sollux so often on the computer, even if Eridan could have commandeered it away from him for so long without feeling guilty about it. So, printed guide it was.

It would also have been far easier to do it with a kit of some kind, but, well. They were scraping by as it was; he didn't have money for anything like that. Everything here was stuff he'd already had (and thank fuck for his various 'crafty' phases as a wriggler, or he wouldn't have had pretty much any of this) so it didn't cost him anything to do this. Well, aside from time and effort. And sanity.

The instructions gave him no help; the original poster had apparently been able to use tape, but tape was not working for Eridan, and he couldn't see the image well enough to figure out if there was a particular way to use the tape for it to actually work. The fabric kept coming loose from the tape no matter how carefully he placed it.

He bit his lower lip in thought. Maybe something to anchor the fabric first...?

----

An hour later, he had his frame, complete with image blocked out and ready to use; it was awkward as hell to work with, with nails poking out all over the place (if only he'd had a 'woodworking' or 'construction' phase, to place them neatly...), but it held together, and most importantly the fabric was stretched properly and didn't look like it was about to fall off anymore.

He moved on to the next step. Inking.

It took a bit of maneuvering (and another splinter, this one bigger and more painful than the first) to get the shirt laid out, a flat piece of wood inside it to prevent leakage to the other side, and the frame securely pressed against it so it wouldn't move and ruin the image.

He was extra careful now; the ink was permanent and if he made a mistake there would be no undoing it. The printed guide got consulted about eighty times before he even poured the ink onto the frame.

Inking took most of the rest of night; Eridan's stomach was complaining loudly by the time he was finally able to start putting things away, letting the shirts hang to dry fully. Tomorrow he would iron them to set the ink properly, then run them (with bated breath and bitten claws) through the washer to make sure it stayed in place; and then they would be ready for Sollux's wriggling day the night after that.

----

Eridan watched avidly as Sollux slit and pulled away the wrapping paper, then opened the box.

“What... ED, how-?”

The seadweller smiled a little nervously. “I, um, I thought you might... like somethin', you know, with your symbol an' all.”

“You didn't like, order them-”

Eridan pulled himself up straight. “Obviously not,” he replied, a little offended. “What kind 'a goddamn idiot do you take me for? You're off the fuckin' grid, I'm not gonna risk that by givin' anyone else your damn symbol.”

“...Okay.” Sollux wore a little grin. “Just checking.”

“Hmph.” But Eridan was unable to hold onto the irritation for very long at all, and started to shift nervously as Sollux went back to inspecting the shirts printed with his symbol. “So, um, do you... do you, you know... like them? They're the right size an' all, I checked an' a little loose 'cause you like them that way-”

“...It should probably surprise me that you know how I like my clothes, ED, yet somehow it doesn't.” Sollux raised an eyebrow, looking over at the seadweller, and Eridan flushed brightly.

“I don't, it's not-”

But Sollux interrupted with a gentle smile. “They're really great, ED. I didn't... expect anything like this. It's really sweet of you, thank you.”

Eridan felt he nervousness drain away, replaced by a warm feeling spreading out through his chest. Seeing Sollux's approval, that he liked it, made everything - all the work and frustration and pain, all of it - absolutely worth it.

“I'm... I'm really glad you like them,” he replied, a shy smile hovering around his lips. “...Happy wrigglin' day, Sol.”

[ixmelodix]

Sollux: Compete

Erisol Week Day 6 - Games

[This takes place around the end of Chapter 7 (Sollux: Reach).

Recommended listening: Catch Me If You Can - Walking on Cars]

-----------

“You... want me to?”

Sollux raised an eyebrow at the seadweller shrinking in the doorway and patted the spot beside him on the couch again. “Wouldn't've asked if I didn't.”

Eridan still looked unsure, but he did finally - if skittishly - approach. “I'm... I mean, I'm not exactly used to...”

“You own it, how are you not used to it?”

“Uh...” The seadweller blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, I am, just..."

Sollux stared over at him, trying to process that reaction. Why would he be evasive and blushing about this?

“I'm just, I don't really have... much experience in doin' it with anyone else, is all?” Eridan continued, turning his gaze to the floor and scuffing a foot on the wood.

“...Are you seriously telling me you own all these fucking multiplayer games and you've never played multiplayer?”

Eridan blushed brighter. “I mean, all 'a them have single player?”

Sollux could only stare at him.

”....You play fucking Troll Mario Races A Large Cast Of Friends From Various Franchises With Increasingly Unlikely Vehicular Contraptions In Fantastical And/Or Impossible Locations Complete With Traps And Interferences Ranging From Useless To Overpowered Depending On The Relative Location Of Vehicles In A Timed Setting With Various Modes Of AI Competition And Ability To Host Up To Eight Players on single player??”

“...Yeah?”

“Oh my fucking god, ED, get your ass on the goddamned couch, I'm popping your fucking video game cherry.”

“Wh- You don't have to put it like that!”

Sollux grinned at the flustered, brilliantly violet seadweller. “As a matter of fact, yes, I do. It's in the multiplayer rules.”

“Is not!”

“How would you know if you've never played multiplayer?”

“Because I know when you're bein' a goddamned asshole, that's how!” Regardless, Eridan did pick up the second controller from where Sollux had tossed it on the table, then finally sat himself, a little gingerly, on the couch next to the yellowblood.

“If you think I'm an asshole now, just wait. AI ain't got shit on me, you're gonna get crushed.”

“How, exactly, is that supposed to make me want to play with you?” Eridan raised an eyebrow.

Sollux waggled his. “'Cause you like getting crushed?” he suggested, and was rewarded by indignant sputtering accompanied by more blushing.

“Fuckin'- Oh my fuckin' god, Sol, you are the absolute worst an' I fuckin' hate you!”

“Is that a come on?”

“NO, oh my god! Platonically, you absolute freak, platonically!”

Sollux started up the game, grinning from ear to ear. “Mm-hm. If you say so.”

“Fuck you.” But after a moment, Eridan settled in a bit, his attention on the screen; he was apparently - for all his flustered indignation at Sollux's teasing - still willing to play anyway.

----

Ten minutes later, Sollux stared at the first place animation playing on the lower half of the screen and tried to reconcile it with his previously-unassailable worldview.

“You were sayin', Sol?” Eridan asked smugly, and the yellowblood scowled.

“You were cheating!”

“Damn right,” the grinning violetblood admitted, without the slightest bit of shame. “Gotta play dirty to beat the AI at their own game. You can only get so far playin' it straight.”

“You fucking- ...wait, you actually were cheating?”

“Ain't you ever heard 'a exploits?”

“You were... were you speedrunning that?!”

Eridan just snickered and started up a new match.

[ixmelodix]

Sollux: Approach

Erisol Week Day 4 - Free Day

[This takes place between Chapters 8 (Sollux: Care) and 9 (Sollux: Hope).

Recommended listening: Across the Great Divide - Putumayo]

------------

Sollux peered around the door at the back of the kitchen and down the stairs into the dark hull of the ship. He was pretty sure the door had been closed earlier tonight - which indicated that Eridan had probably come by this way, rather than going out to town the way Sollux had assumed he'd done when he hadn't been able to find the seadweller on the ship.

Curious now, he stepped into the stairway and began to descend.

He'd been here once before, when he'd been first exploring the ship perigrees ago. There wasn't much to see, then or now; the only light came from the kitchen behind him, so most of the cavernous underdeck was too dark to see.

Sollux supposed if he was really curious, he could go find a flashlight - but ultimately, he wasn't. Not at what hid in the darkness, anyway.

His curiosity laid in the troll that called this place home, and what he might be doing down here.

It only took a few steps (and the sharply increasing smell of brine) to remember what was down here - which neatly answered part of the question of why Eridan had come here. At the bottom of the steps lay a hatch, open to the water beneath - a convenient entrance to the ship from the sea, if you breathed water.

But what Eridan was doing out in the ocean remained unanswered.

Sollux decided he didn't have anything better to do and settled down to wait and find that out when the seadweller returned.

He didn't have to wait long; after only about ten minutes or so, he spotted some movement in the water below the hatch, followed by a splash as the troll in the water surfaced.

A fish almost the length of Sollux's arm occupied Eridan's mouth as the seadweller hauled himself up through the hatch; he took it in his hands once he got to his feet and started into the unlit recesses beyond the stairs.

“What's back there?” the yellowblood asked with interest; he'd been sitting on the steps that led up to the kitchen when Eridan returned.

The seadweller started and almost lost his grip on the fish. Swearing, he fumbled with it until he got a better grip, then turned around to spot Sollux.

“Fuckin' hell, don't scare me like that, Sol.”

Sollux grinned. “Didn't expect to scare you, wuss. Not my fault you don't pay attention to anything.”

Eridan just huffed and turned away again, making his way unerringly to... whatever his destination was. Sollux couldn't make out much of anything in the darkness.

The yellowblood raised his voice so it would carry as Eridan moved away. “You didn't answer the question, dickhead.”

“If you're just gonna insult me you don't deserve an answer.” Eridan's shadow messed with something; what looked like a door opened, then shut again, and Eridan walked back towards Sollux, hands now empty.

“You've got storage down here?”

Eridan raised an eyebrow. “Obviously.”

“Don't 'obviously' me, ED, there's nothing obvious about it. It just looks like a dark wooden cave down here.”

The seadweller blinked. “The freezer's right there, though?”

“What freezer? I can't see a damn thing.”

“...you're seriously tellin' me you can't see the giant freezer over there?” Eridan's voice held a note of disbelief, and Sollux scowled.

“No, apparently I don't have your freaky seadweller eyes that can see in pitch blackness.”

“Hey, don't get mad at me for your weird landdweller failin's,” Eridan snickered, and strode up the stairs past Sollux, who hissed back and scrambled to his feet to follow.

The seadweller paused by the sink and began stripping off his clothes to wring them out in the basin; Sollux watched the other's shoulders ripple under the scars with an interest he would fervently deny if anyone had ever pointed it out.

Fortunately, Eridan seemed completely oblivious.

Clothes now adequately not dripping, the seadweller hooked them over a chair, repeated the wringing process with his hair, then opened a cabinet by the table that apparently housed a dry set of clothes. He slipped on the sweats and loose T-shirt, then turned back to Sollux with a raised brow.

“Did you need somethin'? You don't usually stalk me these nights.”

“I was just curious,” Sollux replied, standing back so Eridan could get past him and then following him out. “I haven't seen you go out that way before. I thought you'd gone into town again before I saw the door open.”

Eridan chuckled. “Nah. They don't need me there that often, an' it's a long walk even for me.”

Unspoken was the suggestion that it was too long of a walk for Sollux; he bristled, but didn't interrupt.

“Anyway, even if you don't like it, fish's a free food source if you catch it yourself, an', well, I'm built for it. Might as well make use 'a it.”

“You catch fish with your hands?”

“Yeah?”

Sollux tried to picture it, and failed. “How?”

Eridan chuckled again and started up the steps to the upper deck living area. “Come with me next time an' I'll show you.”

“I can't breathe underwater, asshole,” Sollux retorted.

“Right, right, landdweller weaknesses,” the violet teased. “Guess you'll just have to take my word for it, then.”

Sollux aimed a punch at Eridan's shoulder; the other dodged with entirely too much ease. (Sollux resolved to start working out or something; he was beginning to feel like his body really was inadequate, faced with Eridan's physicality.)

“Take me on in a game and I'll show you landdweller weaknesses, fishfucker!”

“Oh?” Without Sollux realizing, Eridan (who was apparently some kind of psychic) had led the two of them straight to the living room. “Pick your poison, then, honeybee.”

Sollux snarled at the mocking nickname and grabbed a game at random, shoving the cartridge into the player and dropping onto the couch.

He'd show him. Fucking seadwellers.