so how about them John/Kanaya's. I can't stop now, they're my crack ship of choice because of how complimentary or independent they could be
She calls the windsock ridiculous. From a fashion standpoint it is. It's too long, it's a horrid color, it's a potential hazard if an enemy chooses to grab it or tie him up with it. The truth is that it suits him, it's silly and it floats on the air around him and he toys with it because he loves it. The way he smiles makes it perfect.
He thinks the skirt is ridiculous. It's too bright, almost garish next to the gray of her skin. It's loose and flowy and he's never liked that shade of red. The buttons are strange and she'd look so much prettier in purples and greens. But the truth is that she is so beautiful that she pulls it off without trying. The way it makes her look like she is gliding over the ground puts his own flying to shame.
They don't mesh. They never have, they probably never will. But the thing is... They're willing to try, and what more could anyone ask for?
hnnng I can't stop rereading it~! *o* It was so beautiful and perfect and I'm such a terrible glutton, I want more! XD
Glutton, huh? Want more do you? Okay, well, you only encouraged something that was already happening…
Is it in the trembling of your fingers when you reach for a cup of coffee? Is it the way you flinch whenever you hear a loud noise? Maybe it’s in the fact that your body goes cold and you swear you will never feel warm again. Or the way your eyes unfocus when you read or your arm seems to move on its own to sign a paper or your legs keep moving you forward but you don’t know where you’re going.
Or maybe, just maybe you’re broken when you aren’t the man you remember being. When you look in the mirror and can’t fully recognize what you see.
It’s his eyes that everyone else seems to comment on. They used to be darker, and the light in them had been hope and amusement. Now they were so different, glowing faintly with their own inner light. Not, by far, the brightest he had seen. That dubious honor belonged to Cloud. Nor did they draw the most attention, that would always belong to Vincent. But they were different, markedly so, and people remarked.
They didn’t pick up on the smaller changes, the ones that bothered him more. They didn’t know that his fingers trembled when he reached for his coffee because he’d broken the first mug that had come into his hands after the incident. They didn’t know he flinched at loud noises because he still wasn’t used to how much louder they were to him. His body went cold only after a wound when the mako in his blood surged forth to heal him. His eyes unfocused because the glasses that had been prescribed to him a year back for reading were too strong now, and his vision was only improving. Each and every little thing that would have marked a breaking in another man only proved to him just how much he had changed.
And each time he reached for a mug, terrified that it would break in his hands; each time he moved through a dark room without the need to turn on a light; it time Vincent looked at him with that strange mixture of concern, pity, and fear, he knew the changes weren’t done. Neither of them knew where they would end either.
So all he could do was keep moving, keep pretending it was all alright, and wait for the moment when what was left of Reeve Tuesti lay broken before him, and what he was to become swept up the pieces.
A decision to care for another can change a life. For the better, for the worse, it depends on how dearly they value that life. And maybe, just maybe, it depends on how far one will go to protect the one they love.
A Side-story in the Lives Under the Pink Moon series.
Canonically this would take place in a range from before the series begins, through the flashbacks in Fighting the Current, to during the attack on the Empress's Wiggling Day Celebrations. Another sad tale about the sad ending of a soul who loved deeply. Forgive me. I kill things.
If you're new to the series, I very strongly urge that you do not read this story before Behind Blue Lies at the very least, as it contains a variety of spoilers for that piece. Otherwise, I would honestly suggest you look for the very beginning of the series, An Unscratched Surface.
Alaeza Cerasi is a fantroll belonging to jormungandrising of tumblr.
You can also find this story on tumblr, deviantArt or at Ao3.
For My Moonbeam
“You? A guardian?” His laughter at the suggestion was more than contemptuous. It was superior, as if he could not begin to fathom just how it was possible that she had even come up with the very idea. “Good joke, Teth. And by good I mean shitty to a degree that isn't even remotely fathomable. Tell me honest, were you drinking before...”
“Stick it, Kyth,” Tethys snarled, pulling away from him, throwing back the sheets and twisting out of his reach. The floor of the respiteblock was chilly as her feet touched it, but not so cold as to bother her. Not really. Temperature, she had long since learned, was a matter of perception, and when she compared the temperature of the floor here to how cold she now realized it had been in Oarfoam, the deepsea city she had grown up in so many sweeps ago, she wanted to laugh at herself.
“I'm serious here, Tethys,” Kythal continued, clearly following her with hungry eyes as she stood up and strode away from the slab without so much as a stitch covering her skin. “I'm not saying this as your kismesis. This isn't pitch I'm talking here. I'm saying this as an Enforcer. The kind of lives we lead, they aren't exactly suited to wigglers.”
Sometimes he was right, and in those moments Tethys wanted to lean in and bite his lower lip in two just because she could. No matter what he said she was going to take it black, and they both knew it. Their kismesistude was... complex would be the kindest word she could come up for it. More than once her moirail had suggested that maybe it was leaning just a bit unhealthy, that the black was becoming sullied with other colors and it was going to ruin them. Two of her best Enforcers were out of play because they came far too close to taking the black far too seriously. Typically Tethys brushed those comments off, she wasn't going to allow Gyliea to become even remotely ashen toward her mess of a pitch relationship.
“I don't intend to cuff a wiggler to the slab,” she countered, her response deliberately obtuse and aiming to draw Kythal's attention to the fact that he was still handcuffed to her slabframe rather than allowing him to continue in the current line of conversation.
“Cute, but that isn't what I mean and we both know it,” he chuckled in his dry sort of way, twitching his hands around a bit to make the metal of the cuffs ring against the frame. “I'd rather have this conversation unrestrained.”
“I'd rather not have this conversation, which leaves both of us unsatisfied.”
“That isn't what you were saying just...”
“Are you capable of thinking with anything other than your bulge?” she groaned, rolling her eyes. Still, it wasn't like she was helping the situation. They saw each other so rarely these nights that when they did their clothes didn't last long. Nor did it help that Kythal had never, in all their sweeps, learned to restrain himself when faced with her naked body. With a sigh she snatched a silken crimson robe from a slabpost and draped it over her shoulders. The look on his face as he watched her don the barely covering fabric was a memorable one composed of frustration and longing, and she resisted the urge to laugh at the expression. In some ways Kythal was little more than a beast, and this had always been one of them.
“I can use my pan, which you clearly aren't doing,” he snapped as she finally tied the robe in place and hid the better parts of her skin from him. “What kind of life do you have to offer a wiggler? Think about that for a minute. Not that I give a glubbing fuck whether you fail or not. Frankly, I expect it, but no wiggler deserves the life you're going to give them. You're in a better position than most to understand just how much a life gets upheaved when a guardian dies, leaving a wiggler without a clear place in the sea.”
Until then she'd been walking away, intending to fetch the key to the cuffs and release the poor excuse for fish bait back into the wild. She was more of a catch and release kind of woman anyway. Oooo, that was a good one, she'd have to tell it to Gyliea later. The Empress was always on the look out for sordid jokes to drop during her council meetings. Her advisers were the too stiff kind that gave no one any pleasure to be around. Oh, that one would set Gyliea laughing up a storm. She really should write these down. Anyway, she'd been about to walk away and the words had stopped her then and there.
“You've done research,” she realized, her voice deadpan and cold. “You looked into my files.”
“What do you expect of a kismesis? We've been at this for sweeps, you knowing everything about me and me knowing no where near enough. It was time to level the playing field.”
“I could have your badge for this,” she pointed out, resuming her stride out of the room and into her attached hygieneblock.
“The Kismesitu....” his voice started from the other room.
“The Kismesitude Accords do not apply to those actions which can result in a breach of planetary security,” she snapped back, unable to hide the fury in her voice. “I'm going to have to empanel a review board for this, Kythal. You know how much I HATE review boards!”
Which might have been the point of his dropping the hint, she realized belatedly. He wanted to cause her the frustration and fury that came with having to listen to self-righteous bureaucrats who didn't understand the importance of their work. She was the Generali of the Enforcers, she answered to nearly no one. Unless, of course, a panel of practically any sort was put in place to evaluate things. Trolls who thought they understood the way the world worked were the worst kinds of people to put in control of anything.
“Until said panel is created and given the opportunity to evaluate the breech of security that you represent, you are suspended. Effective immediately,” she announced imperiously as she turned the water on in her giant ablution trap. “There are no appeals.”
There was a roar of fury from the other block as she slipped out of her robe, letting it pool around her feet on the floor. He was going to find a way to pay her back for this, that much was clear. Still, that didn't change her own rage at his betrayal of rules kept in place to make a kismesistude safe for Enforcers. It was already hard enough to keep work professional with him as her Secondar, but there were few trolls as qualified to work directly under her, in both senses implied. But no, this time he had gone too far, and she wasn't sure she knew just how it was going to play out for them in the end.
In the mean time she carefully dipped a toe into the rising water. Steam was already beginning to fill the room as she heard Kythal straining in the other block. As she slipped easily into the water and began to swim the length of the pool-like trap she heard the telltale snap that could only mean that the metal of the cuffs had given out.
“How dare you?” he demanded moments later from the door of the block. The cuffs still clasped his wrists tightly, but the chain that had held them to her slabframe had been snapped near the middle. No doubt she'd have to bring someone in to deal with damages he had caused. In the meantime, though, there was a deep rage in his eyes as he stalked to the edge of the pool, baring his teeth at her the whole time.
“I dare because it's my job to,” she breezed, her own snarl turning her lips and uncovering her own razor sharp teeth.
“You'll pay for it.”
“I'd like to see you try, finface.”
He barely even made a ripple as he slipped into the water. Well, there was a waste of the ablutionbubbler she had just poured into the water. Then again, she was sure he'd find other ways to agitate the water quite soon. Wonderful.
* * * * * *
“This way please, Generali,” the Maryarch said, not even bothering to take the time to greet her, much less introduce herself. The Maryarchs were like that, women with a purpose who valued it over all other things in existence. That being said, she'd always heard that the jadeblooded women who dedicated their lives to the care and management of the youngest trolls were not only elegant but exceedingly polite. This young woman, though, did not even so much as meet Tethys's eyes as she had summoned her to follow deeper into the catacombs that were the brooding caverns.
They moved in silence through the tunnels, their path lit only by the glow of a moss that grew on the cold stone walls. The pale green light was eerie at best, bathing the skin of the troll before her in a shade that evoked memories of the few limebloods that Tethys had the displeasure of encountering. Not that their stroll lasted long in the bioluminescent light. The Maryarch took a turn down a corridor that was unremarkable and indistinguishable from the one they had just been walking in, and only after they went around a bend that Tethys realized this wasn't what she had been expecting.
She'd heard stories, over the sweeps, about what it was like to choose a ward. One went to the caves after their application was accepted, and they were led by a reverent Maryarch into the chambers off of the brooding caverns where the grubss old enough for care rendered by non-Maryarchs, ones close to their pupation, were kept. There were supposedly soft craters filled with sleepy grubs waiting for homes, and pools filled with the clearest water which held frolicking violets. A guardian selected their pupa and remained behind for a full three nights to learn the proper care of their new ward.
Tethys, though, was being guided away from those normal caverns, she could tell it in the way that the light given off as a soft glow from the walls was being replaced with artificial light kept at its own low level.
“Where are we going?” she asked at last, frustrated with being in a situation she couldn't explain or control.
“The Honored Matriarch wishes to speak with you,” the Maryarch responded as she came to a rest before an opening in the wall that had more artificial light spilling from it. “She is through here.”
Just what she needed to make her night perfect: yet another person who wished to step in and tell her how bad of an idea it was that she wanted to be a guardian for someone. First it had been Kythal. Then it was Gyliea, telling her that her job and constant threat to her life could make the life of a child difficult. After that it was her new Secondar, and even her thinkrapist had suggested it was a bad idea. In the end she had proved her determination to them all. She had thought that she was finally in position to follow her desires, Now the only person who could truly refuse her this stood between her and her wisher was before her, and Tethys wasn't sure how to deal with that.
With a deep breath she took the step forward into the opening, and she only had to take a handful of steps beyond before she realized there was far more going on here than she had expected. The cavern had widened almost immediately, one wall staying in reach on one side of her, while the other swept away and left instead a large cavern that was softly lit and broken up into smaller spaces by glass walls and doors. Beyond the glass she saw grubs of every shade but fuchsia, each under the watchful gaze and caring ministrations of older Maryarchs. Already she could see that there was something not quite right with some of those little ones. There was a violet whose tailfin was torn, an olive with one of its legs missing, and a few yellows kept separate from the others in what looked to be padded rooms. These were not the grubs normally shown to those seeking guardianship, that much was clear.
“Honored Generali,” a voice came from her elbow, and Tethys had to flinch at the sound of it. One had to give the jadebloods credit, they were sneaky beyond belief. “Welcome to the culling chambers.”
Tethys turned to look down at the woman who, for all that she was a full head shorter than Tethys, seemed tall enough to have her horns brush the distant ceiling. There were always trolls like that, ones so regal, so self possessed, so elegant, that one had to sit down and take notice. Most jadebloods had that sort of composure, down to a woman. As for the jadeblooded males, well, Tethys had never met one before. She knew they existed, but they were quite rare, and she'd never even met a troll who knew a male jadeblood. Now there would be a tasty little treat she could sink her teeth into. But alas, there were none here now. There was only the woman that must be the Honored Matriarch and a few Maryarchs beyond the glass dealing with their charges.
“Honored Matriarch,” Tethys greeted, bowing her head in acknowledgment. She lowered herself for no one but the Empress herself, a point the Matriarch was likely aware of, or at least understood on some level. “Forgive me, but no one informed me as to why I was meeting with you today. Nor do I know what you mean by 'culling chambers.'”
“Few do. It is something we have kept quiet in the past, though it becomes more fashionable,” the Matriarch said with a sigh. Still she didn't look at Tethys, instead staring through the glass to watch the care of the grubs. “Would you mind if I gave you a lesson, child?”
It took a lot more than Tethys was expecting to resist pointing out that she hardly qualified as a 'child' compared to this woman. She had already outlived a few of the bluerbloods she had gone to officerfeeding with when she had been moved to shallower Enforcer duties. Chances were she had at least a handful of decades on the jade, if not centuries. Sometimes it was hard to tell, what with how gracefully jades aged. Still, if the Matriarch felt the need to play the role of a guardian to all who she met, that was her prerogative. Maybe even her right.
“I am honored to learn at your hand,” Tethys recited. How long had it been since she had used the traditional response to a feeder of any sort.
“And I live to feed the hunger of your mind,” the Matriarch responded, equally formal. “I am unaware as to whether you will have learned or not about the full range of issues that may be presented early in a troll's life. But truth be told, there are quite a few issues that can come upon even the young. You can see some of the more obvious ones cared for here. These young ones are culled from the general population. There have been suggestions that they may not survive into adulthood on their own, and as such we have attempted to provide for them. These poor offspring will have hard lives, and need care and management to see them to adulthood and happy lives. Their guardians must be wise, patient, and prepared to go above and beyond to care for their charges.”
“Why are you telling me that?”
“When applications for guardianship are received they are carefully reviewed, and a number flagged as potential caretaker for these difficult cases,” the Matriarch continued as if Tethys had not spoken. “These applications are reviewed again, more carefully, to see if they are suitable in temperament, position, and ability to care for our weakest children. Often we choose experienced guardians, ones who have already dealt with the issues that may be presented by caring for those who are less suited for nature's urge for survival of the fittest. Unfortunately it has become the style for colderbloods who live on land to take in these charges, to brag about their 'culls.' We Maryarchs are torn over this situation. On one hand these children are carefully cared for, well loved, and sheltered for anything which could do them harm. On the other we have found that these children grow up coddled. They are ill prepared to handle their circumstances when they go into the real world. Or they are told of their short comings, and their guardian overcompensates, so they expect the world to cater to them...”
“And either way they don't have the lives they should have. They either live oblivious and thus unprepared, or they live under an onus of shame for not being good enough,” Tethys observed, shaking her head. “Has to be hard.”
“I expected you would say something like that,” the Matriarch responded, a faint smirk on her face. “I am glad I read your character well. Look there...”
Tethys followed the delicate arch formed by the Matriarch's outstretched arm and pointing finger, and found herself staring at a small violet grub splashing happily in very shallow water. Of course, Tethys couldn't help but notice that the water given to that grub was shallower than that with any of the other violets. Even as she stared she could see a Maryarch lift the grub from the water and wrap it in what looked to be a damp piece of undyed Virgin Mothergrub silk.
“What's wrong with it?” Tethys asked, frowning. “It looks fine compared to the others.”
“My Sister has wrapped him in wet silk for a reason. It was very shortly after the newly hatched grub was placed in the firstponds that we discovered his gills are underdeveloped. We do not know if he will grow out of this, but it means that he cannot be given to the traditional violetblood we prefer to give young violets into the hands of. A life exclusively underwater would potentially be fatal to him. And yet it is found that violets and fuchsias who do not experience life in or near the water in their youth suffer mental and developmental problems. Most violetblood guardians live either on the shore or entirely underwater during the early years of their ward's pupation.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?” Tethys whispered the question, fearful that she already knew the answer.
“Tethys Hydrus, your line of work, your rank, and your personal life bind you irrevocably to the Empress. It is a complex situation into which we would be loathe to place a normal child. Yet in being bound so close to the Empress, you give us a unique opportunity to place this child to his best advantage. We are aware that your apartment is subaquatic, that only a quarter of your hive is flooded due to your need to work with many landdwellers, and to be approachable to your command staff. Your frequency of interaction with the Empress and her decision to center her government upon the land rather than in the sea also makes for an opportunity to locate a child near the ocean and yet still deal with any medical issues that may arise. Your background of accepting specially gifted trolls and driving them to be their best despite any limitations they might have may also be an advantage for the youth. And so, we would ask that you take charge of this ward we would offer you and give him not the best life, but the greatest preparation for life that he could have. Will you do this for us?”
“That's not everything, is it?”
The Matriarch chuckled, finally turning to smile up at Tethys. “Oh, my dear, you are as talented at reading other trolls has I have heard. No, that is not everything. There is one other reason we ask this of you and not another troll who might have the same or similar qualifications.”
“And that is?”
“The sign the Mother Grub gave him... He is to be an Ampora. I know it is odd to find a shared sign among the seadwellers, we thought you might...”
“Kythal doesn't have a matesprit. Never has to my knowledge,” Tethys observed, her voice filled with awe.
“No, but he has had a kismesis for very many sweeps. We cannot say for sure, but...”
“I'll give him everything in my power, Honored Matriarch. I will not spoil him any more than I would have spoiled another child. And when he leaves my care, he will be prepared for the real world in a way that few others are.”
“I thought you would say something along those lines. Come, would you like to hold him?”
“Please.”
* * * * * *
“You minnow I hate to agree with Kythal on somefin like this...”
“Then don't,” Tethys hissed under her breath as she aimlessly stirred her soup. After a moment she lifted her voice louder and repeated, “Then don't. You're my moirail, you're supposed to be supportive.”
“Tethys, dear, you minnow I would never reefen dare to involve myshellf in your business. In fact, I've supported your decision completely. I believe you're a perfect candidate for guardianfish. I just think it's shellfish to take a cullcase that cod be better handled in the fins of another troll,” Gyliea continued with a sigh and a shake of her head. “And don't just chase your soup. Drink it.”
“I will when you stop laying it on so thick with the bait,” she snapped as she glared across the low table they were seated at for their lunch.
Sometime between her last official meeting with the Empress half a week before to discuss funding issues and her arrival for lunch this evening, Gyliea had replaced all the chairs in the Imperial Suites with deep cushions and the proper tables with low things that seemed to love jumping into the path of shins. It was a phase, one the Empress indulged in for a pentasweep or so every century. Something about embracing different subcultures of their people. Tethys loathed when this happened; she'd always favored either going with plain chairs or natural waterscapes. The whole idea of living one's life with pillow mounds and low tables was ridiculous and frankly painful. Yet somehow Gyliea had the nerve to sit there with her legs curled under her like a shellslimebeast's foot, back perfectly straight, and oozing poise almost to rival that of the Honored Matriarch. How could she be so comfortable when Tethys was so tense and confused and honestly infuriated that Gyliea wasn't supporting her like she should?
“I... I'm sorry,” the Empress sighed, looking down into her own soup sorrowfully. “You know I don't want to upset you.”
Great, now she was the bad guy. Tethys swallowed a groan and politely leaned forward so she could sample her soup in hopes that would cheer her palemate. Because she had done something terrible in being so brash toward her moirail. Though there were few who would knew, or even dared to guess, the great and powerful Empress Gyliea had trouble facing conflict. Ironic that the woman thought to be the most straightforward and confident in the Empire was in fact timid in her own rights. Worse was that there wasn't anything that really triggered those self-conscious nerves quite like having her moirail upset with her. The only thing Tethys could do to deal with the issue she had created was to shoosh her moirail, but such was seen as improper table etiquette at any level of society, and a line Tethys would not cross. Instead she had to treat the problem as if it wasn't one at all.
“Are you looking forward to when the Honored Matriarch comes to tell you that the Mother Grub has borne fuchsias?” she asked instead of pressing her annoyance.
“Yes,” Gyliea answered, her voice soft and wistful, like it always got when the idea of her future heiress and other daughters were brought to her. “It will be a burden of no small degree, but Reidra has already offered to return to help me care for them. Alaeza... Well, she is a bit less excited. Something about not wishing to break in a new Empress.”
“They are your sisters, they will support you,” Tethys soothed her moirail, smiling softly. “Alaeza... Well, she doesn't like to fathom the idea of not having you around. You've always been there for her. It honestly must be nice to have so many people around you, so many sisters, willing to care for you and support you.”
“Yes,” Gyliea agreed once again, this time looking up and smiling fondly at Tethys herself. “One of the most wonderful things in the world.”
“Now consider how it's going to be for this poor little one. Unable to be raised with any others for fear he be hurt. Unable to handle the water properly and thus keeping him from the traditional care most violetblooded cullers would prefer. What kind of life will he have then? Who will he become?”
This time no smile, no agreeing, just a pained and almost annoyed look flashing across Gyliea's face.
“You did that on porpoise,” the Empress accused, slipping easily back into her regal mannerisms at the drop of one of those wooden eating sticks that lay just a few inches from Tethys's plate. Honestly, what were those damn things for? The dairybeast noodle soup worked perfectly fine with a spoon, so why would you need another utensil? Seriously, this damn phase had to go sooner rather than later for her sanity.
Or maybe just so she'd stop getting distracted by minor things that were truly of no significance.
“You want me to feel for this cullcase. Dam you, Tethys, I'm just trying to protect you!”
“I've never needed someone else to protect me,” Tethys answered quietly, finally pushing her bowl of soup aside. “And we both know you already feel for the poor thing. We both do. And I need to do this. If not for his sake, then for mine.”
That seemed to give the Empress pause, because Gyliea sat up straighter—how was that even physically possible—and frowned severely in the way she always did when she was thinking rather hard. Tethys watched in silence, knowing that any pressure now would lose her case in the eyes of her moirail. Not that it would stop her, of course, but the support of her moirail was priceless in the face of what steps came next in raising the cull. No, better not to think of him as that; she wanted him to feel normal, loved, capable. He would never see himself as lesser if she could help it, and in her position she was certain she could do it.
Finally there was motion, Gyliea's hand coming off of her spoon and moving to brush some imagined strands of hair behind a facial fin. Tethys knew her moirail well enough to recognize the tell that few others had the chance to pick up on. The simple fact was that for all the fact that the Empress's hair seemed relatively loose and free in the high hoofbeast-tail she wore it in, Tethys knew that not a single hair ever went out of place out of the water due to a special gel Gyliea used by the bottle nightly. No, her nervous habit came from her time underwater, where her hair was always in the way. When she was just enjoying herself and acting in an informal capacity she didn't care if her hair got well into her mouth or wrapped around her throat. It was only when she was trying to appear regal and just that she cared so much for her appearance. Now was the time to strike.
“The Mother Grub has assigned his sign, Peix. He's to be an Ampora.”
Maybe it was the rarely used pet name that did it. Maybe it was the way using it sometimes reminded Gyliea just how much power there was in what sign they might be born under. More likely than either of those, though, was the connection that Tethys would swear she could see forming in her moirail's thinkpan.
“Then he's...”
“I don't know,” she admitted weakly, honestly, “But if he is? Peix, what if he is? Can I afford to live the rest of my life wondering, worrying, that I made the wrong choice and left his life up to chance? I know we're not supposed to care, or be concerned, or any of that, but...”
“But only an Empress can even remotely begin to suspect they are truly related to another troll because of actual concupiscent relaitonships,” Gyliea agreed with a sigh. “You know it's probably some rare and random chance...”
“I can't live my life thinking I didn't do every last thing I could for him. I'm not asking you to help me. I'm not even asking you to approve of it or support my decision. All I'm asking is that you not try to stand between me and what I need to do.”
At last Gyliea's expression softened and she moved, leaning forward just slightly and yet eagerly at the same time.
“So what are you going to name him?”
Well, now there was a question she actually had a good answer for. With a grin she leaned forward conspiratorially, pitched her voice low, and said, “Eridan.”
The name, long unspoken between them, made Gyliea's eyes go wide. “For...”
“I'll never feel for another troll the way I did him,” Tethys answered with a little nod. “Just as I don't think I’ll ever feel for another the way I will my little one.”
Gyliea didn't have a response for that but a sad smile, and Tethys turned her eyes to where her hands had found themselves curled in her lap. Wistfully she let the thumb of her right hand stroke the heart finger of the other hand. She still wore the ring he had given her. A piece of violet coral cut and smoothed to fit her finger perfectly, and hidden as it had been for so many sweeps under her solar protection gloves. It was all she had left, but soon... Soon, in a way, that wouldn't be true anymore.
* * * * * *
It had taken a full perigee to get everything ready. The first week or so she had bought any and every book on grub and wiggler rearing and guardianship that she could find. Half she discarded almost immediately after she returned home because their language treated care as a science, their contents dry and unapproachable when she had to be able to eagerly read the things quickly and in the few moments to herself that she could snatch. Others she found so useful that she went back to the bookmerchant's to get a seadweller print so she could even read while swimming leisurely through her hive.
The next few weeks were spent purchasing everything she would and might need. Nutritional supplements, squeakmonitors, blankets, soft toys, dim lights, even down to a custom made, more shallow than normal bathing dish. The week after she made her final purchase she went out once more, this time with a Maryarch that had been sent to her to buy the things she hadn't thought of that were needed when caring for a cull like her little Eridan would be. Then there was the week she handed all her work responsibilities over to Kythal, who had been happy to remind her that he thought this was a bad idea. Of course the wheels were already turning, and there really wasn't much going back. Besides, the primary guest respiteblock wasn't going to convert itself into a pupationblock on its own. At least in the cleaning, painting and organizing she had the help of Maryarch Winlas, who was even so kind as to offer lighting advice and to arrange the second guest respiteblock on her own. It was only then that Tethys learned that raising a cullcase like Eridan netted you a Maryarch to watch over and teach you until a few perigees after pupation.
In the end it only took three nights after she and Winlas had brought Eridan home before Tethys threw all the books she had bought in the trash. It wasn't even remotely funny how wrong they were.
* * * * * *
“I don' wanna go swimmin', Efies,” he mumbled, ducking his face down in his big, fluffy sweater and even further obscuring his words.
“Eridan,” she sighed, a look that she hoped was comforting painted over her features, “I thought you loved your swimming lessons.”
Almost immediately Eridan retreated further into his sweater, even going so far as to pull his facial fins in closer to his face in a way that was both adorable and pathetic. Someday, Tethys was sure, he'd have no problem getting himself a pale quadrant. For now, though, the two sweep old just looked like a child who had broken something and didn't want his guardian to know. If that was the truth, well, Tethys wasn't so worried. Something broken was replaceable. Yes, she'd have to punish her little Eri, but mostly because he needed to understand the concept of accepting the repercussion of one's actions. Yet there was something about the way Eridan was standing, not shuffling from foot to foot, that said something else entirely.
“I don' wanna do 'em no more,” he insisted in his childish way that said it wasn't up for argument. “I newer wanna swim again!”
Immediately Eridan started to turn, ready to flee to his room, and instead of letting him go Tethys reached out and caught her ward up in her arms. Even while he squirmed and protested she pulled him tightly into her arms and hugged him and cooed at him until finally he stopped struggling and wrapped his arms around her neck. Still she held him, humming and slowly swaying and spinning and doing everything she had learned over the sweeps to comfort him. It wasn't until he had quieted and started tugging on her hair like he did when he wanted to talk to her that she came slowly to a stop. That being said, she didn't let her charge down until she had swept over to a chair, seated herself, and let him get comfortable in her lap.
“Eri, you know I'll let you skip a lesson or two, but I can't just not teach you. It's my job as your guardian to see that you can swim. So, if you expect me to do a bad job, you've got to give me a really good reason.”
Again Eridan started to duck into his sweater, and with a sigh Tethys grabbed his collar and held it far too low and tight to his body for him to hide.
“No, you can't do that now. We need to use our big wiggler words. Tell me why you don't want to swim.”
For a while Eridan's eyes cast about as if he was trying to find a way out of the conversation. At last he leaned forward, buried his face in her Enforcer hooded-shirt. “'Ey made funnuh me.”
So... It was finally that time. Tethys did everything she could to keep from going stiff; Eridan would feel it, think he had done or said something wrong. The truth was now, as it had always been, that he was her perfect little ward, right down to his flaws. Unfortunately those flaws weren't a little part of him.
“Who made fun of you?” she asked, keeping her voice soft and conversational.
“Ofer wigglers,” he whimpered into her shirt, and she could feel moisture starting to seep through from the tears he was gasping around. “Said... said I swim likuh blind brown.”
It was her fault, all her fault. He hadn't been ready, but it had been important that she actually have that meeting with Gyliea. The truth was that she had barely seen her moirail since Eridan had come into her life, and the Empress had finally started to crack under the pressure of having no one to confide in. She had promised herself it would only be one night that he'd be with the nightcare, but in the end it had been three nights in a row she had pawned him off on them. Until now Eridan hadn't said anything about it, for all that he had moped around the hive. Of course she'd done her best to reassure him that she wasn't leaving him, giving him all his favorite foods for meals and playing his favorite games. But it hadn't occurred to her, had never even really thought about the fact that nightcares for seadwellers had small pools for their charges to splash around and swim in. Hadn't even occurred to her until just this moment, hadn't come up until they finally settled down into their old routine on her first day back and she had told Eridan it was time for their swimming practice.
It wasn't practice, in truth; at least, not in a sense that other seadwellers had to experience. For a violet swimming was as natural as breathing. In fact, Eridan had all of the swimming part of it down perfectly, if clumsily as he was still a child that lived most of his life dry. No, the problem was that her Eridan, her flounder, her moonbeam, had unfortunately been born with underdeveloped gills. Their nightly swims were her attempt not only to keep Eridan healthy with experience of the water, but to try and help him get stronger and overcome the physical shortcoming. And, if she was any judge, Eridan was already doing five times better at swimming than he had been half a sweep ago. It helped immensely that Eridan loved the water, loved their 'practice' and sometimes asked to swim a second time in a single evening.
“First of all,” Tethys started after taking a deep breath, “none of them has ever seen a brown blood so I doubt they know what they are talking about.”
That comment, at least, drew a hesitant smile from her ward.
“Second,” she continued without letting Eridan speak, “the best part about people teasing you when you're so small is that it means they are jealous of how awesome you are.”
“REAWY?” Eridan asked, looking up at her excitedly. He was beaming now, and Tethys forced her smile to stay in place. It hurt to lie to him like this, but he needed the words anyway. There was plenty of time in the future for the truth. Now he needed confidence, and that was what she was going to give him.
“Totally. Third, and this is the last one and most important so you better pay attention... Ready? You can only get better, my sweet little moonbeam. Every time you're in the water you get better. In fact, I don't think we're going to practice tonight after all...”
“But you just...” Eridan started to protest and Tethys just pressed a finger to his lips.
“I said pay attention. Tonight we're not going to practice in the pool. Tonight you and I are going for a real swim.”
That made Eridan's little eyes go wide, his facial fins fanning themselves out to their fullest in his true excitement. Tethys hadn't taken him on a 'real' swim in a while. The sea swims were a rare thing she used to test how far his endurance and respiration had come along, and they were few and far between. She didn't want to make him sad when he found he couldn't go far. That being said, she had planned on another swim in a few weeks, so would it really hurt to go early?
“Now, why don't you go get on your swimming stuff, and I'll go get mine and we'll head to the beach and play there all night.”
It was almost amazing how fast her ward leapt from her lap and ran off toward his respiteblock. For a moment Tethys just stayed there in her chair, staring after him, and let herself frown. Had she been wrong? Had Gyliea and Kythal been right? Would her Eridan have been better off with another guardian? One that could pamper him and give him the world, regardless of what the Honored Matriarch had thought he needed?
* * * * * *
“Can we just stop?”
“No way, my precious flounder. We've still got another three leagues before we hit our base for the day.”
“Will you stop callin' me that? I'm nearly five sweeps old!”
“And these are the only times we're alone enough for you to still be my little boy.”
“Geez! I'm an Enforcer trainee first and your ward after. You say that all the glubbin' time.”
“First, never take that tone with me. Second, watch the language, I don't care if you got it from your pretty little moirail. Third, the requirements for seadweller Enforcers requires you to make this kind of trip on your own, faster than this, and the deepdive quickly as well. You need the practice. I've made it hard for you living subaquatic, so you need the experience every other violet has by fact of their birth.”
“... Tethys?”
“Yeah, Moonbeam?”
“Is... There something different about me? The way you...”
“There is nothing wrong with you. And anyone who ever dares to suggest it will have me to deal with. Even if it's you. Got it?”
“Yes ma'am.”
* * * * * *
“You're too hard on him.”
“I don't remember asking for anything nearing your opinion,” Tethys responded without looking up at the troll who had the nerve to stride into her officeblock without knocking first. Of course she wouldn't have even needed to hear his voice to know just who it was who dared to invade her personal space. The only troll with the shameglobes to do that was her Secondar, a man who hadn't even the faintest notion how thin the ice he was treading had become.
“Well, I'm giving it now, just like I did then,” Kythal responded as he flopped down into the chair across from her desk and had the gall to put his feet up on her desk. If only he knew just how fucking punchable he looked just then. Or maybe he did know and was happily playing it up. “Keep going like you are, driving him like we all know you drive him, and people are going to start wondering if you aren't a little black for your ward.”
“Actually, I think they would worry you were jealous of a child,” she countered, still not looking up from her paperwork as she skimmed through yet another report that made her almost nauseous. When had things gotten this bad? “Surely you're old enough, and confident enough, to not worry that I'm looking to nail my ward when I have you around.”
“Me, worry?” he chuckled, removed his feet from the desk, and leaned in to try and catch her eye, not that she let him, “How could I worry when I know whose slab you frequently are cuffed to.”
“Exactly,” she agreed with no force behind the word as she slid the papers in her stack across the desk toward him. “I wanted your input on these...”
Now that she had finally looked at him Tethys saw Kythal raise an eyebrow questioningly, then lift the stack of papers, lean back in his seat, and look at her lecherously before he settled in to skim over the papers. As she watched she could pinpoint the exact moment when he realized just what he was looking at. It was in the way that his lips pinched together, his eyes narrowed, and his facial fins bristled in an aggressive sort of way. Quickly he flipped to another page, this time baring his teeth as he read. Another page and he was leaning forward in his chair. A fourth and he was practically standing.
“Who the fuck do these...” he started to demand until Tethys cut him off.
“They think they are Imperial citizens, fellow Enforcers, and one particularly annoyed member of the planetary defense force who all have this strange belief that they have the right to complain when they or there are harassed by a members of the Enforcers. Especially when harassed by one in such a high position, and one holding such worrying ideas of what people that are his...” she reached for another piece of paper at her side, peered over the top of her shades and read the highlighted quote, “'inferiors so clearly put there by the swill in their veins.'”
“That was taken out of context!”
“No,” Tethys sighed, shaking her head, “it isn't. It's a transcript of a video a bystander shot of you. You've developed a bit of a reputation, Kythal, and it worries me that it took so long for me to hear about it. I've got three reports in that stack from your subordinates that they have been given jobs they were not qualified for, that were dangerous, or that they were passed over for promotion because of their bloodcolor. I've got a report from a concerned guardian that noted you told her ward it was his own fault he was being bullied because he was stupid enough to be born maroon. I actually have a recording of you telling a guardian of a cullcase child who was hit by a seaskimmer driven by two intoxicated violetblooded minors that if she hadn't wanted to mourn her child she should have just put him down when she was given him.”
“She should have!” Kythal roared, coming at last to his feet as his fists slammed into the desk. “For that matter, so should you. What the fuck do you think you're even doing? Raising that defective shit with my sign!? He's a disgrace. You should have let him drown! Like a violet is worth anything if he can't handle the water!”
“He told me that the time you took him for a swim when he was younger... He told me... Tell me it wasn't true, Kythal,” she almost begged him. Because if it was then she had been blind to just what kind of man her kismesis was for too many sweeps. She had nearly gotten Eridan hurt with that blindness. Chances were he had only stopped hurting Eridan, stopped trying to drown him and calling it 'training' because he had realized she would kill him for it. And Eridan, her son, had lied to her because he hadn't understood that she would always hold him as more important than this piece of filth before her. The only reason her son had even told her, in the end, was because he had snuck into her officeblock at the hive and gone through some of the paperwork she had accidentally left behind when rushing off to see Gyliea and noticed something she hadn't seen yet.
“I should have just broken his legs and left him on some island to burn in the sun,” Kythal snarled at her, a sick look of pride and regret clear on his face. “But you'd judge me for that wouldn't you? What a shame you're so behind in the times.”
“I hope you like the deepsea,” she answered, standing herself. “You're being reassigned to Oarfoam. And so we're clear... You're just a regular patroller now. It's the only thing I can do to protect people from you and still retain your experience. Congratulations. I'm pretty sure you're the first Secondar in history to be busted down so far.”
“You bitch,” he snapped, and when she saw the way his shoulders were tensing, his legs bunching, she drew her sword from her side without even hesitating and rested it against his neck.
“Get out of my sight before I have you arrested. Because I will, and I'm certain I could bury you in some small, bright cell for the rest of your days without anyone batting an eyelash.”
The way he pulled himself back into perfect poise without even a slight hint of the rage seething through him was quite impressive. “Of course, my ebon...”
Tethys pressed the blade closer to his skin, resisting satisfaction at how a thread of violet blood welled up at the pressure. The only way to make this break clean was to make sure she took no pleasure in this. She needed to be able to kill him with no hesitation, no regret, no hatred. That was the only way she could protect those she loved. A clean, sudden break.
“I'm getting a tattoo, Kythal. On my hip. I'm thinking of the Enforcer's symbol in black.”
There, in his eyes, was finally a genuine reaction. Horror, denial, fury so bright she wondered if he would lunge at her despite the blade between them. He knew what she meant, what she was telling him in no uncertain terms. A tattoo over a scar meant the troll who gave it meant nothing. The memorable harm absorbed into the patterns of something they took on willingly. No, more than that. To cover a kismesis scar meant denying they ever held a true quadrant in the past. She was cutting him out and he knew it. He hated it.
“Now get out of here.”
“You'll pay for this, Hydrus,” Kythal snapped, and she stood there, calm and strong with her sword at his throat. “I swear it.”
“Maybe, but I won't regret it,” she responded. It was enough, had to have been, because Kythal pulled away from the blade and strode briskly out of her office, slamming her door behind him.
Tethys stood there for another minute, staring at the door. Then, legs weak and pan weary, she collapsed back into her chair and wept.
* * * * * *
He was safe, and really, that was all she could ask. Maybe it was more than she had any right to ask, Tethys realized as she stared at the door Eridan and the fuchsias had just disappeared through. She should have known, should have figured it out sooner. And yet it had taken until the doors had opened and see had seen Kythal striding confidently forward, his massive plasma rifle at his hip for her to realize. She should have killed him then and there in her office, all those sweeps ago. Instead she'd left him alone, letting him fester, and her moirail had paid for it. Soon her son might as well if she didn't do something to stop the familiar monster slowly walking toward her.
“Teth...” a voice groaned from her side. The Empress, her Empress, her Moirail, her Peix. Tethys glanced down at her, met the pain in those fuchsia eyes, and she knew. There was no survival for her beloved stars, but maybe, just maybe for her moonbeam.
“Peix,” she shooshed her moirail, gently stroking the side of her cheek and trying not to cry at the way her moirail flinched in pain. “Peix, I'm sorry. I should have seen this coming. I should...”
“Protect... them,” Gyliea croaked out, hand shakily rising and only sort of pointing at the blade Tethys wore at her side. Wave's Edge, its name etched along the tang and dyed fuchsia with an enamel colored by the Empress's own blood so long ago; there was nothing else the Empress could mean. While most others had jewelry to serve as their primary bond token with their moirail or matesprit, this was the token her moirail had given her. All else she wore was newer. This was the first, this was the seal of their bond. Slowly Tethys drew the blade and held it out to her Empress. Gyliea's face twisted into something not unlike a smile, and her eyes closed slowly. Still her chest rose and fell gently, but Tethys held no illusions that it would do so much longer.
As much as she wanted to stay at her moirail's side, to be with her until her final moments, there were other duties to be done. Sword held perfectly in hand from years of so much practice that it was practically instinct, Tethys rose to her full height. She pushed her shades all the way up in front of her eyes, shifted her grip, and with a roar lunged through the smoke and wreckage of her life to right the only wrong she had fallen short of fixing. It was all she could do for Gyliea. All she could do for the Heiress.
A Handful of Diamonds: Announcement and Welcome to Alearustuck
Okay, so here's the deal. This story has been delayed for a while because at first there was a scene I didn't want to write. It was the continuation of Kanaya's arrival at Karkat's home, and as I wrote I kept realizing that everything I was doing there could EASILY be ruined by the pending end of Homestuck. At last the stalling led me to the start of the Gigapause, and I realized that here was my chance. Much of the future Karkat/Gamzee, and Gamzee/Kanaya interactions are heavily dependent upon where and how Homestuck ends. I need to know where these characters are left in relation to each other to give this story my all on their front. And so I came to a decision: I was going to hiatus. I wanted to see the end of Homestuck to make this story be everything it can be. I will, of course, ignore any details that completely ruin what I'm doing here (such as Hussie actually giving us an epilogue that says what happens to everyone), and I'll throw out details on the way that need to be gone to create the AU I want. But I want to make this story as good as possible, and so I'm taking a break after this chapter. Thus we end up with Chapter Four being a shorter chapter that is almost exclusively focused on Eridan. Forgive me, but that is what this has to be.
I tried to get in contact with the requester to run this decision by them, but I have not been able to reach her. With that in mind I have finally opted to do what I was suggesting to the requester.
I always wanted to do side stories with this series. I wanted to explore how characters got where they were, how they handled the awakening of their memories, and a few other things. I always worried I'd never be able to do so because of how busy I was. Now, though, those stories are coming. If you're reading this on Ao3 you might notice that this story has now become part of a series: Alearustuck. If you're reading this elsewhere, well, I'll try my best to make sure that Alearustuck stories are clearly noted to be so in their summaries so you can find them. I'll be diving into side stories to fill the time until the gigapause is over and I'm comfortable finishing the story. Sorry. That is just what I need to do. Even when the Gigapause ends I may continue the pause here for a while to keep doing the other stories. I hope you can forgive me this, but as a writer this is what I feel needs to happen to give this story the chance to be the best it can be.
I hope that the first Alearustuck one-shot will be coming soon, so keep your eyes out. I hope to see you there.
if you're still writing then please may I have some dirkjane and kittens and if not that's cool too
Sorry this took so long. Computer died, and then RWBY. So... Here ya go."What about this one?"
Jane shakes her head frowning at the bundle of fluff Dirk was holding out to her. "Not that one. It looks a lot like that picture Roxy sent me of her old cat. It'd make her sad."
Dirk just shrugged and fished another kitten out of the display case. "How about this cute little guy?"
"Dirk, surely you can see why that one won't work..."
"Okay, so maybe it does look a little like GCat, but is that a good reason to..."
"Soccer field," Jane insisted, her voice a bit of a snarl. Dirk didn't press the question, just lowered the kitten back among its mates, and started looking for another one. For all that Jane normally wasn't picky, apparently she was a lot worse when it came to adopting a cat for their new apartment. But there was nothing he could do but keep trying. Eventually he'd find one that would win its way through to her heart, just like he had.
Oh Anon, you do wonderful things to me. MWAHAHAHA!
"BLUH!"
"Well now, Kanaya, don't you think that was a bit of an exaggeration?" Rose asked, her voice full of that infinite patience that only really occurred when she was being quite deliberately insincere with her comments. Human sarcasm had abounded since Rose and Dave had arrived on the meteor, and it was times like this that Kanaya wanted to roll her eyes over the behavior.
"I assure you that this is not an act, Rose. The taste of your... Coffee was it? Well, it is, and forgive my frankness, far too similar to this one caffeinated beverage from Alternia created by the Condesce that the highbloods favored, called Tab. It is... Well, not quite palatable."
"Tab isn't that bad. The Mayor likes it," Dave threw down like a challenge, and Kanaya just continued to politely ignore him as she pushed the hot mug back into Rose's hands.
"Forgive me, Rose. I promised I would attempt to savor this beverage of yours, but I do not believe that your alchemy is quite up to... Snuff as it were. I will continue to consume water."
"Tea."
"What? Humans have a different word for..." Kanaya started, only to have Dave shake his head like he did when Karkat said something particularly embarrassing.
"No. We have a different drink for heathens that can't consume coffee the way it is meant to be enjoyed. A drink that has to drop because it ain't all that hot," Dave offered, giving Rose a meaningful look.
"Well, I suppose she does seem the type," Rose agreed after a long moment, before turning her back on the group to return to the brewing monstrosity in the corner. "I think you would agree, Dave, that green is the only choice here."
"Absolutely."
"I am not sure I would enjoy anything that sprang from that... Contraption of yours."
"It's a percolator," Rose responded, laughter in her voice, "And it's got a setting for plain hot water. Which is what I need to get to brew some tea."
"I have to believe that this idea of brewing drinks is a mistake that should be..."
"Just let the lady work her magic," Dave insisted. And magic it was, for only a minute later Rose was returning to them with a new mug, this time one that had a small paper bag filled with what looked like torn up plant matter in it.
"Try this," she insisted, pressing the cup into Kanaya's hands. "I put in two sugars. I think that's how much you're supposed to use."
"I'm not sure this is going to..." Kanaya started, only to trail off as the liquid touched her lips.
"Well?" Dave asked, almost looking over the top of his shades in anticipation of her reaction.
"Give her time," Rose reassured him, a pleased smile on her lips.
"What did you call this?" Kanaya asked at last, her words faint and soft.
"Tea."
Tea. Yes, that worked wonderfully. Simple and yet unique. A name that fit well to the flavors on her palate. Oh yes, this was going to be a very good fit.
A single night can change a life. For the better, for the worse, it all depends on the choices that are made. And maybe, just maybe, it depends on when that night comes.
A side story in the Lives Under the Pink Moon series.
Canonically this would take place just before Chapter 19 of DtD. A sad tale about the sad ending of a soul that had to go for plot to work. Forgive me. I kill things.
If you're new to the series, I very strongly urge that you do not read this story before Doomed to Dream, as it contains a variety of spoilers for that piece. If you're returning, man do I have a surprise for you. Read on and find out. Otherwise, I would honestly suggest you look for the very beginning of the series, An Unscratched Surface.
You can also find this story on tumblr, deviantArt or at Ao3.
Eve of Life
There were any number of complaints that one could raise about the waitingblock. The walls were painted an atrocious shade of taupe that clashed with the mauve of the carpet. The carpet itself was far too thick, more like trudging through sand than moving over proper flooring. The chair that she found herself seated in seemed to be trying to decide between swallowing her whole and jabbing its hidden metal frame into every bone it could get at. The magazines on the far too low table were perigees old and tattered to boot, and the coffee cup cradled in her hands was chilly and the drink that had been in it was more than simply watered down. Add that to the fact that she'd been waiting there for over two hours and the intended effect was hard to mistake; one was not meant to be comfortable here.
None of that was a strange concept to Alyssm Waleti. She had been in more than her fair share of waitingblocks that were designed to discomfort. Really, only a healthtender or other professional's office was meant to be inviting, to lull their occupants into a comfortable mind frame before the stress of whatever their meeting might entail. The exception, of course, was in the waitingblocks common to all Enforcer division headquarters. Really, she shouldn't have been surprised, Enforcers didn't want their suspects feeling overly comfortable, didn't want legisticators staying too long thinking they had a right to poke their noses into developing cases, and it wasn't like they were running visiting hours or anything, so comfort wasn't a focus. Efficiency, minimal cost and easy replacement when violent subjects took their aggression out on their surroundings were the focus, not color swatches or tacky floral print chairs. It was hard to connect what Waleti was experiencing now with the deliberate design of an Enforcer waitingblock, and yet the longer she waited, the more she knew that this effect wasn't by chance. It had taken careful planning to make such an abrasive environment.
Honestly, she should have seen it coming, considering who she was waiting to meet.
“Captain Waleti?” a voice questioned from behind the desk that occupied the far side of the waitingblock, a barrier between Waleti and the reason she was here. The young purpleblood's voice was sweet and yet questioning, as if she had completely forgotten that Waleti was waiting here. Not that she had. There was a way that the face twisted itself when it was genuinely surprised, and there was no sign of it on the girl's face. No, she had known that her superior was purposefully delaying this meeting, and that it was meant to be taken as the insult that it was.
“Yes?” she responded, her voice full of a practiced and hard earned nonchalance that one only gained from years of service in the Enforcers. There were too many little power struggles, too many major political plays going on in the service to be respectable, and one had to learn to not only see which way the waves were going, but when the tide was going to come in. It taught one a kind of patience that they weren't prepared for when they were wide-eyed, impressionable recruits. Live long enough in the service, though, and one could perfect a blasé expression that worked in nearly any situation.
“The Generali will see you now,” the purple responded, a wide—and strained—smile gracing her face. Here was one yet to be touched by the cynicism of age. Waleti almost envied her that. Sometimes she longed to go back to the simpler days when it was about collaring perps and not having the sort of conflict of interest she was here to deal with.
“And here I was considering perusing one of these lovely publications,” Waleti responded, voice deadpan as she set her mug on the table and rose. For a moment she stood there, tidying the way her uniform rested on her and the way her hair fell around her face. It was a minor way of taking up time, a petty revenge, but it was something. “Through that door then?”
The purpleblood nodded, smiling graciously once more, and Waleti just glided past her to the door that her momentary foe had been hiding behind for hours. Now came the confrontation, and she wasn't looking forward to it one bit. The number one reason being, of course, the self-satisfied smirk that she faced as soon as she opened the door into the private officeblock of Enforcer Generali Tethys Hydrus. There was a small part of her that wanted to snarl and smack the smirk off of that high and mighty face. That part was easily drowned out by the far more dominating part of her pan that instructed her to throw a smart salute and come to full attention before the woman that was, at the end of the night, her ultimate superior.
“Captain Alyssm Waleti of Ristart reporting as instructed.”
“Of course. At ease. Oh, and do close the door behind you before you take a seat. Very good. I trust that you weren't held up too long by the delay. I know we were supposed to meet some hours ago, but something urgent came up that required me to push the meeting back.”
“Of course, ma'am,” Waleti responded as she followed instructions, lightly closing the door behind her and then perching herself on the edge of yet another uncomfortable seat. Was it possible that Hydrus had seen to switching out the normal furniture just to spite her. But no, the Enforcer Generali should have barely been aware of her, even if they had 'met' before. Still, Waleti was certain they both knew the truth of why she was here. There hadn't been any instruction for Waleti to travel to Capitol to meet with the Generali, but the unspoken rules of Enforcer political plays meant that they both would have to beat around the bush quite a bit before they came to the true reason they were meeting.
“I trust that all is well in your district. I can't say for sure, Ristart is so small and out of the way that I don't get much in the way of reports on its status,” Hydrus breezed, resting her elbows on her desk, interlacing her fingers, and topping it all off by casually resting her chin on her fingers. It was an image of schoolgrub gossiping, and Waleti refused to stoop to that level of casualness with a woman that was—against all logic and rules of loyalty—her enemy.
“Work proceeds as usual. My post is relatively quiet, and we have sufficient forces to keep up with our task of keeping the peace. That said there has been some minor issues with stalkporters prowling around the Anders hive, but they are coming to understand the necessity of privacy for well known members of our society.”
“And how did you pull that off? It's not every night that I hear someone has managed to put stalkporters in their places. It is a daymare to deal with them whenever the Empress or younger royals travel throughout the city or Seaedge.”
So they were going to be getting to the point a lot faster than Waleti had expected. Interesting. Someone as talented and experienced with the game as Hydrus had to be wasn't the kind to slip up and make her interest so plain. Unless, of course, the topic was so desperately interesting to her. Well, two could play at that game, could they not?
“The secret, of course, is to have a known, ill-tempered psionic on staff who happens to reside there. After the first, justified, display of his power, the stalkporters started to feel uncomfortable. Questions were raised at our station as to the safety of having an uncontrolled psionic running loose, so we sought to lay the public fears to rest by assuring them that the Enforcers had seen to the youth’s full training of his gift up to military standards, and that he put them to use in authorized fashions for the Enforcers. We thought they should be aware, as he was stationed as an officer of the peace at the Anders hive.”
Hydrus chuckled, truly and genuinely chuckled at the explanation, nodding eagerly all the while. “Oh, I have to give you credit for thinking outside of the block, Captain Waleti. I never would have come to such a creative solution to such a problem on my own. Then again, I do not frequently find myself with a fully trained psionic to put to use. They are not overly fond of service, at least those who train in their gifts and do not have glaring flaws with their pantal health.”
“There is nothing in particular wrong with Comtroll Captor's pantal health. He functions quite well while living with his conditions. I do believe he would be happier with medication, but as the only prescriptions that cover his condition inhibit his psionic gift he has chosen to forgo it in favor of improved service.”
“So I see,” the Generali responded with a clearly fake smile as she brushed a few strands of her long, loose hair back behind a fin. “In our line of work one must use whatever tools are available to them, I suppose.”
“Whatever tools there are, within reason,” Waleti countered, not even bothering with the smile.
“And you are of the opinion that you are in a better position than I am to determine what is within reason?”
And just like that they had reached it, the core of the matter. The reason that Waleti was here and Hydrus was clearly cross about it. The reason that they were, for the evening and maybe beyond, enemies. Odd, suddenly Waleti could not find it in herself to be bothered by the fact that she was all but throwing her career away over a troll like Sollux Captor.
“It has been said, has it not, that one outside of a situation is in a better position to judge what is necessary than one who is a captive to the situation?”
It was an old proverb, older than the current Empress, and many scholars and trolls who found themselves in the middle of the problem found that it held up well even in the modern day.
“Are you suggesting that you have a better understanding of, and perspective on, my situation? Is that why you thought it was acceptable for you to ignore my sealed orders for Comtroll Captor and came in his stead? Because, just so you are aware, I am quite seriously considering having your rank for pulling this shit.”
The words were sharp, scathing even, and were this any other situation then receiving such a dressing down from a superior would have given her pause. As it was Waleti waited for the tirade to run its course, toying with the tail of her braid the whole while, before meeting Hydrus's blazing violet eyes without even flinching.
“Forgive me for being so impertinent as to point this out to you, ma'am, but you have made some assumptions that are quite incorrect. For the first, I have not said that I am necessarily in a better position than you to deal with whatever problem has presented itself to you. I would not assume to suggest such a thing, as I lack your experience, or that of many senior members of your staff. Second, I would never violate the privacy or sacred duty represented by sealed orders from the Generali herself. I would, though, point out that such orders addressed to Comtroll Captor have not, to my knowledge, crossed my desk to be handled.”
That part was true in word, if not in spirit. The orders had not reached her desk. Instead she had been in the main officeblock area when the mail had been delivered, and when Grisok had been scowling over discovering a sealed item for Sollux Captor addressed from the Generali herself, well, Waleti had promised to see to delivering it when she went to meet with Cyclos Anders to discuss dealing with the stalkporter issue. It wasn't her fault, after all, that a whole pot of coffee had been accidentally spilled on it after it had slipped out of her hand and in to the breakblock sink.
“Finally, if the Generali feels that I have in some way failed in my duties as an Enforcer Captain, then I will accept her judgment and tender my resignation forthwith. It would be criminal of me to continue to waste the time and efforts of the Enforcers in such a manner as I have been accused of. It would be a burden upon me to seek a new line of work at this point, but I am sure that my skills are useful in the public sector in some manner.”
The scowl that Hydrus openly wore was more than enough to tell Waleti that her words had hit their mark. Yes, the Generali was clearly furious behind her designer shades, but that didn't mean that she was going to act on it. There was, after all, no proof that any of what Waleti was saying was a lie. Which was unsurprising, really, since Waleti had carefully chosen her words to ensure that Hydrus could not find fault with what she said.
“Ah, forgive me for the assumptions,” Hydrus responded through grit teeth a few moments later, her eyes narrowing. “Well then, I suppose I shall take advantage of you as an external set of eyes to my current problem, and we'll see whether I should go about sending a new set of sealed orders to Comtroll Captor. If you do not mind, of course.”
“I am quite honored that the Generali would look to someone so young and inexperienced as myself for assistance. I will render whatever I am capable of.”
“Very well then. Two nights ago I found myself approached by a very interesting individual. Of course, when I use the word 'approached' I use it loosely, as the individual only sent me a heavily encrypted e-mail that even the best of my Comtroll division is having issues cracking. The individual in question, who goes by the rather bemusing title of 'Graceful Weavings,' claims to be a member of the so-called hemohierarchist movement.”
“The hemohierarchist movement that we have been unable to prove the existence of?” Waleti questioned. It was rare for higher-ups to even discuss the potential existence of such a dangerous element in their society. Waleti... well, she had stopped being so sure that they didn't exist a long time ago. One didn't have to look far to see the symptoms that suggested the infection in their society.
“Indeed. The individual gave me details on an upcoming attack they claimed was being arranged by the group. They say that they never wished to become involved with the group, but when their family and quadrants were threatened and the Enforcers had not believed them, they had felt they had no choice but to join the organization for the sake of protecting those they loved. I am not sure I believe this story, of course.”
“Of course,” Waleti parroted back as was expected of her, even though she was certain that she would have believed the story herself.
“Unfortunately I can hardly allow myself to become involved with a mysterious individual that could just as easily be pulling a prank, or be a willing member of a terrorist organization seeking to pull Enforcer resources away from true threats. Thus I need to meet face to face with this Graceful Weavings and determine their sincerity. They have rejected the notion, leaving me no option but to crack the encryption on their communication and find them by that method.”
“Clearly,” Waleti again agreed, even though the very suggestion set her nerves on edge. The very suggestion was bordering on a true invasion of privacy, especially since the laws on going after the true identity of an anonymous informer was definitely far from resolved.
“I did a little research in to our records, and have found that Captor is by far the most experienced and qualified Comtroll, despite his age. Truly we are lucky to have his in our ranks when the private sector offers so much more to qualified individuals than we can.”
“Captor serves because he believes in his duty to better the lives of others,” she mumbled under her breath, but with the way that Hydrus smiled meant she had heard it too. Wonderful.
“Yes, and I feel it is his duty to assist us in this matter. Don't you agree, Waleti? In fact, there are many similar cases that could be handled by Comtroll Captor. Ultimately if he proves to wrap up this case satisfactorily I believe I would attempt to persuade him to transfer here to the central division.”
Central division. Waleti almost scoffed at that. It wasn't the central division that Hydrus wanted Sollux for. He presented a unique set of skills to the Enforcers. His talent with technology was unquestionable, to the point that even the world Waleti gave him was no where near enough to occupy his time. Captor had actually spent the last perigee working on a video game in the very little spare time that he possessed. Beside that there was his of his undeniably sharp mind: he possessed an intellect that cut to the core of almost any situation presented to him. If she could have moved him from being a Comtroll to being an active member of an investigation team, she would have. Both of those went without mentioning his psionic gift, which was an immeasurably useful tool in and of itself. Of course Hydrus had recognized at least some of these points on her own, otherwise she wouldn't be trying to collect him.
Collect was the proper term for it, too. Waleti was in the almost unenviable position of knowing just how true it was. Generali Hydrus was said to keep her eyes open for promising young Enforcers, who she moved to central division to not only jump-start their careers, but to make use of their unique or inspiring talents. Once Waleti had known one of those promising young trolls, a young yellowblood named Antees Pithya, who had all but been her moirail when they had been in their early training. Antees had been a cheerful, open girl who looked at the Enforcers as the ideal way to make use of her special psychic gift. Antees had been 'gifted' with the ability to see two minutes into her own future through one of her eyes, which had made movie nights quite amusing, as Antees had insisted on wearing an eyepatch to keep from spoiling things for Waleti. She had been so happy, so hopeful, so idealistic. Then Hydrus had shown up and summoned Antees out of one of their classes one night. She didn't return to their shared respiteblock that morning. Or the next. And the one after that Waleti had returned to find everything that belonged to her not-quite-rail had been removed from their block.
They'd only met one time since then, a perigee later at their graduation. She had run after Antees when it was over, demanded to know why the troll she had been certain was meant to be her moirail had abandoned her. Antees, who referred to herself as the Visionar at that point, had bluntly informed her that she bad been brought into the special unit created by Generali Hydrus, and had decided that the best way to serve was to break her ties with her past. That day Waleti had finally achieved her life's calling, at the cost of a beloved friend.
Now Waleti refused to allow Tethys to get sink her garishly fuchsia painted claws into her matesprit. She had managed to finally find the courage to claim her beloved, and she wasn't letting him go like this.
“I am not entirely sure that he would look kindly upon such an offer, ma'am.”
“And why is that?”
“You are aware of his situation, are you not?” Waleti asked, trying to breathe normally and not let her growing anger get the better of her. “Comtroll Captor has recently had an unexpected brush with the mortality of his guardian, whom he is very fond of. There was an attack, right here in Capitol, upon his guardian that he was forced to use his psionics to thwart. It caused him no end of trouble for a while, but has reinforced his desire to maintain a close personal relationship with his guardian. He has requested that his trips in to the station be limited to those times when his guardian is not in town whenever is reasonably possible.”
“We can easily move his guardian to Capitol,” Hydrus countered, waving the objection away. “I personally know the moirail of his guardian, and could see to an offer being extended for them both to relocate here.”
“I do not believe either would take up such an offer. Much of the preproduction for Cyclos Ander's new film is taking place in Ristart. I do believe they intend to do no small part of the filming outside of and around town as well.”
“Well that presents a larger problem, but not one that can't be gotten around with enough creative thinking. Plus I would point out that Captor's moirail resides here in Capitol, sweetening the deal for him.”
“Be that as it may, a commanding officer must sign off on even transfers to central, and it is my belief that my division would suffer greatly from a lack of Captor's expertise.”
The smile Hydrus was already wearing only grew at that comment, her eyes flashing as she leaned forward and her lips parted to show her teeth. A seemingly friendly gesture wrapped around a menacing one.
“Ah, but there are provisions for the emergency transfer of individuals in a situation where their commanding officer has proven to be compromised and thus prevented from making a reasonable decision regarding the well being and deployment of their forces. Such transfers only require the agreement of the Enforcer in question, the Generali, and the Generali's second. If such a method was taken, well, then the only ones with any right to complain would be his moirail, who likely would not, and his matesprit, which is nonexistent.”
“Ah, yes... Of course,” Waleti agreed, and this time it was her speaking through clenched teeth. Hydrus had her in a metaphorical corner now, and they both knew it. It was forbidden for flushed relationships to develop across such disparate ranks within the Enforcers. If, perchance, a set of matesprits joined the Enforcers together then some care was taken with their positions, and moirails were accepted within a division so long as one did not have great power over the other, but if a superior officer were to allow themselves to develop a flushed relationship with an subordinate, well, the superior's career was pretty much over.
It was one of the reasons that Sollux had accepted Waleti's insistence that their relationship be kept secret. It had, in her understanding, lead to some minor tension in his pale relationship as his moirail had taken her side in the argument, suggesting Sollux turn to the private sector for work and only serve as a consultant for the Enforcers. Together they had been unable to convince Sollux of the necessity of such a course of action. But maybe, Waleti found herself thinking, they wouldn't need to. There was more than one way, after all, to skin a meowbeast.
“Well, I suppose that is all we have to deal with. I will prepare another set of sealed orders for Mister Captor right away. Don't worry, I'll send it directly to his hive this time, so no need to worry that it might be lost in the shuffle of daily business. It was a pleasure seeing you, Captain Waleti, and I would hope you would sign off on Comtroll Captor's likely request for a transfer sooner rather than later.
“If it is presented to me, ma'am, I will handle it as is necessary.”
“Good. You are dismissed.”
Waleti rose, her legs surprisingly stiff for the fact that she hadn't really done anything with them. It was harder to pull off the salute this time, what with how her hands were trembling. All she could do was hope that Hydrus wouldn't see her barely suppressed rage.
* * * * * *
The streets of Capitol always seemed to be far too busy for Waleti's taste. Everywhere she looked there were trolls rushing about, barely even looking up from palmhusks or put down their communication devices and looked at where they were going. It was frustrating, it was confusing, it boggled the mind to think that these people could just move around and not notice how much there was out there to be seen and done and enjoyed while they went about the business that seemed so important now but was utterly worthless. Then again, the big city hadn't really been a thing that she was all that used to. Ristart was more like where she had grown up than Capitol was, though neither were quite like Sandsea. Her home had been a beautiful place, situated on the border of the seemingly limitless expanse of the Kalabar Desert, whose dunes and sands went on as far as the eye could see, all dusted with the glittering pink light of the moon. Sandsea had been somewhere between Ristart and Capitol for size, and quiet and serene in a way that couldn't quite be described.
Truth be told, if Waleti could have avoided it she wouldn't have even bothered to walk the streets now. When she had been dismissed by Tethys she had immediately returned to the temporary residency hivestem to avoid the world around her and reflect on her meeting. Unfortunately all it had managed to achieve was to frustrate her all the more. Hydrus had the upper hand, there was no denying that. The question she had been faced with was just what she intended to do about it. After all, Hydrus had been right in her own way. What right did she have to presume upon Sollux's future when she wasn't even willing to claim him as he deserved? She was a coward, the worst kind of coward, asking of him something she wasn't willing to herself.
It was with that realization and the new knowledge that Hydrus really could steal Sollux from her and she would be able to do nothing about it that had driven her from her slab. She'd hauled on the only casual outfit she had brought with her and made her way out into the night with only an address in hand and the hope that everything would turn out alright. So here she was now, trying to find her way through the confusing layout of Capitol, to escape the busy streets and make it in to what passed for residential districts here.
At last, though, she had made it here, outside of one particular hive, where she had been pacing back and forth for nearly a quarter hour. Turned out that working up one's courage was a lot harder than she'd really accounted for. She could face the most hardened criminals without flinching, but faced with a decision that might change the course of her life... Well, that was a great deal harder.
“Either figure out whether you're coming or going, or I'm calling the Enforcers,” a voice snapped from a window behind her. It was so unexpected that Waleti found herself whirling to find the source, only to be met by a wide grin on the face of a troll leaning out of the window of the hive she had been pacing in front of.
“I'm... I'm sorry to disturb you, ma'am. Would you be Ms. Terezi Pyrope?”
“Who's asking?”
Well, that was clearly as close to a straight answer as she was going to get. Still, the way that the young troll was still grinning, as wide as ever, was more than enough answer for her. So she tipped her head to the troll she was tied to by Sollux, and smiled.
“I would be inclade to her. Her moirail's matesprit, Alyssm Waleti.”
The girl's eyes widened behind her crimson tinted shades, and almost immediately she was gone from the window. Not that Waleti was even remotely worried that she would be left outside. In fact, with almost impossible speed the hive door was thrown open and the younger troll was eagerly beckoning her closer.
“You're Waleti? I should have known it. You would not believe how much Sollux can wax poetic about your horns. Of course, I'm more of an ass troll myself, but to each his own. Come on in, I'm studying for an exam, but I can spare some time. Would you like some coffee? I'm not good at making it, but Pyrali leaves some ready just in case there is company. Or, you know, I've got cherry juice pouches if you'd prefer that.”
She continued on at that pace, unrelenting, untiring, as she grabbed Waleti's arm and literally dragged her into the hive, barely taking the time to pause and slam the hive door behind them before herding Waleti in to what could only be described as some sort of receptionblock. There wasn't even time to seat herself before Terezi was all but bouncing out of the room, leaving her behind. Yet even that was only momentary, for almost immediately Terezi was back with a mug of coffee, a bowl of sugar, a small tray of finger foods, and two cherry juice pouches complete with straws. It was all pulled together so quickly that Waleti almost wondered if she had fallen asleep for a while, but Terezi's expression was the same as it had been when she'd left, and so it wasn't likely she had noticed anything.
“So, what brings you to Capitol? No, before that, why are you at my hive?”
“I suppose I am to assume that Sollux has told you about me.”
“At length for over a sweep. He had the worst kind of crush on you. I have no clue what changed things last time you two were here, but it was about time. I had actually told him about a hundred times that he should just find a job in the private sector and then approach you. But...”
“I love him very much,” Waleti cut in, selecting the mug of coffee to act as a shield between herself and her overly excited host. The statement had the intended effect, of course. Terezi quieted down and her expression softened as she looked at Waleti.
“You have no idea how comforting that is to hear. Sollux isn't... the easiest to get along with sometimes. He's all about his work. Sometimes I think we would never have been moirails if we hadn't been forced into each other's presence for nearly as long as we were. Of course, sometimes I worry he never would have been able to handle all he's been through without me around.”
“Well, if you are the reason that my chief Comtroll has been levelpanned since abandoning his medication regiment, well, then I am quite grateful.”
“It isn't me,” Terezi said with a sigh. “He's changed since that threat to his guardian. I prefer to think that it is for the better.”
“As do I,” Waleti agreed, carefully spooning sugar into her coffee. “But, if you’ll forgive me for saying it, that isn't why I'm here. Sollux has, more than once, referred to me as 'Terezi's ally' when it came to discussions about why our relationship cannot be as... open as he would desire.”
“I understand the Enforcer code,” Terezi admitted as she jabbed a straw into a cherry juice pouch. “I don't necessarily agree with it, but I understand it. And when it comes right down to it, it is more reasonable for him to abandon a rather short career for a lucrative private sector position, or even a consulting agency, than to ask you to abandon yours.”
It wasn't exactly reasonable to ask either of them to abandon something they truly cared to do with their lives, but it wasn't like there were too many other options. And so Waleti took a deep breath, not to mention a long moment to feel the heat of the coffee through the cup, and closed her eyes. Was this really what she wanted to do?
“I hardly feel it is far to expect Sollux to do something that I myself am reluctant to do. Neither of our goals should be forfeit for the other. That said, if one of us must, I begin to suspect it would be better that I...”
No, maybe that was going too far for the moment. The way Terezi was staring at her seemed to imply that. Yet, somehow, she almost felt that she had not gone quite far enough. All she had to do was think back on her run in with Tethys to worry that she was yet to go far enough. The real question was how hard she was willing to fight for her matesprit.
Then, almost as suddenly as the realization had come to her temporary respite block, the resolve to act was there, refusing to be ignored.
“None of that is important. I came here this evening for a reason,” she said, setting her coffee aside. “I came here tonight to seek your formal blessing, as Sollux's moirail, for my flushed courtship of him.”
There was something about Terezi that made Waleti certain that normally she wasn't prone to staying still. Which made the fact that the troll was staring at her, mouth hanging open, almost amusing. Certainly it would be a sight to make Sollux laugh, but she was, almost pointedly, not Sollux. All she could do was wait, tense, for a response. It didn't matter that she was certain the answer was yes. If Terezi were to refuse such an open request then she was more than welcome to stand in the way of a formal matesprit handfasting. The fact that there was even a remote chance that she'd be refused was terrifying.
“How am I supposed to say no when you to have exchanged tokens?”
“You still have the right,” Waleti reminded her, moving her hands to her lap to hide how much they were shaking. “And, so far as I know, you are the only one aware of our relationship. I intend to change that. Sollux deserves more than the secrecy we have found ourselves in. He deserves a matesprit who he can take out into the world, who can be open to show their pride in him. I want to be that matesprit, and the only way to do it is to be open.”
There was silence for a while, a silence that made Waleti want to gnaw on her lip. Waiting wasn't pleasant when what felt like her life was on the line.
“Alright,” Terezi said at last, her grin back and as wide as ever. “But if you hurt him, I'm taking a vacation from my kismesis to make your life unbearable.”
“Understood.”
* * * * * *
In the end it had taken her nearly two hours to pry herself out of Terezi's attentive company, begging that she wanted to get to sleep early so that she'd be awake for her glider back to Ristart when it came. Of course Terezi hadn't quite agreed with that idea because when Waleti had, honestly, told her the time the flight was, Terezi had laughed and said that fifteen hours was far more than enough to prepare. Still, in the end she'd been able to plead her case and escape back out into the strange hustle and bustle of the city streets to seek out a meal and to rediscover the resolve that had fled her after begging Terezi for the right to pursue Sollux. Unfortunately that purrbeast was out of the bag, and while she was certain that she didn't want to put it back, she was still terrified of just what it was going to mean for her life. There was no question that Tethys was going to have her badge for this, once she eventually found out, and then what would there be for her? No doubt she wasn't going to leave the force with a proper pension or even a recommendation.
It was with all of that running on an endless loop through her pan that she set to wandering the streets in the general direction of her temporary residency hivestem. It was because of the loop that, after a few blocks, she found herself now sitting on a surprisingly comfortable stool, staring down into a tumbler filled with a few fingers of rich amber liquid.
Barblocks weren't normally anywhere near the top ten on the list of places that Waleti spent her pre-dawn hours. In fact, they didn't even make the bottom ten. When she did find herself in one it was because an extra set of hands were needed cleaning up a brawl. Alcohol was the root of so many lesser evils of the world—lesser because truly murder and robbery had less to do with alcohol than some would care to admit—and she'd heard the cautionary tales of trolls who had grown up in broken hives, whose guardians had been drunks who abused them because they were weak and unable to protect themselves. Alcohol may not have been the root of all evil, but it certainly was a branch on the tree
Still, she sat there, staring down into her drink, trying to figure out just what she had been thinking. What had even possessed her to travel to Capitol? Shouldn't she have had faith in Sollux refusing Tethys? Was she a poor matesprit to have doubted him?
No, that wasn't it. She hadn't been thinking of his reaction at all, had she? All she'd wanted was to protect him as she hadn't been able to protect Antees. Just look where it had gotten her. His moirail was excited, her job was on the line, she didn't know how he was going to react to it all, and her career was hanging in the balance. What a wonderful night it had been.
“Surely it can't be all that bad.”
Waleti scoffed, still pondering the amber liquid. “Yeah. Maybe just the end of everything I've been working towards for sweeps. Not bad at all.”
It wasn't until the words were met with a pitying sigh that she realized that she'd actually said them, or that she was actually responding to something that wasn't just a voice in her pan. Just what she needed, some troll thinking they were going to chat her up because she had made the mistake of finding refuge in a barblock. Why couldn't some trolls just understand that sometimes people went to barblocks to escape other people, not have other people inflicted upon them.
“Okay, so maybe I'm wrong,” the voice responded. It wasn't quite pitying, but it wasn't without a touch of genuine amusement being poorly veiled behind it. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
No, she thought furiously at the interloper upon her peace. Yet there was still something in her that made her look up from the promise of the amber liquid. Maybe it was an urge to make sure that the other woman saw her disdain for company plain in her eyes. Maybe it was some kind of desire to give her a baleful glare that would send her skittering away into some corner. Or maybe it was something else entirely. Who knew how the unconscious turnings of the pan worked? All she did know was that when she did look up her eyes met a pair of cerulean eyes only faintly dusted with the black of youth. They were eyes that caught her and refused to let go.
“By all means,” she found herself agreeing as she gestured to the stool beside her and a small corner of her pan cursed her out for the action.
The younger woman didn't hesitate, merely moved to perch on the stool and then wave down the bartender. She must have been something like a regular because the tender didn't do more than glance in their direction before turning to prepare some kind of mixed drink. There was an urge, not an insubstantial one, to card the girl. After all, there was no way that someone with that much black left in their eyes was legal to drink. Yet this wasn't her jurisdiction, and for once Waleti couldn't find it in herself to care.
“Vriska.”
“Huh?”
“The absolutely artful construction of untamed troll you're so busy scoping out is named Vriska,” the young blue-eyed troll said, smiling disarmingly and holding her hand out in a way that left Waleti with no choice but to shake it. “And before you get it set in your heart to try and butter me up, I'm happily entangled.”
That wasn't hard to tell, what with the way that the solid jade ring that could only be a bond token pressed firmly against Waleti's hand as they shook. Nor was it surprising. This Vriska was an attractive young thing, and she clearly new it. The way her long, waving hair fell around her face was clearly deliberately meant to disarm and, if Waleti read it right, intimidate. Nor did it hurt that Vriska's glasses were designed such as to draw attention to her odd, seven pupilled eye. Add to that the sheer confidence that she radiated and this Vriska would be tempting to anyone who really thought about it for very long. Well, maybe not tempting. Alluring was a better word for it. Not that Waleti was buying it in the slightest. Alluring but untouchable was as deliberate of a creation for this woman as the uncomfortable and unwelcoming construction of Tethys's waitingblock. The question was just why a troll so young felt the need to create such a contradictory statement with their appearance.
“Then, forgive me for asking, just what are you doing here?”
“Blunt, aren't you?” Vriska laughed as the tender slid a tall, red filled glass down the bar toward them. Without even looking Vriska raised her fingers, curling them just enough to absorb the energy from the glass and stop it in place without upsetting it or losing a single drop of the thick liquid it held, much less shaking the leafy green stalk that stuck out of it at a jaunty angle. Interesting, Waleti thought, reflexes like that were impressive in anyone, and almost doubly so in a blueblood.
“Allow me to be equally blunt, then,” the cerulean continued, smile still in place as she lifted her drink. “You're by far the most interesting person in here. It isn't often that I come in and find someone glaring at their drink. No, maybe that isn't exactly right. They get plenty of that type here. What I should say is that it isn't often that they get someone who is glaring at their drink not because of the problems in their life, but because they don't seem quite sure what to do with it.”
“Who says I don't know what to do with it?” Waleti asked, fingering her glass. The girl was perceptive, too much so. Maybe she was one of those poor souls that Tethys had acquired over the years, some little pet sent to keep an eye on her while she remained in town. Wouldn't that just be her luck?
“Because you've been staring into that same glass for half an hour and haven't bothered to take a taste. That is quality rum you've got there, the kind that someone who orders it doesn't waste. Too warm and it loses a bit of its edge. Which tells me that when you ordered you knew you wanted something good, but you still don't know enough about liquor to truly enjoy what is offered to you, or how to properly treat it.”
“You've been watching me that long?”
“Why, is there a problem with finding you all sorts of interesting?”
Probably. Still, there was a point in what the other troll was saying, so Waleti gripped the tumbler, lifted it to her lips, and after a moment of hesitation, took the whole thing in one large gulp. It burned going down with all the fire of Sollux's touch, and all the enjoyment of flavor of week old coffee that had been rewarmed far too many times. What other trolls saw in this stuff was beyond her. But the burn was nice. The burn was almost, in a strange way, like being near Sollux.
“No,” she said, the word coming out surprisingly hoarse as she replaced the tumbler on the bar.
“Oh my, you really don't understand how to drink well. Okay, if this conversation is going to keep up we're switching you to something less potent, and less lucky to have you hacking up your dinner on my shoes later. Tender, get me a Doleful Maryarch for my friend here.”
Immediately the bartender set about making another drink, and Waleti could do little more than stare at Vriska incredulously. Just who did she think she was?
“I would hardly call myself a friend.”
“Good point!” Vriska chuckled between sips of her drink. “I can hardly claim comradeship when you haven't even given me your name. And after I'd been so courteous and told you mine. I suppose I'll have to keep that second drink for myself until you tell me what to call you.”
For a moment Waleti pondered the offer, weighing the perks of free drinks against the cons of having to continue to speak to the forward and presumptuous ceruleanblood. At last she sighed, pushed the empty tumbler away, and twisted fully on her stool to face the girl. What would it hurt? Not like she intended to ever return to this city, much less barblock, ever again.
“It's Wa...” she started, before slowly shaking her head. “Alyssm. My name is Alyssm. Thanks for the drink.”
“Alyssm? You're certain? You don't need another try? I can make this a multiple choice test if you need.”
The way Vriska smiled through it all, seeming utterly oblivious to how her words might affect Waleti, was actually enough to make her chuckle. Strange, she hadn't chuckled over something a stranger had said in a long time. So many years of keeping up a strong, commanding facade. It was almost nice to let it slip, even for a moment. The only question was just who this Vriska was to pierce through it so quickly.
“Sorry. A force of habit I believe. In my line of work I'm pretty used to going only by my last name. I haven't had someone other than my guardian or matesprit call me by my given name in sweeps.” It was almost strange to hear it said by someone other than Sollux. From him it sounded like it was being drawn out, a precious string of syllables that he refused to ever quite let go of. From Vriska it was more like an affirmation that she was something more than just the Enforcer Captain she'd worked so hard to become.
“Interesting habit,” Vriska mused as the bartender slid another deep red concoction down the bar, which was again stopped without a second glance—or a first for that matter—by Vriska. For a moment she held on to it, before smiling and sliding the glass by its base toward Waleti. “Normally you only get that sort of thing from legisticators, defendators, guidance adjustors, and enforcers.”
“Fitting, seeing as I'm the last of those.”
Much to Vriska's credit she didn't flinch, much less blink at the revelation. Instead she, quite nonchalantly, sipped at her drink as if she had been expecting the response. Another point in the column of a spy for Tethys.
“Honestly, I'm not surprised. I'm friends with a few enforcers. There's this thing about the way that they look around a room when they first enter. They appraise everyone, everything around them. You did that more than once since I arrived. One moment you're sitting there, glaring down at your drink, the next your eyes are darting around measuring up everyone like they were under-weighted sacks of flour. There's also your reluctance to talk. Adjustors treat everyone like a personal friend. Defendators are prone to trying to see the good in people, and thus don't try to look too far past the surface in case they find something they don't like. And legisticators, well, they look for signs of weakness. Enforcers look for strengths and weaknesses and weapons and ways to get out of a room, and a lot of other things. Legisticators just want to find that point where they can jab a spoon in to you and twist it just so to make you sing.”
“Someone doesn't like legisticators,” Waleti laughed, taking her drink in hand. “Bad run in with one?”
“My ex-kismesis is in training,” Vriska admitted, shrugging. “Her and her friends were all alike. Tedious, boring, and narrow-panned. But what can you do?”
“What indeed?” Waleti asked, finally lifting the glass to take a sip. Almost immediately she decided she liked the drink. There was something in the combination of what had to be tomato, the spicy kick, and the background shivers that could only come from some strong alcohol. It was a good combination, not too sweet like all the drinks Sollux favored, but far more complex than the straight rum she had been trying. Her only concern was just how strong the alcohol that was clearly present would be.
“The better question,” Vriska mused as she pulled her leafy stalk free from her drink and nibbled daintily at the red coated end of it, “is just why an Enforcer didn't demand that the tender card me before delivering my drink.”
This one was perceptive, almost dangerously so. Waleti actually had to chuckle and shake her head. “I don't guess you're going to buy that I'm off duty.”
“Nope. That ship has long since sailed. Just in case you're curious, though, the tender knows me and knows I'm just barely underage. He mixes a wicked Maryarch, though. You'll find a pretty serious difference between yours and mine, though. I ordered you a Doleful, which is the version that packs a punch. I only get the Chaste. Soon, though, soon I'm going to be upgraded, and on that night I'm buying drinks for the whole damn bar.”
“Generous of you,” she conceded, looking up briefly to meet the eyes of the tender, who had been hovering a bit closer than comfortable since the conversation had taken a turn toward with the word 'Enforcer.' She only needed a moment to look at the man's posture, the confidence in his eyes, to be certain that what Vriska was saying was true. Great, just what she needed, to be sauced up by a troll not old enough to drink herself. This was by no means the direction she had intended her night—no, it had to almost be morning now—to go.
“Yeah. I'm nothing if not generous,” Vriska laughed, shaking her head. “Now, Alyssm, mind sharing the real reason you didn't speak up? Between you, me, and these drinks, I'm not buying that you're the kind of troll that leaves protocols at the door just because you're not in uniform.”
“Should I be utterly honest with you, Vriska?”
“Oh do. Lies are so much more boring than reality.”
“I don't trust you.”
To say that Vriska laughed at the blunt statement was far beyond an understatement. Vriska just threw her head back and cackled. Strange, Waleti had never actually heard one before. Sure, you heard cackles in wiggler's shows, or from villains on programs aimed at older trolls, but never in real life. It was like this kind of sound that everyone knew was possible, in theory, but no one was quite willing to attempt in reality lest it make everyone think they were creating some diabolical plan or having some evil internal monologue. From Vriska, though, it sounded strangely natural. It sounded as if cackling had been made for this troll and this troll alone, and that she regularly indulged in it just for the sake of the sound itself.
At last the sound died away and for all that all the eyes in the block were on them, Vriska smiled at her as if nothing had happened. She did a little flip of her hair and shook her head.
“Well, you really are pretty blunt, aren't you? I can respect that, and understand it I guess. Here, will this help?”
Vriska's hand disappeared into a pocket for a moment, then returned bearing a card that she happily handed over. For a moment Waleti stared at it in confusion, before she finally took it and examined what it offered as a truth. Vriska Serket, manager of a set of production facilities if the card was to be believed. Not that she believed it, Vriska was clearly far too young to have such responsibility thrust upon her.
“And what is this supposed to prove?”
“I just love the minds of Enforcers. You take everything with a grain of salt and it's fun to prove the truth. You could call the number listed, but you'd hardly believe that, I guess. Easily faked if sent through an answering device. The email says nothing. I could take you to the facility if you need. Or, oh, how about this.”
Again the hand disappeared and returned, this time holding out a keyring. “For my facilities.”
Vriska held the keys out, the ring hooked on a single finger, and didn't move until Waleti held out her hand to catch them. It wasn't much, but Waleti did take the chance to inspect the larger keys on the ring. They definitely belonged to some heavy duty locks, the kind that typically weren't used in hives. It didn't prove anything, but it was an interesting point in Vriska's favor.
“Oh, that is not the face of someone who's satisfied with my evidence. Fine then, believe me or don't. I'm bored. Tired of proving myself.”
That, more than anything, made Waleti smile and shake her head. She was giving up too easily. An Enforcer spy from Tethys would have tried harder. There was a genuine lack of care from Vriska that was more than enough to win her over. It didn't answer the question of just who the younger troll was, but it relieved some of the tension.
“You're an interesting troll, Vriska Serket.”
“I really do try,” she laughed around a mouthful of leafy stalk.
“I can tell. The short answer to your question is that I can't be bothered to stop every potential under-aged drinker.”
“And the long?”
“Get me another one of these Doleful Maryarchs and maybe I'll tell you.”
It took five drinks and two more barblocks before Waleti found herself nursing a hot cider mixed with something harder at a corner table in a slightly more upscale bar. The solar protection garments they'd borrowed from the first barblock—Vriska knew the tender better than she had admitted, and had sweet talked him out of spares they could use and Vriska could return later—hung from the backs of the other two chairs, a quiet but effective buffer against joiners. Of the two of them Vriska was by far the more clearheaded of the two, but Waleti was certain that she was barely more than buzzed by the point, seeing as the drinks weren't too strong and she'd been taking them relatively slowly.
For all of that, though, the conversation had long since taken a more serious turn. Casual banter in the first barblock had turned to serious discussion of matesprits, to the problems with their lines of work, to the desire to be involved in something bigger, to the here and now where Vriska was frowning pretty seriously into her cider and clearly trying to figure something out.
“What's wrong? It's not like you to take so long to decide something.”
“You've known me for hours,” Vriska countered, half smiling as she looked up. “You don't really know me enough to quite know what I'm normally like.”
“Sometimes you don't have to know someone long to know what they are like,” Waleti countered, warming her hands around her cider.
“Yeah. I guess not. Which is what makes this so hard.”
Waleti just shook her head, leaned back in her chair, and rolled her eyes. “Don't be dramatic. Out with it.”
“Fine. But remember, you asked for it. The problem, Alyssm, is that you're perfect.”
“I've already told you, Vriska, I have a matesprit and I love him desperately. I have no intention of...”
“Don't get ahead of yourself. You're pretty and all that, but I'm not about to wax poetic about your horns.”
In any other situation the comment wouldn't have so much as raised her eyebrow. Any other night she might have even gone so far as to laugh at the very idea. But this hadn't been the first time someone had referenced waxing poetic about her horns. The last time it had been from Terezi, in reference to Sollux. This time...
“I'm not the first person to say that, am I?” Vriska suddenly asked, her expression falling. “Wonderful, just wonderful. Not exactly a common thing to say, but there we go. Sometimes I've got luck, sometimes it's impossible to find.”
“Vriska...”
“You know how I was talking about wanting to do something more than just make plastics and clothing and all that stuff? Well, truth of the matter is that I'm kind of prone to that. Doing more than what I should. Trying to get people to do more than they might think they should.”
This time Waleti didn't respond. All she did was give Vriska that look she normally reserved for her time in an interoxaminationblock. It usually made trolls flinch, made them want to spill everything. Vriska, to her credit, only smiled at the look.
“I'm going to tell you anyway, so give me a minute. This isn't exactly something that I was anywhere near prepared to do when I found you earlier. But really, I should have expected it, after everything I've heard about you.”
“Heard from whom?”
Vriska smirked and shook her head. “I'm not sure you'd believe me, not just yet. I guess I should start from the beginning. I was raised by the worst kind of guardian, you know? He was a hemohierarchist, and don't try to tell me they don't exist. He tried to teach me I was better than my wardmates. He tried to tell me a lot, not that I bought any of it. Anyway, let's just say he was pretty hard on my wardmates, and when the chance came to put that ass in jail for what he did, I leapt at it, though subtly. I used my wards to achieve my ends, because otherwise I knew that my guardian's friends would have been after my blood. They weren't exactly complex trolls. Unfortunately they still wanted to know why I did what I did, and before I could make sense of any of it, I was suddenly a member of the hemohierarchist movement, not because I wanted to be, but because it was the only way to protect the people I cared about.”
“You're the one that sent General Hydrus the message.”
For the first time that night Vriska's eyes went wide with genuine shock. “You know about...”
“I came to town because Hydrus was trying to use my matesprit to crack your codes, to find out who you were. But I won't let her wrap my matesprit up the way she has so many others.”
“He sounds like a great guy,” Vriska smiled, shaking her head. “Anyway, the truth of the matter is that for a while now I've been trying to work against the movement from within. For the longest time I only did little things. I helped where I could. But I'm not running on that approach anymore. It all changed when I met a troll who figured out who I was. That I was this ghost that was being whispered about. He came to me to help him save someone he loved, and from that moment, my life changed. I changed. I wasn't just some troll trying to help where I could anymore. I was the center of something far larger. A group that strives to stop the hemohierarchists because the Enforcers, no offense, can't seem to do it.”
Waleti just scoffed. “You'd be right. Hard to go after a problem that won't show its face publicly.”
“To catch those who skulk in the shadows, one has to walk the shadows themselves.”
“And you want me to help you.”
“And why wouldn't I? You're smart, you understand the system, you hate what you see is happening, and you've clearly grown disillusioned with your line of work.”
“It's hard to believe when you see the methods Hydrus uses.”
“Trust me, the other side isn't too much better.”
“And you?”
Vriska toyed with her drink, once more clearly trying to come to some kind of conclusion. “I'm more of a spider in a web. I watch. I wait. When something gets caught in the web I feel the tugging, and set out to deal with it.”
“Sound like a lot of work for only one person,” Waleti mused, leaning back in her chair.
“Like I said, I'm part of a group. I may be a spider in the web, but I'm only one. Granted I'm a large one, nearly the center of it all, but this is too big for one troll.”
“Then why do it?”
This time when Vriska met her eyes, it was with a grin on her face. “Because one day I saved a troll that no one else believed was at risk. And when I tried to walk away, the troll who asked for my help didn't. Instead he wove something I didn't know how to handle. Something I hadn't imagined. Connections are power in this world, and he could make them. It's only just starting, this thing that we're building, and every step of the way we realize just how much more we need. And honestly, Waleti. I think we need you. Trolls like you are what can save this world.”
“Quite a recruitment speech you've got there,” Waleti said, shaking her head. “Give me one reason not to haul you to Hydrus right now?”
“Because you have a glider to catch,” Vriska laughed, rising from her seat and collecting one of the solar protection garments. “Because you've got a matesprit to go home to. But most of all, because you're tired of letting him down.”
“And how would dragging you in let him down?”
“Because he hates lying to you. He's tired of hiding. Tired of feeling like he's letting you down. Not that he ever has, I think. Disappointed you, maybe. But let you down, no. The only thing he's really failed you in is thinking that you wouldn't be with us if you know.”
Waleti could do nothing but watch as Vriska pulled the garments on with practiced ease. Nothing she was saying made sense. And yet, at the same time, it all made perfect sense.
“He's born to lead people. Empress help me, I don't know where he's leading us to, but he's going to lead us somewhere better than this, Waleti. I can't help but think it would be better for him if he didn't have to do it alone. As much as he denies it, Sollux isn't much of one for being alone.”
“I don't...”
“You understand perfectly fine,” Vriska disagreed as she buttoned up the garment and pulled on gloves. “But if you want to keep pretending you don't, go home and talk to him. Tell him that you met the spider queen and she wants him to tell you about the web we spin. And when he gets past tripping over his own tongue and tells you everything, tell him you're with us. That you won't let him down. Because I know you won't.”
“I don't believe you,” Waleti heard herself saying, her voice barely a whisper.
“No,” Vriska laughed, slipping a pair of shades over her glasses. “The problem is that you do. And what it means scares you. That will pass too. When it does, give me a call.”
“Vriska!”
Too late. The cerulean had already turned away and was striding out of the barblock, leaving Waleti alone with her denial and her thoughts.
And the realization that so much of the last few perigees now made perfect sense.
The only question was how she was going to approach this with Sollux. Something told her it was going to be an emotional conversation. As she pulled on the solar protection gear—she'd have to have the main desk of the temporary residency hivestem deliver it to Vriska's production facility—she realized that she almost couldn't wait to see what would come of it. Looked like she was going to have to find an excuse to see Sollux as soon as she got back to Ristart. She wanted to be there as much to hold her matesprit in her arms and promise to be what he deserved as to find out just what Vriska meant.
fangirlandthreequarters replied to your post: Okay, I could totally use some writing warm up....
Eridan and Kanaya paleflirting non-sgrub AU finger kisses pls
Oh god, you're killing me here. I have to follow up writing Eridan with writing Kanaya hating him. Okay, let's see if I can do this...
"What are you doing?"
He doesn't answer right away, because of one of his stupid little power plays. Everything with him is about the proper order of things. In his mind he is superior. A violet who is deigning to spend time with her. She is but a midblood, she should feel graced by his presence. So he makes her wait, lets her realize it every time they talk.
At last he smiled, tilts his head back just so in her lap so that he can stare up at her, and he grins with his too-sharp seadweller teeth.
"Counting to a billion," he declares, stupid smile still on his face.
"And what is that supposed to achieve?" Kanaya asks, frowning down at him with her best disapproving frown.
"Buy me more time in your presence. As if you would dare risk my anger by moving me."
Removing him was more like it. Still, he's right. She won't move him. Not because she is worried that he'll punish her for such presumption. Not because she worries about him being upset. No, she lets him stay there because she knows as much as he does that she likes it when he smiles up at her stupidly and she covers his mouth to keep him from saying something equally stupid. And every time he kisses her fingers and she can't help but laugh.
So she covers his mouth with her hand and his eyes dance with amusement.
