Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1. Seer of Mind
(Post-retcon, <> Vrisrezi on the meteor)

You traced the rough grey fabric of your moirail’s coat. Her Thief of Light outfit was much softer, though she almost never wore it anymore. Only when she flew, but even that she could do without the orange-creamsickle clothes. The two of you were sitting on one of the couches in the library. Vriska was resting her head on yours, her luscious black hair tickling your neck. ‘Terezi…’ she mumbled.

‘Mmh?’

‘Your horn pricks in my skin.’

You shifted your head. She fell on your shoulder with hers. Now her horn was pricking in your skin. But that was fine. You moved again, flipping your legs sideways over the couch. Now she fell with her body on your lap. ‘Hey!’ she said. ‘What was that for?’ Her eight pupils glared at you from under her dark eyebrows. ‘You restless, Pyrope?’

‘A bit,’ you answered, cupping her face with a hand. ‘I can't help but wonder what could have happened if I had god-tiered? You know, as a fully realized Seer of Mind.’

‘So that's what you break your sorry head about?’ Vriska softly pushed her head against your hand.

It had been on your mind for some time. Maybe you had been able to stop everyone from going insane, after the twelve of you had been stranded on the meteor. Perhaps you could have prevented the deaths of Equius, Nepeta and Feferi. And you could have talked some sense into Vriska, before she'd killed Tavros. You knew she was sorry and quite sad about that whole escapade. One of the first things she had confessed when you became moirails. The third night of your moirallegiance, she'd come to your respriteblock in the meteor and you had talked until the morning. Well, you had mostly talked to her. After a great deal of shooshpaps and assuring her that she really wasn't weak, she'd calmed down a bit. Then you had heard the actual story from her. Tavros had decided, not completely unreasonably, that she needed to stop being such a jackass to everyone else. He’d attacked her, and instead of dodging him and settling down, she'd sort of snapped and had ran him through with his own lance. One quote of hers during that night still lingered in your head: “I'm just another cobalt blood. Too violent for my own good. What… what if I'm too dan-”

You hadn't let her finish her sentence. Too many shooshpaps and a hot cup of that gross coffee from the machines later, she had finally calmed down and accepted that she could always meet up with Tavros in the dream bubbles.

‘Don't sulk about that.’ Vriska said. You snapped out of your thoughts. ‘What would have made you better if you god-tiered? I know for a fact that it would have healed your eyes. That wouldn't be good, now would it?’

You shuddered by the thought. The sensations you would get from seeing and smelling the world at the same time would surely send your brain into overdrive. Vriska apparently sensed your discomfort. She swiftly picked your glasses off and stroked the skin under your blind eyes. Now you were the one leaning into her hand. ‘That would have terrible consequences, you're right.’

‘Furthermore, you can already read everyone here like an open book, so what benefits would a fancy green dress and laced shoes have?’

‘I'd be more powerful with my fraymotifs,’ you suggested.

‘Like you need those, you're already scarily good with that cane, and-’

The door clicked open. Walking into the library was the elegant figure of Kanaya Maryam.

Vriska perked up from your lap. ‘Hey Fussyfangs! Is Lalonde still grouchy?’

The Sylph turned towards her. You could smell her pissed-off demeanor. ‘No, she is not “grouchy”. She is very upset about the fact that you made a complete mess out of her room. Or her respriteblock, whatever you prefer.’

‘Pfft,’ your moirail huffed. ‘Oh please, what did I do now?’

Kanaya came closer. You were a little afraid that she would get her chainsaw out. ‘I think that throwing those bottles against the wall and calling her a “soporific substance addict” has not helped her as much as you want to believe.’

‘Come on, we can't have her go down the Gamzee-path.’ Vriska now jumped off the couch. ‘She won't listen if you just tell her to stop alchemizing that shit!’

‘Eh, could you please… stop?’ you carefully said. None of them listened. You knew Kanaya was tall enough to just look down at Vriska. And from the quick stripes of pavement grey you smelled, it seemed like the Thief was pricking her in the chest.

‘Next time I see her drink that junk, I'll throw all of it in the first load gaper I see!’ she yelled. ‘Aaaaaaaall of it!’

You got up and pulled Vriska away from the rainbow drinker. ‘For Gog’s sake, stop yelling!’ Shoving her onto the couch again, you said to the still enraged Kanaya: ‘I'm sure we can think of a way to make Rose stop drinking human soporifics without ruining her respriteblock again. Perhaps Dave knows what to do, he has known her longer than any of us.’

Kanaya went to see the Knight. And you sighed deeply when sitting down again. ‘That… wasn't necessary.’

Vriska threw her jacket on the floor in front of her and crossed her arms. She said something muffled about stupid lousy no good jadebloods. Then she turned to you again. ‘See? That's what I mean. Being a Seer of Mind with a dumb green dress doesn't make you better in… in calming the whole bunch down. Or in doing whatever a Seer is supposed to do. Making logical decisions or any of that nonsense. You're the most rational person I know already.’

You still had your doubts. ‘Before Rose became like this, she said that Seers act like guides. Who have I ever guided? What kind of guiding have I done in our session?’ With a snap of your fingers, you un-captchalogued your cape. The hood drooped over your eyes. Thinking about it, the hood of Rose’s outfit was about as big.

‘Why do you always ponder so much, Terezi?’ Vriska pulled you into an embrace. ‘You're fine as you are. The rest of the whole Seer-nonsense is bullshit. We already have one, Lalonde, and she's… supposed to be choosing the most fortunate path through the furthest ring. And you make sure we don't lose our minds again.’

With a tiny sharp-toothed smile, you reached behind your back to pick up a corner of your cape. Folding it around the both of you, you agreed with her. ‘I guess that is a good thing. Even though I could see that as “guidance of your minds”.’

‘Can it, Pyrope.’

You smelled a blueberry blush on your moirail’s face.

‘Don't overdo it,’ she said. ‘That's my job.’

~

That's my job…

It was. It was totally her job. It was so her job, to storm off to the dreambubbles. To think that she was capable of overdoing it so much. To attempt to stop Lord English with an army of rounded up spirits of the doomed timelines. A ghost of a god-tiered Nepeta shoots past you. Helplessly flailing, she gets sucked into the black hole. Just like so many before her. You turn your dragon-winged jetpack up a notch to resist the pull. It seems like you've flown around the black hole for years. And still you haven't found her. One time, only once, you've seen a god-tiered version of yourself. She had dark circles under her healed eyes, a permanent snarl on her face and cursed the living hell out of you before disappearing into the black hole. That hadn't been a pleasant encounter. A soft beep sounds from your pocket. John asks if you are okay. His goofy smile makes you feel a little better. You snap a picture of your surroundings and send it to him. “Okay” isn't the best word to describe how you feel now.

You smell a flicker of orange in the swirling black and green mass. Swooping closer, you're just in time to see a doomed Rose get sucked in. She was wearing Dave’s shades and a fedora. You try what you've tried at least 413 times. From the top of your lungs, you scream: ‘VR1SK4!!’

No reply, as usual. Coughing, you catch your breath. An Aradiabot flies over your head, you smell the mess of wires that her torn metal chest is. Maybe she helped you once fight the Black King. You have no feeling of sadness anymore. Aradiabots are the most common things you see here. You circle as close to the black hole as you can without getting pulled in. A little spot on your left side gets your attention. It's not moving towards the black hole. You fly over to it. As you get closer and closer, you smell the creamsicle of the Light outfits. Your heart jumps when you smell the blueberry wings, fluttering feebly. Never did you know that god-tier wings act even when the god in question doesn't seem to be conscious. When you firmly grab your Moirail's hand, her eyes flick open. ‘I got you, finally I got you!’

She looks up to you, seemingly too tired to speak. You see her wings stop fluttering. A sudden pull from the void in front of you makes her hand slip from yours. With a cry, you throw yourself forward, grabbing her hood and tunic. She hangs on to your hair with the little strength she has left. That hurts, but you flip over in the air and turn your jetwings up to their highest level. Shooting away from the black hole now, you swing Vriska sideways, so you can put one arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders. A fanged smile is on her lips now. Softly, she says: ‘Do you… remem8er me?’

A question you didn't expect. ‘Of course, I wouldn't have searched for you if I didn't. Now shoosh, we'll get home soon.’

‘Home… you succeeded? I never expected you bunch of idiots to actually c-create a new… universe.’

She's tired, you feel that because of the way she lets herself hang slack in your arms. You hope she isn't injured. You hope that the dreambubble with the fenestrated wall from which you came is still intact. You hope to get to Earth C soon. But hope you have. In fact, it was long ago you've felt this hopeful. You think back to what Vriska once said. That you didn't need to be a fully realized Seer of Mind to be powerful. You hug Vriska softly, as much as you can while flying. Even without god-tier level power, you fought two Jacks, without dying, even though Dave and Dirk were more powerful, in your opinion. And now, you're guiding someone home.

Chapter Text

2: Colors

In my eyes,

Cherries are blood

Knights, time and Nakkodiles

Licorice is a classy suit

Can't unsmell it anymore

Printed at my brain's core

I dreamed in honey-gold

Opposed by sour grapes

Sky, glaze, lime and creamsicle cold

Saved us for interspieces' sakes

Graceful apple and clever orange

Of quadrants, surely no shortage

Then the world exploded in light

The Sylph in blue, hands to the head

I can't resist him, even with all of my might

How can a rainbow of flavors be this bad?

Fire smells like cherries nor ice cream

Oh, how I wish this pain was a dream

Where are you,

My fairy of blueberry?

We're wandering without a clue

In these bubbles, alone and wary

I've got no blood on my shirt, no cane in my flesh

But it's you I'm looking for, somewhere in this mess 

Chapter Text

3: Scourge Sisters

(Three solar sweeps before the events of Homestuck)

It’s still running after you. You thought you’d lost your assailant by diving head over heels into the thick scrubs. Now all you’ve gotten out of your brazen move are scratched open hands and knees. You’re beginning to tire. With ragged breathing you run on. There is a brook somewhere over here, maybe you could lose your cling-on if you dive into the water. For a split second you look over your shoulder. Your attacker is panting too, it won’t be long until the both of you are out of energy.

‘H-hey! Stand still! Don’t make this so hard!’

The surprise hits you so hard that you slow down a bit. You didn’t expect such a young voice from the one who’s chasing you. And most certainly not a girl’s voice either. The last sentence makes you doubt. That’s enough for you to almost come to a stop. Within a second, she’s on top of you. A flash of metal rakes your cheek. Biting through the pain, you slam your knees into her stomach and fling her off you. Now you’re the one who’s pinning her to the ground. ‘Why did you attack me?’ you inquire.

‘You think I’ll tell you? Shut up, you filthy lowblo-’ she stops in the middle of her sentence. Wriggling one hand out of your grip, she shakily points at your face. ‘You… you’re teal…’

‘Yeah, what if I am?’ You grab her hand again and pin both arms above her head. You feel the bones shift in her wrist and she cries out. ‘Now why did you chase me? Tell it or I’ll  break them!’ With those last words you knead her wrists again.

Her eyes have become big in fear as she says: ‘No, p-please don’t… I just need to- to feed my lusus.’ After a shaky breath and an attempt to get you off her, she adds: ‘And I never kill anyone above olive, I swear!’

So that’s what a lusus needs? To be fed with other trolls? For the first time in your three-sweep life, you’re happy that you don’t have one. Of course, that doesn’t take away the hunger in your stomach or your dry throat. Slowly, you let her go and offer her a hand. She accepts, pulls herself to her feet, dusts off her clothes and puts the dagger between her belt. You see her sign now, deep cobalt blue. Looking down at your own shirt, you see that your sign is so faded that you could just as well have been an oliveblood. Or a really poor indigo, since it’s not really teal-colored anymore. The cobalt-blooded girl sees you looking. Some concern sounds in her voice as she says: ‘That’s not safe, you know? You’ll get culled if anyone sees you with that, I can’t even see what color it is.’

‘And what do you think, that I wear this for fun?’ you snap. It didn’t have to sound so angry, but you can’t really help it. When she steps closer to you, you inch back automatically. But she softly grabs you shoulder.

‘No, of course not. Hey-’ She squeezes your upper arm now. ‘You’re really skinny, you know?’

‘That’s mean, whoever you are.’ Another thing you don’t need to be reminded of.

‘I’m Vriska Serket. Your name?’

‘Terezi… Pyrope. And stop that!’ You swat away her hand, which had traveled to your ribcage. She begins to say that she really didn’t mean to hurt you, since you’re a tealblood and all that, as you stop her in the middle of her long-winded sentence. ‘Yes, you already said that. Because you need to feed your… lusus. Do I need to do that too?’

‘What? No! Only some lusii require that of their wigglers. Say, I sure hope yours isn’t like that.’

Now she’s struck a painful point. You shift your jaw and avert your head, you don’t want her to see you cry. For a young cobaltblood, she’s quick. Before you’ve managed to turn away from her, she’s almost nose to nose with you again. You look down at her bright red shoes and at your own, faded brown and too small. When she’s standing so close, you see that she clearly isn’t a tramp like you. She has healthy full cheeks, her eyes are sparkling and her arms aren’t bony like yours.

‘I’m sorry, okay?’ she says, stretching the first o. ‘I’m sorry again. Jeez, you’re a bit of a crybaby.’

‘Would you be one if you didn’t have a lusus?’

That clearly takes her aback. She stutters for a second before asking if you’re joking. The first teal tears welling up in your eyes are enough of an answer for her. ‘Alright… no wonder you’re looking so bad. Where’s your hive? I’ll get you some food from mine!’

No one has ever offered something like that to you. ‘Eh… it’s the tallest tree in the forest, not that far from here. Should I show you?’

As she’s following you through the forest, you’re not really sure what to say next. Vriska seems nice enough, to offer you food like that and not pounce at you now that your back is turned to her. ‘There’s a thick root over there, don’t trip,’ you point out as you step into the clearing by your hive. At the trunk of the tree, you pull the both of you up by the counter-weight system. After warning her that it’s a huge mess inside, to which she says that she never cleans up too, you open up the trapdoor at the roof.  A “mess” is a bit of an understatement. Since you don’t like spending time in your hive, it’s littered with trash. Scraps of whatever food you could find, such as bones from the animals you try to hunt, dirty clothing and earth from the forest are spread throughout your respriteblock. Vriska makes a comment on the smell. You gruffly reply that you never do anything in here except sleep.

‘Hey! You don’t have a coon!’ is her next sentence.

‘I can’t buy sopor slime, it’s too expensive.’ You gesture uselessly at a pile of assorted blankets and pillows in a corner, that’s where you sleep. ‘But weren’t you going to get food? I’ll try to clean up a bit while you get it.’ Maybe there’s a little too much hunger in your voice, you think. But Vriska grins.

‘Sure, and I’ll get some other… stuff too. I think I know a way for you to get some more money. You don’t know how good sopor feels,’ she says before heading up to the roof again. You let her down with the counterweight and when she races away through the forest, she turns back three times to wave at you. Once inside, you overlook your respriteblock. Firstly, you decide, you’ll try to get the food scraps out of there. Grabbing a sack from your storage, which is painfully empty, you start to fill it with the mess. There isn’t much that still looks remotely edible, since the times you’ve tried to stock up on some reserves didn’t really work out. You ate everything within a few days. A half-empty packet of dry grubcrackers, the only thing you can buy most of the time, and a single fruit from the forest is all that stays on the table in the middle of the room when you’re finished. You stuff the garbage bag down a pipe in the tree. The waste collection droids will get it out of there soon. Then you open up all of your windows to let the wind blow through your hive and maybe get rid of the stale smelling air. Next is your husktop and the few lamps you have. It’s at least two perigees ago that you’ve used electricity, and you’re quite surprised when the husktop still works. The big T on the backside blinks up green. Trollian is still opened up on the screen, from the last time you’ve used the device.  It still shows that one conversation you had with that CG-guy. Then you open up your closet, cough at the dust that comes out of it and take out your cape. It’s bright red, with a dragon snout and two buttons as eyes. It looks a bit goofy, but you made it when you where a single sweep old.  It’s warm and in the dark equinox, you wrap in around you at night to try not to feel the biting cold. Not that that works. When you grab two cracked food plateaus and place them on your now-clean table, Vriska’s voice calls out from the base of the tree. ‘Terezi! I’m going to send the food and stuff up first! You ready?’

Hurrying to the top of the hive, you yell back that you’re ready as can be. The packet she sends up feels as least as heavy as you, and you’re glad that the counterweight makes it easier to pull up. She yells at you to hurry up, just when you’ve got the bag off the rope. Next up is the troll. When she’s on the roof, she looks down. ‘It’s really… high up.’

‘Don’t look down then, you’ll get dizzy and fall off,’ you say.

As you get back inside, Vriska kicks off her shoes and helps you haul the bag to the table.  You can’t help but gasp when you unpack it. There’s probably enough food to sustain you for an entire perigee.  Vriska quickly stocks up your thermal hull, you just stand by the table and gawk at the food for a good amount of time. A pinch in your arm startles you out of your amazement.

‘Dig in! It’s of no use to just stand there and look at it. The food’s not going to walk into your protein chute.’ Vriska plops down on a chair and cuts off a good portion of grubloaf for herself.  You help yourself to it too, and she raises her eyebrows at how much you stuff into your mouth. And probably at the fact that you’re eating it without anything else. And at the crumbs flying everywhere. ‘I got mhno manners, I know.’ It’s a bit hard to talk with the food in your mouth. She laughs, loud and breathy.

‘Yeah, you look like a cholerbear after it’s hibernation.’

After you’ve eaten, taken a warm shower (which you have to explain that you almost never did since you don’t like coming into your hive) and put on an almost fresh set of clothes, you crash into your blanket pile. Vriska gets a book from her bag and shows it to you:

HANDBOOK FOR FATAL-LIVE-ACTION-ROLE-PLAYING

‘Or just FLARP,’ she says. ‘It’s a good way to get money.’

She explains the basics to you. It all comes down to the facts. You have to create a character.

‘I’ve already got two. First my Spidersona. And I’m working on a second one.’

Then you team up with someone, she suggests herself for this, and go on so-called campaigns against other teams. If you win, you get rewards, both money and other treasures, like costly items or weapons. If you lose… well…

‘You’ve got a change of dying,’ Vriska explains. ‘But if you’ve got me on your team, the campaigns will be a breeze.’

FLARP. You like the idea. To your question if you can be a dragon, she sadly says no. It has to be a more or less troll-like character. She starts to tell about the one she’s building now. Her name is Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, and she’s basically the most awesome person ever.  According to her, she really lived once, sweeps and sweeps ago. Now Vriska has a journal of this Gamblignat, and she’s supposedly her descendant. ‘That’s a real honor, you know? Like, having a super cool pirate like that as ancestor!’

It sounds pretty cool, you have to admit. Talking about FLARP, treasures and more, you eventually feel pretty drowsy. You gather a bunch of blankets around you with one big sweep of your arms and nestle deeper into the pile. Vriska covers herself up too. And you feel different. There’s not that eerie feeling in you that you always had when you were in your hive. The feeling that something essential was missing. As you turn to your newfound friend, because that’s how you’re calling each other now, she slings her arm over your chest. It hits you in the eye and she complains: ‘Urgh, there’s no place on you that’s not sharp and bony. Even your face is like that.’

‘Can it…’ you mumble. She grabs your sharp and bony shoulder and yawns. Her eyes glisten in the faint light. ‘Hey… your eye’s… a bit… weird,’ you say.

‘My vision eightfold? That’s not weird, that’s super duper cool.’ She puts her hand on the side of her head. ‘I’ve got powers, Terezi. Mindy powers.’ She squeezes her right eye shut. You see the seven little pupils contract in the other one. With somewhat of a huff she drops her hand again. ‘Oh man, I wanted to show you…’

‘Show me what?’

‘My mind control. I could’ve made you do a silly dance, or… or stick your head into your load gaper.’

You can’t keep yourself from laughing. ‘If you can do that…’

‘No, that’s my point. Your mind… it’s like a maze. I can’t control you.’ She softly punches you in the arm. Then shakes her hand. It’s sharp and bony, you bet.

The next morning, when you see her off, she suggest that you come to her hive as quick as you can. So you two can work on a character. ‘There must be something you like, so you can be that,’ she says. ‘Something else than dragons.’

‘Justice,’ is your answer. ‘I like the law.’

She hands you a little piece of paper, “arachnidsGrip”, it says.

‘My trollian name. What’s yours?’

‘gallowsCalibrator.’

Saying that she’ll remember that one, you walk her up to the roof. ‘I’ll send you something about the Law or justice or the courtblock today. A friend of mine’s a bit of a bookgrub. Her trollian name is grimAuxilliatrix, maybe you can contact her too. She’ll also send us all the fabric we’ll need for our costumes. All of it!’

That day, you indeed receive a document from her. “The customs and laws of the Alternian Legislacerators”, it says. It’s a scanned book, apparently.

Three days later

You run up to her hive. She’s sent you the location via trollian. As promised, she’s waiting for you where the scrubland that’s the outskirts of the forest ends. It’s a short walk to her castle from there. She points out her closest neighbor’s hive. A weird square tower with lost of repaired bits. ‘Zahhak’s hive. Odd guy, indigoblood, if I’m correct. Sometimes I hear explosions from there.’

‘Pfft, maybe I should be happy I live alone in a tree.’ You walk alongside her.

Suddenly there’s a gap in front of you. You were looking at the tall building in front of you when there’s no ground under your feet. With a scream, you fall. Managing to grab Vriska’s ankle, you almost pull her down too. She throws herself backwards and your left leg scrapes along the rock. ‘Aaaah! Help, please!’

‘I got you.’ Vriska grabs the hand that’s locked around her leg with both hands. ‘Don’t fall.’

‘Of course not, I-‘

A low hiss sounds below you. You turn your face to the bottom of the pit you fell in. With another scream, you look back to Vriska. ‘What is that?!’

‘That would be my lusus, now don’t you dare to let go, Pyrope,’ she says. With some effort, she pulls you up. The white spider in the pit hisses threateningly again. You’re absolutely sure of the fact that it wants you for a meal. As Vriska shakily pulls you to your feet, you wince when you land on your leg.

‘Please don’t say it’s broken, then we’re deep in the shit.’ Vriska now forces you down again. When you sit, resting on your stretched arms behind you, she prods hard in your leg. You cry out, but nothing feels broken. ‘Can you stand on it?’

‘I think so…’ You grab her shoulders for support and slowly walk to her hive.

‘I should’ve told you about that pit. Like: watch out for the gigantic spider that wants to eat every troll on Alternia and probably it’s moons too if it could. I’m really sorry.’

‘Nah-’ you pat her on the arm. ‘- you pulled me up.’

Once inside, she gets out a medical kit and bandages your leg. Then you two sit down in a comfy pile of pillows (made especially for you, according to Vriska). She hands you the real version of the book she send you. ‘Found anything you like?’

‘There’s this one woman… on the portraits of the Legislacerators, that were made once every two sweeps, she looks a lot like me.’ You skip to the end of the book. ‘There.’

‘Let’s see… the third one from the right on the second row…’ Vriska traces the names at the bottom of the page. Only the titles of the trolls are mentioned, not their actual names. ‘Neophyte Redglare. Hey, wait a second…’ Her eyes widen in some kind of shock. She gasps and looks from the picture to you and back. ‘She does really look like you. Her sign is yours, she was a tealblood too, her horns are the same shape… even her hair fans out like yours… no, this can’t… Terezi…’ The silence between you is really grave and you start to wonder if there’s something wrong. ‘I think she’s your ancestor.’

You start to laugh. ‘Can’t be true, she’s so… cool. And a Legislacerator, and-’

‘No, you don’t get it! Listen, that Mindfang I’m making a character from, remember her? Yes? Good. I’ve seen a few pictures of her. Painted portraits just like these-’ She taps on the page. ‘And she shared my sign, blood color and horns too. This can’t be a coincidence!’

You swear you hear tears in her voice. When she slowly shuts the book and tries to crawl deeper into the pillow pile, she whispers: ‘And Mindfang killed Neophyte Redglare.’

‘I don’t get what you’re so upset about. So what if your ancestor killed mine? What in the world does that even mean for us?’ You try to get closer to her to comfort her, but she only tries to drown herself deeper in the pillows.

‘Don’t you get it, Terezi? Has your… oh wait, you don’t have a lusus, of course… You’re supposed to tread into the footsteps of your ancestors! Oh god… oh no, no, no, no! I just saved your life! Should I have pushed you down instead?’ She now buries her face into a pillow and you see her shoulders shock in silent sobs.

‘Hey, uh-’ you say. ‘Who even believes that nonsense? Why do we have to? If we’re going to be Redglare and Mindfang in FLARP, couldn’t we just make them friends?’

With some effort, you manage to separate Vriska’s face and the pillow. It’s now stained with cobalt tears. Softly, you suggest that she and you are different from whoever your ancestors were. We aren’t enemies, you tell her, we don’t have to be and we never will be. She slowly relaxes.

‘S-sorry. I just… overreacted a little. But Mindfang wrote about Redglare in her journal, and she s-said-’

‘Then I should use that information for my character!’ you say excitedly. ‘And modify it to suit our new… our new beginning! We can change it, Vriska, really.’

‘Sure… if you say so. Maybe uh, we can start by looking at those costumes first.’ A bit shakily, she opens the book again.

About half and hour later, she boots up her husktop and types a message to grimAuxilliatrix. You two need red cloth, sturdy and firm. And teal, cobalt and black. Furthermore, you need boots. Folded near the knees for her, straight for you. She also orders a red sash for herself on the grubnet, and a pair of red glasses for you. Then she shows you the site of the FLAP-ing organization. ‘We have to name our team if we want to do the team-campaigns. Those yield much more treasures than the solo ones I’m doing. Urgh, look at all these loser names.’ She scrolls over the list of teams. ‘Winners, Psionics, Bronze Beasts, Charge, Seadwweller-’

‘What was that last one?’

‘With double “w”. Say, do you have any idea’s that aren’t lame like these? Want to hear mine first?’

‘Sure’, you say.

She takes a deep breath. ‘I say we call ourselves Team Scourge. How does that sound, Redglare?’

You just manage to stifle you laughter. ‘Pffft… That sounds eh, exceptionally good, Mindfang.’ When you’re able to breathe again, you add. ‘It makes sense, scourging was a punishment I read about in that scan you send me. And it sounds like something that would happen on a ship too.’

She signs both of you in. The next campaign is scheduled to start in ten days. You don’t have that much time to work on your costumes, but if you stay at Vriska’s place for that time, it has to be doable.  She slightly adjusts her glasses and shows you a smile. You also grin, and softly say the name again. Team Scourge.

Chapter Text

‘Dammit Rezi, I’ll miss you!’ Your sister almost chokes you in her hug. When she lets you go, it’s your mother’s turn to tightly hold you.

‘She is right, we’ll all miss you.’

‘No worries,’ you say. ‘I’ll see you in two months. And I’ll try not to make too much trouble,’ you add with a sharp grin. Both Latula junior and Latula senior quirk their mouths in the Pyrope-way. The way people say looks like a question-mark. ‘We have absolutely no idea what you mean, you never ever make trouble.’

‘No, usually it’s Pyralspite who messes up !’ Latula jr. nods at the dragon. It’s calmly sitting a few feet away from you, and by far the most peaceful member of the family. Your mother turns her head sharply to the right. A girl in a long orange dress is yelling at a younger girl with a grey jacket on. You can’t hear exactly what they’re saying, but when they walk closer, Latula sr. puts an arm around you and your sister. She guides you closer to your family dragon. ‘The Serket family, god I hoped they would choose a different magical education facility. But the Marquise never fails to choose the best of the best.’

Behind the bickering girls walks a tall woman. Her hair is by far the blackest and heaviest you’ve ever seen. She wears a long coat with blue markings, and a huge hat to match. There’s something unnerving in the slow, graceful way she moves. Her voice is deep and breathy when she sharply says: ‘Aranea and Vriska, if you would stop squabbling like that, you’re giving our family a bad name.’ Both of the girls immediately shut their mouths. The older sister sharply elbows the younger one, and you see her hiss something in her ear. The other woman, you assume the mother of the two, goes on about what power the youngest sister is bound to acquire. It sounds like a lot of heavy talk to you.

‘Bad name?’ your mother grumbles. ‘Like you can have a worse name than the Serkets. All thieves, pirates and manipulators.’

‘Aranea used to be reasonable,’ Latula jr. says. ‘Until she got a bit too obsessed with her lighty powers. And started hanging out with Meenah Peixes. I’m still surprised that girl didn’t get kicked out.’

‘Well, they never kicked out the time magician who went rogue and… paralyzed a boy, I believe? I’m happy that they follow a stricter set of rules here now. In the time I was on AMS, they didn’t even give one stroke of the whip to thieves and cheaters.’ Latula sr. looks sharply at the Serkets with that last sentence.

AMS. It stands for Alternia Magic School. You’re excited to start here. For years you’ve waited until you were old enough. Now, a few days after you’ve turned thirteen, you stand in front of the huge school terrain. A few months before this, you’ve seriously started researching all twelve forms of magic. Rage, Time and Doom were the first three to go for you. In negative emotions you’re not interested, and the literal manipulation of time or fate doesn’t sound appealing too. Life sounded too vague, Hope too hard to master. Void was odd and secretive, Light and Space too one-sided. Breath had been on your list for a long time, until you saw that with Pyralspite, you were able to do anything with air and wind you wanted to. Besides, if you successfully finished a specialization, you’d be able to fly anyways. All three of the aspects that were left after you’d thinned out your list had something to do with emotions. Blood was the next one to go, you couldn’t see a use for it besides strengthening bonds between people, and that wasn’t something you wanted to devote your entire life to. Now you were stuck between Heart and Mind. The first one was soul and emotions. You knew that Heart-specialists were crazily powerful when fully realized. But Mind, as your mother had said, you already had. It was your own power you’d amplify with magic. Your older sister had chosen Mind too. She was able to see into people’s memories if she tried hard enough, and there are these combat spells, so-called “fraymotifs”, that were almost scarily powerful sometimes.

You look around the terrain a bit. The Serket family is still in hot discussion. The youngest girl seems to be taking the brunt of the anger from both the Marquise and her sister. They’re belting her with reprimanding words about power and honor for the family. Poor girl , you think, before remembering what your mother said about the family. Close to you, a three very tall women are happily talking to two girls who are obviously sisters. Maybe there’s a year or two difference between the two, but both have the same hair, almost white, and the taller one is clinging to the shoulders of the younger sister. She calls out to three guys. ‘Hey! Dirkie! C’mover here, I wanna know what you’re gonna choose!’

To the left of you, a different girl already seems to practice some kind of spell. She puts both hands in front of her, thumb and index finger in a ninety-degree angle and says: ‘Like this, Jake! Like this, I’ll be able to use my powers!’

Then a voice calls out over the terrain: ‘To all the new pupils of Alternia Magic School, could you come to the main hall? I, your excellent host, will lead the choosing ceremony there.’

‘Time to go,’ you say. With one last Pyrope-family hug, you say goodbye to them for two months. As you walk to the gates with the rest of the pupils, you hear the Marquise say:

‘And don’t forget, mastery of your power is mastery of your worthiness!’

In the stream of people, you walk into the hall. As you take a seat, one by one the pupils are called forward by a woman with a kind but grave face.  She introduces herself as Calliope. The space-symbol is embroidered onto her long robes, and she seems to inspire the courage to choose a clear path in everyone in the hall. Only a few boys and girls stick in your memory. A timid boy who stutters “Breath”, really softly, a small girl who goes for Heart. The older white-haired sister strangely chooses Void, her younger, more serious sister the opposite, Light. Vriska Serket chooses Light too, and you hear the whispers around you. After an excited girl happily blurts out that she chooses Life, you are called forward.

‘Terezi Pyrope, what will your specialization be?’

You take a deep breath. ‘I choose Mind.’

‘A rare, but good choice,’ she says and hands you a sash. It’s green, the color of the Mind-aspect. As you walk back to your seat, you hold it tightly. The rest of the ceremony goes by in somewhat of a buzz. A tall, extremely muscular guy says Void, the girl you saw signing outside, her name appears to be Jade, happily goes for Space. When all pupils have been assigned to their aspects, other people, which Calliope says are teachers, lead you to your barracks. With that word, you think a bit of soldier’s quarters, but these are much better than you expect. There are twelve bunk beds in every cabin, and a large fireplace in the back. Twelve beds, one for every aspect, you realize.

‘I call dibs on this one!’ Vriska suddenly storms past you and flings herself down on the one closest to the fireplace.

‘Hey! Royalty first!’ A tall boy pulls the cheery life-magician with him to the two beds on the other side of the fireplace. Suddenly everyone in the cabin is claiming his or her spot, and you’re a bit behind in the rush. Two beds are left, both upper beds. One is above a lanky boy with a dreamy expression, the other one above Vriska. You look to the other leftover. The timid boy with the Breath-aspect.

‘Ehhhm,’ he starts. ‘Do… you eh, want that one?’ He shakily points at the bed above Vriska, who grins with a devilish smile at the both of you. Clearly he’s much more interested in the other bed. You agree, it doesn’t seem right to leave him with a girl like the Marquise’s daughter. As you put your bag with possessions down on your mattress, Vriska pinches your leg.

‘I’d watch out with that, if I were you.’

‘Oh you’re not getting your hands on any of my stuff,’ you snap at her. Before she can start bickering with you, the excited Life-trainee says:

‘So, what are your names and aspects? I’m Feferi, and I’ve chosen Life!’

‘Aradia, and I’m going to train in Time-magic,’ a brown-haired girl from the bed below a boy with odd red and blue glasses says.

The Breath-magician who you spared from getting his stuff stolen by Vriska is called Tavros. The guy below him asks if he can call everyone bro or sis. ‘But only if you’re okay with that, of course. What do you say, Tavbro?’

You wonder how he’s going to call you. He says his name’s Gamzee, and he specializes in… Rage-magic? ‘I wanna try and do something good with those negative emotions inside my brain. Like, make some miracle’s happen with them.’

‘Sounds a bit stupith,’ the boy with the glasses says. His name is Sollux, and he has chosen Doom, because he claims to hear voices that tell him that everything is going to shit some time.  The Blood-magician of your group is called Karkat, and you immediately think he’s cute, short and shouty. The elegant girl you saw on the terrain outside is Kanaya, she is the group’s Space-specialist has an interest in design and likes doing research about creatures like Vampires and even expresses interest in turning into one some day. You want to say that you know a dragon, she seems like she’ll enjoy meeting Pyralspite one day, when Vriska cuts her off.

‘Yeah, sure. Jeez, such boring losers you all are. I’m Vriska Serket, daughter of the Marquise of Serket Estate, also known as Mindfang. I’m heiress to more money than you can ever imagine. And I’ve, of course, chosen the Light-aspect since it’s the coolest and most powerful of the twelve. More powerful than you dumb losers.’

The last sentence sounds a bit forced. You decide to introduce yourself before she can gloat anymore and say: ‘I’m Terezi, I’ve chosen Mind, and I uh… I like the Law. And justice, my mother is a prosecutor.’

‘Oh yeah, you’re the one with the purrity dragon, aren’t you?’ The voice comes from a bed across the room. A small girl lies on her belly in a high bed with her hands under her head. ‘I’d like to pet it one day. Can I?’

‘Of course, Pyralspite loves being petted, especially when you scratch the back of his neck, he also loves treats, like-’

‘What is this? Dragon exposition hour? Get on with the boring introduction shit already!’ Vriska shouts.

The girl seems taken aback a bit, but she say’s she’s Nepeta, and has chosen Heart. The guy in the bed below her is the Void-specialist with the muscles. He’s Equius and you have no doubt that he’d be able to lift a small house. The last one is Eridan, he’s the Hope-magician of your group and claims he and Feferi, who are closely related, are family of the Empress herself. You talk and joke for the rest of the evening. Food is brought to the barrack. In the weekends, you eat with every pupil in the main hall, your excellent host explains. Aradia asks his name.

‘Call me Scratch,’ he says. After your first two months here, you’re going to have to cook your own meals three out of seven says in the week, he explains. With that, he leaves you to enjoy your meal. When you’re ready to sleep and pull the blankets over your chin, you feel a sharp kick in the mattress. With a swift movement, you bend over the edge of the bed.

‘What was that for, Serket?’

‘What?’ she asks. ‘I did nothing. Bluh.’ She sticks out her tongue to you and turns on her side. It takes some time until you fall asleep. You constantly hear someone whisper. When you sit up and want to ask if whoever is doing that can stop, you realize that it comes from the bed below you. ‘Mastery of your power is mastery of your worthiness,’ Vriska repeats, over and over again.

A Month later

After a long day, you’re finally back in the cabin. God, you’re happy that you don’t have to cook today, you’ll just get food from the school. After a bit of fussing, Kanaya and Feferi have made a schedule for the twelve of you. You have to cook tomorrow, with tall Equius and, sadly, Vriska. Although, the girl’s not quite as bad as you had thought. The first day, you were able to beat her in two physical tests, the sprint and a weight-lifting test. The last one was unfair, in your opinion. You had already practiced things like that with Latula and your mother. But she clapped you hard on the back and said something like “good for you, Pyrope”, which you had decided to take as a complement. Your magic training had been hard. You were having trouble with “awakening the power of your mind”, as the tutor called it. But that happened to the best of magicians, she had said. You didn’t really worry. Your personal favorite lesson is definitely sword-fighting. You’ve already adopted a dual-sword technique, and were able to beat every girl in your cabin, and Eridan, Tavros and Gamzee. The door swings open. Almost everyone perks up, expecting an early dinner. But it is Scratch and two guards that step in. A Time and a Doom symbol glistens on their armor. Scratch doesn’t have a symbol of any kind, which you find odd.

‘Hello, my little magicians. I have an unpleasant message for you,’ he says. ‘A bag with pastries, intended for this evening’s dinner, has been stolen from the kitchens. We found a half-eaten one just outside the window of this cabin. Now that can’t be a coincidence, can it?’

You hear Vriska shift on the bed below you. She has stolen them, you intuitively know. Sudden quick movements betray a thief, your mother has told you.

‘If the culprit would be so kind to step forward? Then we won’t have to make this so hard.’ Scratch looks around the room. You hear a soft hiccup from underneath you. Scratch’s eyes go to the young Serket. Her half stuttered confession is enough for you to hear how scared she is.

‘Well well, Vriska. I am afraid that you have to face the whip for this offense of yours then. Ten streaks.’

The punishment your mother talked about. It seems a little wrong though, a flogging just because of a few stolen pastries. That sentence is out of your mouth before you know it.

Scratch doesn’t even look up to you as he says: ‘It might seem that way, little Pyrope. I am sure your mother wouldn’t take this as lightly as you. She has send people to the gallows.’

‘For worse things than this,’ you say. Vriska looks at you. There’s confusion in her eyes, and some kind of weird look of anticipation.

‘And furthermore-’ Scratch goes on. ‘This is small Serket’s fourth offense this entire month. Two times she has taken a shortcut in an obstacle course during the physical education lessons. And I am not forgetting the stolen money from my very own office or the time she tested her powers on the Space-magician Jade. Luckily the only thing that happened to the poor girl was that she temporarily fell asleep, but they are crimes.’ He looks at Vriska again and you see her cower.

This isn’t right, you think. He’s being way too harsh. Those are just minor offenses, give her an extra cooking job or something, but the whip is going too far. If she’d hurt anyone… okay, then she’d actually deserve it, but now? You get up from your bed and jump onto the floor. ‘Actually, mister Scratch… I’ve helped her.’

Vriska’s eyes bug out. ‘N-n-’

‘Yes, don’t you try to deny this, Serket.’ You try to speak with as much despise as you can. ‘I stood on guard while she went into the kitchens. I made sure that I’d warn her if anyone would come. Her family motto I’d say then, loudly. Mastery of your power is mastery of your worthiness, that is.’

That makes Vriska gasps, she starts to say something along the lines of “how do you even know-” when Scratch quickly adjusts the sentence. Six streaks for her, four for you. At least it’s less than the ten she would get , you think. It’s over in a flash. Four quick shots of pain along your back. You manage to stand up and stumble to Vriska’s bunk when the guard lets you go. You shut your eyes when she receives hers. With a final word, Scratch and the guards leave.

‘No healing,’ he says, directed to both Feferi and Kanaya. Vriska sits down next to you. She whimpers and grabs your shoulder, hard. But she doesn’t cling to you for long, after a few seconds, she just falls on her stomach on her blanket. You climb up to your bed and grab the Mind-aspect sash you have. The long streaks stretch unpleasantly when you jump back off, but you start dabbing the green fabric to her back. At first she turns her head sideways and just looks at you, the she stops your hand. ‘You’ll get red blood all over that thing, use a towel or something.’

‘Here, Terezi, use this.’ Karkat throws you a towel, slightly damped with water. It works much better than the sash.

‘Mhm, cold… feels good,’ Vriska softly says when you press it to her back.

Feferi advises both of you not to bandage the wounds, because shallow injuries should dry in the air. Vriska clumsily sits up and takes the bloodied towel from you. She first folds it clean side up, then says you should lay down.

‘I’d prefer to keep sitting,’ you mumble, grabbing one of the posts of the bed for support. She was right when she said the cold felt good. You let her dab the lashes. It’s oddly silent in the cabin. When you look up at the rest of your cabinmates, almost all of them are staring at you. Except Gamzee, he’s just staring at the underside of the bed above him. Vriska also notices the silence.

‘What are you all looking at?’ she snaps. ‘Go back… doing whatever the hell you were doing… Please?’

As your cabinmates slowly unfreeze, she asks you: ‘I thought you liked justice so much, why did you do that thing just yet?’

‘So you actually listened when I said that?’

‘Kind of.’ She hangs the towel over the edge of your bunk and flops down on her mattress. With a tinge of nervousness, you carefully lie down next to her.

‘Well, justice… fine. But that wasn’t justice. Ten streaks of the whip just because of some stolen pastries. In the courtblock, criminals get thirty when they’ve helped with murder. That’s only three times as many… eh, I might be a little different than you though, with these beliefs.’

‘Maybe… or maybe you’ve got a legislator for a mother and I just don’t.’ She shifts on the bed and puts one arm under her head. You’re a bit speechless for a second. And surprised that she’s opening up to you. But you decide to let your own question wait until nightfall. After dinner, which both of you ate sitting on her bed, everyone has settled in his or her sleeping place. Eridan is trying to get both Feferi and Sollux interested in a story he’s telling, the latter is clearly busy chatting with Aradia. Both Kanaya and Nepeta are drawing. Earlier this month you’ve seen some of Kanaya’s designs. Beautiful dresses and colorful shirts. Equius quietly looks on and on Gamzee’s bunk, he, Tavros and Karkat are playing a card game. The latter throws his cards down in frustration and starts a tirade against Gamzee, who just laughs and suggests another game. You start to climb the short ladder up to your bed, when Vriska taps on your leg. ‘C’mere for a second.’

‘Sure.’ You jump down, wincing when you hit your painful shoulder against a post of the bed. You stand in front of her, waiting what she wants to say, when she taps on the pillow.

‘No, I meant here. Just for a minute.’

‘Oh.. alright,’ you say while lying down beside her. With a shirt on, you can lay on your back without too much trouble. To your surprise, she puts her head on your shoulder.

‘Just a minute,’ she repeats.

You glance down at her hand. She’s holding her Light-aspect sash. The bright shades of orange strongly contrast with the blue shirt and black pyjama pants she’s wearing. She spots you looking at it. ‘Do you ever wear yours?’

‘No. And I won’t now anyways, it’s all bloody.’

‘I’m sorry…’

‘It’s fine. But eh, I wanted to ask something… two things actually. First of, how did you drop that one pastry outside? You seem like quite a thief if you can steal from Scratch’s office.’

She sheepishly looks at you and nods over to Eridan and Feferi’s bunk. ‘I came through their window, I was eating one on the way back and thought I’d put it back in the bag. It must have fallen out.’

The window, so that’s how she got out. With a deep breath you ask your second question: ‘Your sister, I saw her yelling at you the first day-’

‘Aranea is… not nice.  A good magician, sure. But she’s so pushy and frustrated all the time. I’m not really looking forward to over a month, when our first trimester here is over.’

‘So you’re going back home then?’ You know you most certainly are. The small cottage of the Pyropes will be a welcome sight for you. And you’ll be happy when you see Pyralspite again. You miss flying on his back a lot. Vriska shakes her head.

‘No, I’m staying here. I send them a letter already, “extra training to become more powerful” and more of that bullshit.’

‘You can go with me if you want to,’ you offer her. ‘I’ll arrange everything with my family.’

She looks completely dumbfounded at you. ‘I eh, well-’

‘It’s not an estate like the Marquise has, just a cottage, but it’s warm and it’s… home.’

‘If you’re sure that the Pyropes will say yes, I’d really like to.’ A little smile is on Vriska’s face. ‘But my family will come over to the school over a month, just to see me.’

‘I’ll talk to them, or my mother will. I’m sure she can convince the Marquise to let you stay with us, it’s only two weeks!’

You’re really hoping for the best. As you want to say this, she has fallen asleep on your shoulder. Nepeta softly giggles from her bed.

‘You’re cute as furriends,’ she says. ‘Purrely platonic, of course.’

Chapter Text

(Pre-retcon timeline, in the middle of the Gamrezi disaster)

Everything had first disappeared in a flash of light. A depressing answer to your shakily spoken “yes” at Aranea’s second time she asked if you wanted your eyes healed. But that was when the true horror had begun. A mere second after you had been plunged into total, all senses barring darkness, a swirl of purple had hit you. Gamzee had seen the yellow eyes, and laughed. Just laughed, and that was worse than the punches he dealt to you and the violent, biting kisses he forced on you. Now, you are huddled against the wall of a bend in one of the pipes. You're not even wearing pants. There’s a grate next to you, ugly iron bars, rough to all of your senses. It leads to god-knows-where. You don’t have the strength or the will to look at what room lies behind it. You know he’ll return soon. Somewhere in this mess of pipes and shafts, he has found an alchemiter in a room that’s not invaded with other people. It’s most likely in the abandoned labs, no one ever comes there. Except you two. And you know all too well how glass of the cloning tubes, shattering under your weight, feels. You know how hard the walls are to your head, but his fists are always harder. You know how his mind intruding yours feels, unlike Vriska, he actually gets a grip on it with his chucklevoodoos. And you know now how disgustingly purple his fake god-tier outfit looks. He’s returning, his footsteps too loud and too close in the shaft. Your reflexes have become sluggish from all the lying around in a half-unconscious, fago-induced state. He flips you over on his lap, that atrocious codpiece pricking in your back. You lash out, but miss his face and only hit his fake wings. Of the entire outfit, they are easily the fakest. They’re rough and made out of fabric, unlike real god-tier wings. You know that from the one time you touched Vriska’s. That small thought is enough to make you almost tear up. But you swallow your tears , he’d only laugh harder if he saw them. He retrieves something from his sylladex. You don’t need your eyes to know what it is. Punching his shoulder, you try to muster up all the hate you have to somehow make him drop the bottle. But no sooner does your fist land, or he grabs it, pulls it down so you sort of embrace his waist and you hear the hissing sound of bubbles, escaping with a tinge of scent. It’s cherry. The first bottle is almost always cherry. You’re trapped, one arm around his waist, the other stuck between your body and his legs. Opening your mouth to yell and curse at him, the only words you can say are: ‘Filthy clown! I’ll-’

Then he chugs a good amount of faygo down your throat. You choke and spit half of it out, the bottle to your lips making sure that it sprays everywhere. But the biggest amount you can get down. It feels too good. The sweetness is overwhelming, and you barely taste the dreadful artificial cherry flavor. In the beginning, you used to like a lot of the flavors. They reminded you of your friends, the connections you’d made between flavors and people over the years. Sometimes, they even tasted like the drawings you had made in your hive. Now there was only sugar and liquid. Gamzee is drinking too. You worm your arm out from underneath you and scrape your nails along his throat. Purple faygo and a little purple blood color well together. Your nails are sharper than in the past. But you never tend to them anymore, and he hates it if you tear up his purple robes. In return, you hate the way he always gets the better of you. Or how he’s taller and can pin you down so easily. You despise the intoxicating smell of his facepaint, or the dreary smeared-out look it has now. You hate how he makes you whine and give in to his caliginous kisses and how he’s always way too close to you. You try to remind yourself that this isn’t how a healthy black romance is supposed to go, and you forget it when he makes you drink another bottle of sweet, treacherous soda. Lost in your thoughts for a second, the Bard sees you’re weak and slings you off his lap. You land hard on your stomach and make a feeble attempt at getting up. A foot, clad in an ugly pointed shoe, lands in your ribs. That’ll be another bruise, you know. He lifts you off and throws you with all of his crazy, rage-induced strength. The grey of the pipe zips by. Your bare legs are scratched open by the rough walls. You know what’s coming and just manage to pull up your legs. Curling into a little ball, you await his fury. A rush of blood in your ears almost makes you release your knees, and a terrifying image is pulled from the corners of your mind. The subjuggulator’s powers are making you see Vriska, impaled by your own blade. You tear it out, making a sloshing sound as it leaves her body. The pain snaps you out of it, you feel a bit of blood trickling down your chin. His filthy lips on yours only stay there for a second, before he travels down to your shoulder and bites hard. A cry sounding from your mouth is muffled by another glug of faygo being poured down your throat. Grape, the one you hate the most. You frantically shake your head, only to almost choke on the soda. After forcing yourself to swallow, you hear him throw the bottle away. It’s empty, you had to drink all of it. He homes in on you, and hits, kicks and scratches. After a full minute of his fury, you somehow hit your head way too hard against the wall and suddenly black out.

When your eyes flick open, the first thing you sense is light. Bright light. You want to curl up again and shield your sensitive eyes, but your hands are sore and bloodied. Panicking, you thrash around and frantically try to somehow stop all of your senses from making your brain hurt. Then an arm reaches over you. From the grip, strong but gentle, you know it’s not Gamzee. A hand is pressed against your face, over your eyes. The one-second thought of the person being Vriska immediately fades. It’s a glove that covers your eyes. A leather glove. Now you can smell properly again. You smell… red. Cherries! you think. It’s cherries, you dumb idiot!

An arm slides under your painful back, you whimper. Whoever is doing that lifts you effortlessly off the ground. You smell yourself. No, that’s teal. No! That’s… some kind of berry? The word you’d connected to the smell of your own color has faded from your memory. But this does smell different than you. More mature, with a sense of authority. There’s still a glove over your face, and an arm is under your knees. The other arm cradles your sore back, while keeping the hand over your eyes at the same time. You hear water. You smell salt. The sea, you realize. You’re in a dreambubble with sea. You’re put down, but not on sand, as you thought. It’s grass that’s soft against your body.

‘I’ll remove my hand now, don’t be scared.’

The hand is indeed moved. It now hangs in the air between you and the other person. You see her dreadfully sharply. Her horns, long and pointy. Her black hair, or no, you should say it’s licorice. And her uniform, red and teal like the one you made long ago. Her eyes are stark white and without pupils, and with only one glance, she seems to look right into your mind. She’s not all that tall, but graceful in her own way, even though her muscles show beneath the tight sleeves and trousers she wears. A trained Legislacerator, in body and mind. She removes her gloves. ‘It’s been too long, Terezi. Way too long until I found you.’

‘H-how have you found me?’ Your voice is raspy and when you talk, the taste of faygo in your mouth makes you gag.

‘Your friend guided me, the Witch of Life.’ Redglare hands you a flask. ‘Drink. And get that taste out of your mouth.’

You carefully take a sip, it’s just water. But the slightest bit of cold liquid in your stomach is enough to make you heave over.  The Neophyte swiftly slings her arm around your waist and supports you while you throw up everything. You start to make excuses, when another disgusting wave of faygo cuts off your sentence and splatters on the grass.

‘No no, don’t say sorry. I know. I know how sensitive a troll’s body can be,’ Redglare says. She pours some water onto a cloth and wipes your mouth. Now you actually want to drink. The water refreshes and gets rid of the sour taste in your mouth. Feeling weak, you slump forward. Luckily your ancestor is still holding you and now lays you down carefully.

‘S-sorry,’ you whisper. ‘Sorry I’m so weak. Sorry I’m not a descendant like you dese-’

‘Terezi, if I hear one more “sorry that I’m pathetic” from you, I’ll actually start to regret traveling through these bubbles to meet you,’ Redglare sharply says, but her voice still sounds gentle. ‘Listen, you’re in kismesis with the descendant of the Grand Highblood himself. That doesn’t have a good effect on anyone. He, and I do mean the older one, tried to make black advances on me, when I still worked for the law. But I always refused. And I wasn’t trapped on a desolate rock in space, like you.’ She now pulls you into a sitting position against her body. You lean back and sigh in relief. Supporting herself with one arm behind her, the other one cups your face. ‘And why I’ve come her now isn’t because I want to hear you stutter excuses to me.’

‘Why then?’ You don’t want to sound rude, but your voice trembles a bit. Redglare taps on your bare leg.

‘Well, there’s a time when someone needs to be cared for. You’re the one that needs caring for now. You’re currently lying unconscious on the roof of your meteor, that’s where that clown dragged you. He has pulled your dragon cape over you’re head and walked off to god knows where. And you’re not wearing pants.’ She lets go of your face and grabs a bag from behind her. It’s a sturdy backpack with a lot of pockets in it. A sleeping bag is rolled up on top of it. Of course, it’s merely a mirror of an item from long ago. Redglare points out that you’re bruised and injured. When she touches the scraped skin on your knees you cringe and instinctively try to turn away from her. She softly turns you on your back again and dabs at the teal blood. You relax.

‘But isn’t it a bit useless to bandage me? I mean, they’ll all be gone once I wake up,’ you say when she wraps the soft fabric around your bitten shoulder.

‘Perhaps, but they are relieving your pain now, so I don’t see why not. Here, drink some more water.’

You drink more water. ‘Redglare… did you ever need to be cared for?’

‘Of course. And I was in a much worse state than you. I barely lived, the time that I was beaten up. And only after I had to deal with fever and other nastiness, I survived.’ When she’s done cleaning your wounds, you ask Redglare if you can see her staff.

‘Of course.’ She reaches behind her and gets it for you. You feel the polished weapon. It’s much lighter than you think. The metal is cold and stark white. The red gem that makes up the eye of the dragon’s head is reminiscent of how your own eyes were. You say to her that your attempt at making a dragon cane isn’t as good. She dismisses it and clicks open the staff. Just like your weapon, there are two hidden blades inside. A sudden thought rises in your mind.

‘Can… can I lick it?’ you ask.

Redglare laughs, and you’re afraid that you’ve said something wrong, when she holds it out for you. ‘Go ahead, maybe you’ll get some of your confidence back.’

You take a careful lick along the dragon head. It’s cold and tastes like metal. Bluh. You shake you head. ‘It doesn’t work anymore… I-I’ve lost that ability, I think.’ You start to cry. They really did succeed in breaking you. Not even your signature things remain. But your ancestor reaches out to you and covers your eyes with a hand. Her long and elegant fingers wrap around your face and the darkness is soothing. You take a few deep breaths. A familiar smell lingers at the edge of your memory. You lick the weapon again. ‘I… I taste… white. But that’s all.’ It still doesn’t work. You know the weapon is white, that’s probably why you’re able to “taste” it.

‘I’m sure there must be a special taste that only you can remember, Terezi.’ Redglare softly says.

‘It’s… it’s something that has both a good and a bad side. It’s fresh and silky at the same time. It’s...’ Suddenly a smile parts your lips. ‘I got it! It’s vanilla milkshake!’ You turn quickly and hug Redglare. She’s clearly surprised and falls over on her back. But you don’t care, you wrap your arms tightly around her and for a second, don’t even care about the fact that you’re only wearing underpants and a shirt or that you smell like faygo and clown sweat. Redglare pats you on the back when you let her go.

‘See? I knew you could find it again, that you could find yourself.’

‘Yeah… there’s this other thing…’ You sit on your knees and look at Redglare’s white eyes. ‘I killed… you know… the descendant of Mindfang. You might not think that’s too much of an issue, but-’

‘Terezi, I do get it. She was your friend. But it was for the wellbeing of everyone. You shouldn’t feel guilty, it’s not a crime, to have to kill someone for the safety of everyone on the meteor.’ Redglare says what you already thought time and time over again. But that’s the way she sees it. And it’s the hard truth, you know. Who are you to discuss guilt and innocence with her, if she has studied the law for years and enforced it for her entire life. You are going to have to accept it one day.

‘I just feel so… bad. About everything. About killing Vriska, about this kismesis with Gamzee, and what will the others think of me?’ You ruffle your hair with your hands.

‘Then cut it short. Tell that horrible clown that you’re not his toy anymore and start adapting to your new abilities.’ Redglare points at your eyes. ‘We can train together if you want, I’m sure your Heiress friend will help you visit me again. And about the Marquise…’ She chooses her words carefully. You’re surprised when she uses the more honorary form of the title. ‘You and her have surprisingly much in common. Both of you are stubborn, hardy, and at one point, broken. And I know you can reach the full height of your abilities again, just like she.’

‘Redglare… you talk about Mindfang like she… like she didn’t totally hang you from your own noose!’

‘Well, all trolls have their comeuppance.’ Redglare lies down and you two just look at the gleaming inside of the dreambubble for a while. You glace sideways. The Neophyte’s teal shirt is slightly crumpled under her back. A few teal-tinted scars show on her back. Of course, someone like Redglare would have cool scars from awesome battles. She smiles a sharp-toothed smile. ‘Terezi, it was a true pleasure to meet you. But I’m afraid we have to say goodbye. Your friends are on the roof now, I think the Sufferer’s descendant will spot you first.’

‘Oh shit, not Karkat!’ you blurt out. ‘But how can you see that?’

‘Only when you are like me, you can. And I hope very much that you won’t.’ She points at her white eyes. Dead, she means. When you’re dead, you’re able to see the world from the dreambubbles. You start to panic a bit. Karkat will surely think you’re an addicted, useless idiot who can’t do any good in his eyes. Redglare notices your discomfort. As she takes your hands in hers, she says:

‘One last word of advice: I’ve noticed you’re not quite as enthusiastic about justice anymore as you used to be. Please, Terezi, find your own justice again. It doesn’t matter how. Blind yourself if necessary, but do make sure that you’re prepared if you ever have to face your former kismesis or whoever else in battle. Now wake up. I think the Sufferer’s descendant has inherited his affection for encouraging talks as well as his ability never to give up.’

You want to say something. You want to thank her for all she did for you. But her body fades in front of your eyes. The bandages around your arms, shoulder and legs disappear. Your pain returns hundredfold. You fall back, hitting hard concrete. You hear Karkat’s angry shouting and Dave’s flat, calm voice. Then, your bloodshot eyes flip open.

(Then this happens: http://www.mspaintadventures.com/?s=6&p=007915) 

Chapter Text

With strong flaps they fly
Majestic and weightless
No one stops them
In their path, when
They soar through the sky
Beautiful in their greatness

When I rise up high
My wings leave a mess
Foul-smelling smoke
Can’t turn sharply, makes me choke
Flames decorate mine
But I don’t have a dragon’s finesse

I’ll always glorify
Their beautiful scales, I confess
I sniff, lick and scratch
Those colors, each scale a different patch
Cherry, vanilla and apple all apply
Even though my eyes are sightless

But one dragon can defy,
All others, with success
Not my cute (and guilty) scalemates
For who I make up terrible fates
It’s Pyralspite, flying by,
In my mind, always managing to impress

Chapter Text

7: April Fools 

(This happens some time after the day 1 prompt: everyone is on earth C)

John asks if you want something to drink. He has lemonade, coffee and also the cherry Kool-aid you like so much. With a big grin, you ask for a glass of the latter. Vriska wants to say something too, when the door flies open.

‘Hey John! And grouchy scarf and spidertroll too!’

You roll your eyes. Roxy Lalonde, always a hyperactive pleasure to see. She plops down on a the chair next to you. Vriska’s sitting on your left and Dave on the opposite side. As the others tell John what they want to drink, you take in a big sniff of Roxy’s bubblegum smell. Looks like you’re in for an exciting few hours, with two dorks like she and John, Dave who will surely show you some raps and of course Vriska. Ever since you’ve saved her from the black hole, almost a year ago now, you and she have moved in together. A nice house in the outskirts of Can Town. John puts down the glasses and you eagerly reach out for yours. You take a big glug of cherry goodness, and then start to choke and gag. It’s salt you taste. Only salt and a tiny smudge of Kool-aid. Virska starts simultaneously clapping you on the back and yelling at the others, who are besides themselves with laughter.

‘Oh man, that’s the best one I’ve seen today. I mean, Rose got Kanaya pretty bad too, poor girl’s shoelaces tied together, but this one’s even better!’ Roxy says.

‘I don’t get what’s so terribly funny! You’re trying to make Terezi choke!’ Vriska screams. You gasp for breath and grab John’s cup of coffee. It gets the taste out of your mouth quickly enough. Then you step up to him.

‘John Egbert, now you are going to explain to me why you were trying to feed me salt water, or else I’ll… I’ll lock you into the brooding caverns with Karkat and Kanaya!’

He squirms and behind you, Dave’s still laughing. ‘Calm down tz, it’s just April fools,’ he says.

‘What’s April fools?’ You let go of John’s arm.

‘Well, it’s April now, the month April. And it’s also the first day of that month. So, humans play pranks on each other today. It’s tradition,’ Dave explains. He leans back in his chair and dips a finger into his own drink. After sampling it, he concludes: ‘Yup, that’s salty too. Thanks for busting the joke, tz, otherwise we’d have gotten it too.’

Vriska takes a careful sip of her coffee. ‘Damn, that’s… very salty. I guess we’ve lucked out on this.’

‘And I got a mouthful of salt. Happy human fools day! Thanks so much, Egbert!’ You storm off to the kitchen to wash your mouth and make new Kool-aid. When you come back with the cup, Roxy is telling everyone about another prank she’s pulled off today. The poor victim had been Calliope this time.

‘Yeah right, so I give her the cupcake, Janey had made it especially for today. She eats the thing… it’s stuffed with hot sauce. But guess what!’ She throws her legs onto the table and looks at everyone. ‘She liked it! She was all like “yo Roxy that was some tasty-ass cake and it was nice and spicy too’. So I tried a crumb, I dunno, maybe Janey had put way too little in it. Man-’ She flaps her hand in front of her mouth. ‘ – I thought I’d explode, so damn hot is that stuff! And Callie kept asking me what was wrong, I had a hard time explaining.’

If you didn't knew that John meant it as a prank, there would have been a very different kind of emotion in the air. But Human Fools day is appealing to you, in a way. You just have to pull off a good prank. Vriska shrugs her jacket off her shoulders. It fall on the ground next to her chair. When she bends down to pick it up, Dave starts telling about something his bro pulled off. It has something to do with a “correction” in one of Jake’s robots. But before he’s finished, Vriska loudly suggests that all of you move to the couch. She already storms off. You follow her, so does John. When Dave stands up, he suddenly stumbles and pulls Roxy with him. Both of them fall on the ground. Vriska laughs hard, clapping you on your back. ‘Just look at those idiots, Terezi!’

‘You got us good, spideytroll,’ Roxy grinns while untying her shoelace from Dave’s. You still don't get it.

‘How have you done that?’

‘When I picked up my jacket, silly. I tied their shoes together.’ Vriska lies down with a confident smile on her face.

Now you've had enough of it. Everyone is successfully pranking each other on this special day, except you. You glare at John, he got all of this started. He is looking back at you, still with that dopey smile on his face. You stand up and flop down next to him on the couch. ‘Say, John… I think I know what you're after,’ you whisper, so no one except him can hear you. They're all listening to Roxy, who's saying that Calliope might still not get April Fools day.

‘I think she's going to try and prank me back, but she'll do something nice instead, just watch.’

‘I know exactly what a boy wants if he plays tricks on a girl. Karkat lectured me often enough about it,’ you continue.

‘Eh, sure, Terezi…’ John says. He doesn't really get it, you think. But he says is loudly enough for everyone to look at you. Locating the blueberry smell of Vriska, you pull up your eyebrows and mouth “Eridan” at her. Then she should know what you're talking about. You smell her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Even better, you're getting her too with it.

‘I'm quite happy that you're feeling this way too, John.’ With those words you sling an arm around his shoulders.

‘Oh my god, are they gonna kiss?’ Roxy softly asks.

‘I'm afraid you're right, Lalonde.’ Vriska doesn't really seen keen on sharing her quadrant partner with John. Dave just stares at you two. With some concern in his voice, John says:

‘Maybe, eh, you're reading me wrong…’

‘I know I'm not reading you wrong,’ you say. ‘All the signs of a, somewhat clumsy, start to a black relationship are there, John.’ Now he tries to get away from you and squirms when you grab his shoulder tighter. As you lean in for a kiss, he yells at the others to help him.

‘Nah, enjoying this way too much,’ Dave says.

‘For Gog’s sake, Roxy! Vriska!’

‘Don't struggle so much, and don't bite too hard.’ When your lips are almost touching his, you say: ‘Happy April Fools day, idiot!’

He gasps for breath as you show him off you. Roxy erupts into laughter. You stand up and point at every one of them. ‘Ha! You thought you could put salt in my drink and get away with it? Well Egbert, you might have pranked me, but I got all four of you!’