Hyne's War - Chapter 34
Nida, there's something about the way you move when we fight that just isn't real. I wish I could find the words for it, but none of it makes sense. It's like, well, this is going to sound mad, but it's like you're already there when I move. Not always, not even half of the time, but sometimes you're there before I even realize where I'm going. You know before really seeming to know. Maybe it's instinct, maybe you were made for fighting the same way Squall and that ass Seifer seem to be. But I'm not sure. I'm terrified of just what it might mean. Hyne help us all if it does. Let me never find proof.
Some shifts it's easier to sleep than others. The ones where Fujin's there, massaging away the stress are easy to sleep through. The ones where she's on shift and he's alone, left to read through Elijah's journal or work on reports, that tires him out as well. It's the times when there's been news that it's hard to sleep. When he heard of a strike against Balamb repelled by a
Doomed To Dream - Part 15
There were a lot of things that Sollux had prepared himself for the possibility of when he came to Capitol. One finding some way to protect his guardian from the worst the world had to throw at him. Another was spending time with his moirail, and possibly officially sealing them into their quadrant. He'd expected sprees of watching enforcerdramas with Terezi, dragging his annoyed sit-meat all over the convention, and far too many dinners spent trying to talk Cyclos down from walking out his producers in a huff. In the beginning he'd had intentions of going to Seaedge with Terezi, spending hours getting lost in the underwater tunnels that connected the submerged city that many seatrolls called home to the official seat of Imperial power that Capitol was. More than once Sollux had heard his guardian talking about how beautiful it was to go there just after dusk, when the microscopic photosynthetic lifeforms in the water glowed an eerie shade of green and made the sea itself look like a f
Doomed To Dream - Part 14
Given the choice between racing around Capitol, trying to find the shadow that his guardian's hope rested in, and waiting around in the temporary residency hivestem, trying not to chew his arm off, Sollux would have gladly gone back to the nerves of the first nights in the city. There was little to do in his respite block, and it wasn't getting any easier to not do it. Because not doing it was indeed something that he was facing until he was literally punted out of town. Frequently he tried to contact his guardian, but the trolls who answered the line at the healthtenderstem kept turning his calls away, claiming that his guardian was asleep. Sollux was pretty sure that Cyclos had told them that he didn't want to talk to his ward yet, which was almost more frustrating than being kicked out of the Capitol. Yet, worse than that, worse than anything else that Sollux could imagine: Waleti had not stopped sending him messages.
Even now Sollux was staring at his inbox, and the ever growing li
Doomed To Dream - Part 13
Waiting, as it ever was, turned out to be the hardest part. It might have been because everything else before it had gone so well. For almost five minutes he'd sat around, watching, waiting for the right moment to act. Most of the time he spent looking at Serket's dinner companion, a lovely, taller troll woman who seemed to be dressed in a single piece of fabric that mostly wrapped around her as if it was a dress. It was simple, but the way the twining white vines seemed to spread and curl around the black fabric was quite complimentary to her well rounded shape. There was something about the not-dress, the way she wore it cinched together with a rich, jade colored sash put Sollux, for some reason, in the mind of that Gamzee Makara guy.
His moment came when the service droid made its way to the hydration counter where Sollux was sitting, and started to talk in the gibbering language that droids and drones shared. It didn't take much: just a message hastily scrawled on a napkin and slip
Doomed To Dream - Part 12
Setting up a routine was the only fair way to handle everything that Sollux needed to do on a nightly basis. In the evening he woke, saw himself through his ablutions, went to the caffeinated refreshment location for a tall cup, and made his way casually—turned out most trolls didn't like a psionic gliding through the night sky; bigots—to the convention. There was always something interesting to be done there: a lecture to see, a debate to get into, swag for the taking. Not that he saw most of it because, when the mid-night meal rolled around, Sollux set off to the next task. On even nights that meant lunch with his moirail, maybe even a little date out about the city. The mornings on those nights were spent with Cyclos, a meal together and discussions of whatever came up. The odd days were a reverse: lunch with Cyclos, maybe a bit of time trying to auspistice between him and his producers, morning meal and a pale date with Terezi. And in the time between mid-night and morn
The PlanHow had it gotten to this point? How in all of paradox space had it gotten to a point where Karkat could sit there, staring down with cold and pained eyes at a hole riddled, blood stained god tier outfit. He deserved better than this. Better than staring down at the blood that ringed and dripped from the holes, the color of the blood only slightly darker and richer than the inherent purple of the outfit. What kind of universe were they living in where Karkat had to sit there and mourn his moirail even though they were in a limbo of a kind that kept them separated from the war going on around them for a while longer?
What was the point of the question? Gamzee had to shake his head as it came up in his pan. He knew how he'd gotten here, how they'd gotten here, but did that make it better? There was Karkat, staring down at the blood, still in a kind of shock that Gamzee couldn't quite shake him out of. It was silly for him to be so out of it too, it wasn't like Gamzee was really hurt. The
Hyne's War - Chapter 33
The sound of booted feet echoes down the hall, and in truth Nida wasn't completely sure whether they were the sound of his own feet, or those of someone he was chasing. He wasn't even sure if he knew how to tell the difference anymore, not with how long he'd been running. So many things were blurring together now, he didn't know why he was here, didn't know where he was going, didn't know what to do when he got there. But he'd grown used to such things out of life, hadn't he? Wasn't this part of the price that he paid for the relative 'comfort' of following destiny's pull around, like a fish hooked and drawn in slowly but unerringly, towards the shore.
There's a weight in his hand, one he couldn't remember being there before. Not his normal weapon, that much he's sure of. No, the weight is different, the grip, it's one he isn't as sure of, one he is less families with. A sword, weighted differently from what he was used to using, and yet still comforting in his hand. The
Doomed To Dream - Part 11
Were it not for the fact that Terezi had classes to deal with first thing in the evening, Sollux would have spent the day there, held in her bony arms and loving every minute of it. As it was, though, she rolled them both off of the slab long before the first hint of dusk. Not that Sollux wasn't bordering on being awake anyway; it was just that he had loved spending the day in her arms, loved the way that it had seemed to make everything quieter in his dreams, kept the voices that he didn't want to hear at bay. Not that he began to believe, even for a moment, that just because he couldn't hear them that they weren't there. Just because he wanted it to be gone didn't mean his guardian was safe, and in truth he owed it to himself and Cyclos to see that his guardian would be safe.
So Sollux too prepared himself for the day by switching into new clothes, eating a breakfast of cluckbeast eggs and fried oinkbeast meat with Terezi and her guardian Pyrali Sprite, and then it was out the door,