#dirks face in every scene im just going to stare at him

[h3rmitsunited]

It's so funny at the end of s1, the differences in how Blackwing approaches catching Bart, the Rowdy 3 and Dirk.

Like Dirk gets Friedkin just like howdy

And apparently takes like two seconds to get him hoisted away given how quickly they cut back to Farah looking for him.

The Rowdy 3 had a bit more danger involved

So Blackwing uses smoke cover and brings a fair number of guys, which obviously is effective enough since they are captured in s2, apart from Vogel (and Amanda) who get away.

And then Bart is my favorite

Surrounded on all sides by armed soldiers, big trucks and a big ass tank

And my girl stands up with a freaking rock in her hand

And gets away from these assholes.

You love to see it.

[panticwritten]

Homecoming

I figure, to celebrate making through the summer, I’ll post one of the scenes I’ve been working on. It’s basically how Connor got back to the Cube three days before An Idiot’s Return.

Word Count: 2,978

Content warnings

Hallucinations

Implied suicidal ideology

Let me know if I missed any!

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I huddle in the corner of a room. Their room. Jess’s room, from home. Sometimes it turns into their father’s living room, but it’s normally the mess of a room that Jess used to hide in. We used to be there every day.

Together.

Now, there are three different projections of them all talking at once. They don’t acknowledge each other—or make any sense—but they’re all enthusiastic and happy to see me. They keep their eyes on me and pause regularly as if I’m actually answering them.

I sent my double back to the Cube.

He deserves to be there more than me. I can still feel the toxic ability in my head. I can’t go back, not if I want to keep everyone safe. From what I know, Jess is recovering just fine without me there.

I cover my face with my hands and slump against the wall.

I can’t tell what’s real anymore. What’s true.

“Even in the square root so tired so good what do you mean damn metaphors im trying ill show them symbolism it was awesome i thought it was good rewriting history, ha—”

“I’m fine.”

The three voices vanish in favor of one that doesn’t quite sound right. Irritated. Tired. Definitely doesn’t sound fine. I don’t move.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting this to be easy. I’m still not sure if I believe I’m talking to the real you.”

I fall to the side when the wall containing the room disappears. I curl in on myself and wait. I need to know who it is. I need to know what new thing the memories are offering me now. If I can ignore it, maybe I won’t have to deal with it for a while.

“How are the boys? I know I said I’d come over, but—”

The voice cuts off, and now footsteps join it. I think I might know who it is, and I don’t know if I can handle a projection of Jay telling me how wrong I am. How I can’t complain because they told me there were better ways to do this.

They told me and they were right.

“Holy shit, I think that’s him.”

I finally uncover my face and open bleary eyes. A figure approaches—sound says at a jog, but I really can’t tell—but I don’t move to greet them. I wait to see what they’ll say. To see if they’ll be nice or not.

“Connor?”

A hesitant hand touches my arm and quickly disappears. They lean close until I can almost actually make out the details of their face. It definitely looks like them. Maybe splinters of Jess project correctly.

“Can you sit up?”

I don’t really want to, but I force myself upright and rub my eyes. Maybe I’ll actually be able to see the flaws in my memories if I can see straight.

Ha.

“Yeah. Yes, D, I found him. Tell j355 to get back on the line.”

A crackle of sound from whatever device they have. I blink at them, but my vision is still blurry. If I give it a few minutes, they should go back to normal.

“I know. Yes. 65%. We’ll find out when I get back.”

“Goodie,” I mutter. “Another daring rescue attempt.”

They still.

“Scratch that. 90%.” They stoop down next to me. “How many times has someone tried to get you out?”

I rub my eyes again while I think on it.

“Lost count,” I eventually say.

“Will you walk with me, at the very least?”

They crouch on their heels with a hand extended to me. If I say no, will they go away? Will I have a minute for my mind to just be here, wherever here ends up being? Just a minute without a projection trying to give me false hope?

I sigh and take their hand. It’s better than being alone.

They reach up with their other hand to touch their ear.

“Make sure no one enters the lab without my express permission.”

They stand and pull me up after them. I’m almost surprised that I don’t sway. They immediately start forward and I follow at their side. I’ll humor them until they phase out like the others. They have good intentions, even if they aren’t real.

“How long has it been since you and Jordan split apart?”

Jordan?

I stare blankly at them and realize my vision has returned mostly back to normal. They don’t look altered at all. That’s almost scarier than if I’d been given proof that they’re just an image. The idea that they might actually be here is too dangerous to entertain.

It’ll hurt more when they turn out not to be.

“The other half of you?” Jay prompts.

They aren’t supposed to know about that. My double went back, he should have returned and taken on who we were to make it easier for everyone else. That’s what I would have done. If they think he has a different name—if they know about him at all—this can’t really be them.

I answer anyway.

“I don’t know. Time doesn’t work right here.”

“If it helps you remember,” they offer. “I’ve been looking for you for five days and he’d been in the Cube for a week before coming to me.”

“About three weeks, then,” I amend. “Why did he come to you?”

“He inherited the power of manipulation. He wanted me to help him control it.”

No.

I stop and let my hand fall out of theirs. There are more and more strikes against this really being them. Of course my biggest fears would come to haunt me like this. A blessing of a rescue coming with the knowledge that, not only did Jordan reject the plan we’d made, he’s still just as capable of relapsing into unhealthy control as I am.

“Connor?”

I shake my head.

“We have to go back. I can tell without even running any tests, you’re unstable.”

They’re so worried. They believe they’re real. That they can get me out. That there’s any way I could leave the memories now. I’ve been replaced, and everyone’s safe and everyone’s fine. That has to be the truth, so they can’t really be here.

“You’re going to fall apart if you stay here. You’ll disappear.”

“Good!”

Their breath catches, and I’ve never seen Jay so scared. Not even when Jess almost died. They stare at me, gaze not wavering when an indistinct voice chatters through their com.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” I growl. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold it together if they stay here. “Now leave.”

“You don’t mean that,” they repeat. They speak firmer this time. Either they know something or they’re trying to convince us both.

“Please. Just go.” I take a step back, but they follow.

“If you meant it,” their voice cracks, but their stare is too intense for me to think of them as uncertain. “I wouldn’t have a choice about it, would I?”

Any argument I might have dries up in my throat.

They nod and finally look away. They dig in their coat. Before they even withdraw their hand, a door appears in front of them.

“If I had any sense, I wouldn’t have wasted time talking.” They jam a key in the door and jerk it open. “Thought it might be jarring to go straight back, but I obviously have terrible judgement out here.”

They hold the door open for me, and I stare through it. The fluorescent lights of the lab wink back at me. It could still be a trick. Another trick of the memories to keep me from even thinking about finding a way out.

Still, if this is real, there’s someone unconscious on their floor. They’re too busy watching me to see them, so I cross the threshold without much hesitation.

“Oh, thank god. Did you—” The voice over the intercom cuts off.  “Which one are you?”

“Connor.”

J355 sighs in relief as I kneel at beside the limp body on the floor. It’s D, Dirk’s older brother. I don’t even get a chance to check whether or not he’s injured before Jay drops down on his other side and presses two fingers into his neck.

Their sigh of relief calms me down just a little.

“What happened?” they call, turning their sharp gaze into the air. “Where’s Jordan?”

“Gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” Jay hisses. “Disable the scramblers for ten seconds.”

They turn their attention back to D to press their hand against his forehead. The flow of emotion in the room spikes, a mess of anxiety and frustration, and D jerks upright.

“Holy fuck,” he gasps.

After a second, he scrambles to his feet without looking at either of us.

“Where’d he go?”

“He ran into the memories. I couldn’t stop him, I—” j355 pauses and a soft whir overtakes the intercoms for a second. My ability to sense the others’ emotions vanishes once again. “I’m sorry.”

“Damn.”

D turns back to us, and I can’t quite make out his eyes behind his shades. His flinch upon seeing me is almost imperceptible, but I think he knows it’s me. He doesn’t immediately accuse me of anything, at least. Instead, he turns to Jay to offer them a hand.

“I let slip why you ran out.” He tugs them to their feet, but I don’t wait for anyone else’s help before reconfiguring myself to be upright. “He panicked or something, I don’t know. S’the last thing I remember, at least.”

“He used you to disable my drone,” j355 explains. “Then you collapsed. Christ. I had to check your vitals to be sure you weren’t dead.”

“Sorry,” I mutter. At the slight frown D directs at me, I continue. “I fucked up. This whole thing was pointless and stupid, Jordan wouldn’t even be here if I wasn’t so—”

“There’s nothing you can do about it now.” Jay pushes past me into the lab. They call out into the empty space. “Where are you?”

“Table D9. I fell out of camera sight, so I’m not sure if I’m under the table or—”

“Here.” They duck under a table and pick up a drone. “You shouldn’t have to use one of these soon. Let’s get you up and running again.”

They wander into another room without looking back, so I’m left alone with a vastly older version of Dave than I’ve ever talked to. He looks after them with a deep frown. I didn’t know they were close.

“Hal wanted me to ask if you’d tell him about the memories,” he says without warning. It takes me a second to even realize he’s talking to me. “I have a feeling he’ll just swipe Jay’s files after they talk to you about it, but still.”

He shifts his weight and looks at me over his shades. There’s something unnerving about seeing an aged version of one of your friends. Something strange and uncomfortable, and I can’t help but like him immediately.

“Yeah, I—” I clench my fists until my nails dig into my palm. “Once I convince myself I’m really here, I’ll swing by.”

“Good. No running back out there, right?” He turns back to lab at large to watch the door Jay left through, so I can’t read him again. “A lot of folks would be pretty pissed if you turned right around and got yourself lost again.”

“How the hell did you end up being Jay’s friend?” I grumble.

“Ah, well.” He rubs the back of his neck and makes a face. “I came by after everything with the asshole version of Dave’s bro. They let me bring everyone else, now I always seem to be finding myself back here.”

Huh. Jay’s been holding out on me.

“Then again,” he muses. He tilts his head to look back at me with a rueful smile. “Bro and I have unofficially adopted half the Cube by now. With Jess caring so much about them, Roxy and the Captors hacking into their servers—and don’t even get me started on the rest of The Collective getting all catty about whatever the hell they’re doing back here—all that on top of Dirk and Hal poking around for parts, I’d’ve found my way here eventually.”

What the fuck? The Strider’s are looking out for everyone now? When the hell did that happen?

I cover my face with my hands and lean back against a table with a shaky laugh.

“God, I’m so out of the loop.”

“Wait ‘til you see the map the other kids are putting together.” He ruffles my hair and, god, I think D Strider just claimed me as a part of his family, what the fuck?

My legs buckle, but a chair I distinctly remember there not being catches me. This can’t be real. This is like the Cube I left, but swapped around and made different. I shake my head against the thought, but I can’t keep my mouth from opening.

“We’ve left the alpha timeline.”

D barks a laugh, and even Jay and j355 join in. The sound crowds around me, and I’m scared to move my hands or open my eyes. The prospect of finding out this was another piece of fiction bestowed by the memories is too painful. What would I even do?

Am I even capable of getting out anymore? Maybe I’m just a part of the memories now.

The laughter stops, I don’t know if it even lasted longer than a few seconds, but the silence is worse. It tells me it’s gone. I’m going to open my eyes and it’ll just be dark, maybe another projection of Jess waiting for me to talk to it. The disappointment is already too much to handle, and I haven’t even confirmed it.

Then, it’s not quiet anymore.

J355 whirs and thanks Jay, the distinct sound of a drone buzzing through the air joining their soft conversation. It sounds like D joined them further away, but I didn’t hear him leave. The Striders can just do that, I guess.

“I don’t have a way to track him,” Jay says, finally loud enough for me to make out. “He could already be swallowed in the memories, we don’t know.”

“Any chance he might come back on his own?”

The pause is just long enough for me to answer.

“No.” I uncover my eyes and locate the trio all the way across the room. “He thinks he’s a danger to everyone in the Cube. That we could fuse back together if we’re not careful. Even if we don’t, the two of us in one place with the kind of manipulation we have—”

“Connor.” J355’s voice washes over me, soothing and calm. I rein myself in.

“I’m just saying. He’s not coming back.”

“You’re right, sounds just like Dirk,” D mutters. Jay smacks his arm, earning a shrug. “Just sayin’, you can’t go blaming every little thing another version of you does on yourself. Jess doesn’t even do that, and they’re—well.”

He makes a gesture at the room at large.

Yeah, they’ve got plenty of versions of themself that have done shitty things. They’ve got plenty of versions of themself, period. I don’t know how they manage to keep everything straight or in order. I can barely handle having one.

“Dirk catches himself in the same cyclical thinking.” He raises a hand, stops himself, and starts again. “Or, everyone else catches him and he backpedals. Can he blame alternate versions of himself for doing crap he would never do? Is the fact that he’s scared of doing that a sign that he’s a good one? Then it goes to, thinking he’s a good one might be a sign of a shitty one’s ego, and on and on.”

“We’ve been working on that,” Jay chides. “Jess gets a lot of those guides to break out of negative cycles of thought, they help.”

They go back and forth like this awhile. I guess they’re both pretty interested in the well-being of the younger Striders. They mention the two versions of Dave, but then the alternate version of his brother comes up and the topic is dropped altogether.

The longer I’m here, the more convinced I am that it’s real.

I dig my nails into the arms of the chair just to prove I can, then lift my hands to stare at the marks left in the fabric. Cause and effect, it works here. I do it again and again on different parts of the chair, then I stand.

Jay and D both fall silent to look at me. I don’t know what they see, but I know for a fact I’m hyperventilating. I stare at them.

Then I seize a stack of papers from the table I’ve been sitting next to and throw it into the air. Jay objects, but j355 says something I don’t quite catch to shut them up.

I’m too busy watching the papers fall. And they do fall. They don’t just phase out or drop like rocks, don’t warp the air around them or change the surrounding room other than the complete mess they make. The papers fall how paper is supposed to.

I choke out a sound, and I’m not sure if it’s a laugh or a sob until it comes again. This time, when I fall to my knees I do land on the floor. I cover my mouth against the hysterical, hiccupping laughs. There’s nothing I can to about the hot tears squeezing past my eyes.

I’m out.

I’m here, this is the Cube.

Jay and D kneel at my side and try to get me to talk to them, but I can’t. I can’t even begin to find the words. There’s nothing I can say to relate this to them.

I’m home.

[blatherkatt]

Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 33: Declarations 

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Implied/Mentioned abuse, mentions of terrorism, death mention, injury mention, depiction of an emotional breakdown, trauma aftermath; Illustrated; Pesterlog

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

— carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling tipsyGnostalgic [TG] —

CG: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?

— tipsyGnostalgic [TG] is an idle chum! —

CG: FUCK YOU, I CAN SEE THAT FOR MYSELF, YOU PIECE OF SHIT PROGRAM. I’M GONNA FUCKING YELL ANYWAY.

CG: I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO PICK ME UP AT NOON. IT’S LIKE, 1:30 AND YOU STILL AREN’T HERE, WHAT GIVES?

CG: IF YOU GOT KIDNAPPED, TOO, I SWEAR TO FUCK I’M PERSONALLY PUTTING THIS ENTIRE GODDAMN FAMILY UNDER PERMANENT WATCH.

CG: I’M NOT ABOVE SITTING ON YOU ASSHOLES IF THATS WHAT IT TAKES.

TG: okay first off i know youre like a literal alien but heres a protip for ya:

TG: general human earth etiquette is to not text people who you know are probably driving?

TG: its like a whole thing

CG: WHY

TG: idk probs because texting while driving’s a great way to fucking crash lol

TG: anyway!!

TG: yeah im real sorry about that mom fucking rang me up like

TG: hi im at the airport come get me!

TG: out of fucking nowhere because everything has to be a fucking hassle with this woman

TG: so i had to go get her

CG: WHY THE FUCK WAS SHE AT THE AIRPORT?

TG: because fuck me is why

TG: and THEN shes like

TG: ooooh i gotta do some mysterious whatthefuckever errand at some mall out in the middle of nowhere

TG: so now im sitting in the parking lot waiting for her to get back which might be a while because her bad leg’s been acting up lately

TG: and thats why im not there yet >:(

CG: WAIT. WAIT, HOLD ON, I’M CONFUSED.

CG: BY “MOM” ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT RACHEL? I DIDN’T EVEN THINK SHE HAD A BAD LEG.

TG: nonono

TG: ray is like. dirk and dave and rose’s mom

TG: i dont call her mom i just call her aunt ray cuz shes not my mom yknow

TG: my mom is aunt ray’s sister

TG: aunt ramona? they talk about her?

CG: OOOOOOH. YEAH.

CG: THE WOMAN WHO WRITES THOSE SHITTY SUPERNATURAL ROMANCE BOOKS KANAYA LOVES.

TG: hahaha yeah her trashy shit is great

CG: SHE’S HERE?

TG: apparently!!!!!!!!

CG: I’M SENSING SOME BITTERNESS.

TG: ugh its fine she just always does shit like this

TG: womans always gotta make a fuckin entrance even if that means not telling anyone shes coming

TG: and its goddamn annoying as shit!!

TG: but its fine i get it shes here to help out and we are kinda all hands on deck

TG: speaking of tho i heard something about kanaya not coming along after all?

CG: NOT YET, NO.

CG: SHE’S BEEN TALKING TO ROSE, AND APPARENTLY DAVE’S BEEN PRETTY UNEASY WITH THE NUMBER OF NEW FACES AT THE HIVE.

CG: HOUSE. WHATEVER.

CG: TEREZI’S PROTECTION DETAIL HAS HIM KIND OF ON EDGE, I GUESS?

CG: SHE’S GONNA COME AROUND LATER PROBABLY. AND MIGHT END UP STAYING WITH PORRIM AND KEEP IT TO VISITS, AT LEAST UNTIL THINGS SETTLE DOWN A BIT.

CG: SO IT’S JUST ME FOR NOW.

TG: ooooh yeah geez i bet

TG: poor dave :( :( :(

TG: i gotta tell you and mom some uh. serious shit about him when i pick you both up

TG: id pass it on here but its probs better if i just tell you face to face?

CG: OH, WONDERFUL!

CG: MORE NO DOUBT HORRIFIC NEWS REGARDING DAVE.

CG: I CAN’T WAIT. THIS PANIC ATTACK’S GONNA BE ONE FOR THE RECORD BOOKS, I CAN JUST FEEL IT!!!

TG: :(

TG: tl;dr hes not in great shape but hes getting better but theres some stuff we gotta go over

TG: jfc mom what the fuck are you doing its been ages

CG: SO WAIT. SHE JUST HAD YOU DRIVE HER OUT SOMEWHERE AND WALKED OFF ALONE?

TG: yeah

TG: woman can take care of herself just fine so like im not worried??

TG: but still, like. cmon woman!!! whatever it is hurry up a little

TG: it cant be that important we got places to be

In terms of location, it was almost an outlet mall; somewhat detached from the nearest city and surrounded by forest. It was mostly all one building, positioned in a dip in the ground next to a clear stream, and these features had helped make it a serviceable fortress during the invasion, although Derek had regularly complained that he’d have preferred a site that held the high ground. Still, they’d made do; the roof was high enough that one could see for quite some distance, the stream offered fresh water, the trees provided decent enough cover during skirmishes, and the walls were thick enough to turn away most weather and weapons. It hadn’t been much, but it had served well enough as home for six years for around threescore ragtag survivors-turned-fighters.

Out in the surrounding forest, those who hadn’t survived that conflict still lay buried in pitiful graves marked only with a stone or a chunk of wood. There hadn’t been time to properly put anyone to rest; it had been risky enough for two or three people to slip out during a stretch of quiet with a shovel and a body. They simply hadn’t been able to afford to have any sort of formal burial, not with the threat of an attack constantly looming.

Even so, even so…

Derek had picked a spot he would remember.

In life, the oak tree would have been the kind people would have thought of as a monarch, with branches spread wide and gnarled wood ancient and strong, holding children in its branches as easily as if they were made of nothing; but the tree had already been dead by the time the invasion started, a great, ancient, dried-out husk. Even so, decades later, it still stood, its branches reaching toward the sky, the other trees forming a circle around it as though too respectful to come too close. Mushrooms and trails of greenery crept about a quarter of the way up the ancient trunk.

At its roots, a rotting wooden spar stuck up out of the ground. This, too, had been reclaimed by flowers, grasses and mushrooms, decorating the splintered and decayed timber with dark summer greens and pale white-and-lavender blooms.

Derek Strider, down on one knee with his sheathed sword held in his right hand, sighed. Of course, the trouble with having to bury the dead so hastily meant that there’d been no one to look over the graves, so it was to be expected that it be in such disrepair, but even so, seeing this one choked out by the invading flora was…

It wasn’t right.

Overhead, the ancient branches rustled slightly, and the raucous calling of a bird broke the silence. Derek narrowed his eyes and ignored it, tried to write the disrespectful noise out of the scene.

The crow seemed to have other ideas. The bird lighted down on the wooden grave marker, red eyes fixed on Derek’s face. It flapped its wings a few times, cawing incessantly. Derek scowled, unsheathed his sword, and struck —

The blade passed through the bird with no resistance whatsoever. The creature’s body split in two, bloodlessly, as though Derek had cut through smoke — it even looked like smoke, like a cloud cut in two by a passing jet. As Derek looked on, uncomprehending and with a growing sense of dread, the bird’s body seemed to pull itself back together, a video played in reverse, and the bird’s accusatory squawks started up again as though nothing had happened.

Derek was on his feet in an instance, stepping away from the beast, and as he did, he happened to look up…

Perched on nearly every branch of the old tree were ravens. Unlike the crow, they were all silent, and aside from the occasional shifting of a foot or tilting of a head, motionless. Scores of staring animal eyes bored into him.

Derek had never been a superstitious man, but nor was he the sort of fool to ignore the truth his own eyes showed him. He’d spent six years fighting alongside a witch, and seen enough to learn that some things really couldn’t be explained away as coincidence.

Had it been anyone else, he would have responded to the sound of footsteps approaching this site with a furious attack; even Ben knew better than to disturb him here. But when he whirled to face the intruder, he froze.

She’d aged more since he’d last seen her than he would have expected. Hints of silver streaked her hair, and she leaned heavily on her gnarled black cane. A faint breeze stirred the black fabric of her dress, playing with the light shawl laying across her shoulders. The crow had fallen silent.

“Put that thing away before you take someone’s eye out,” said Ramona, nodding nonchalantly at Derek’s sword.

Derek narrowed his eyes, and did not respond aloud, instead choosing to slowly and deliberately slide the sword back into its sheathe. Only after his left hand had returned to his side did Ramona nod and continue.

“That’s better,” she said. “Now we can talk things over like reasonable adults. Mind you, I ought to do the world a favor and wipe you out right now,” and Derek took a slow, deep breath at that, as she continued, “But I’d prefer not to desecrate your brother’s grave by staining it with your blood. I respect him far too much for that. You, however, have somehow managed to exceed all of my worst expectations to a nearly unfathomable degree, as of late. I’ve held off on this confrontation out of respect for the past, but I can see now that this was a mistake.”

Derek shifted. “Everything I’ve done has been to protect our damn planet, Ramona,” he started, but was cut off.

“Really?” she said, “Well, then. I’m not about to attempt to ask you to cease killing trolls, as we both know that would be pointless, but I would very much like to know how exactly burning your own son alive plays into your grand battle strategy?”

“He…he turned on us,” Derek said, through gritted teeth, “He forced my hand, left me no choice!”

“He is a child!” Ramona snapped. “And you, of all people, should know better! If you really must follow this path of self-destruction to its end, fine, but he should never have been involved!”

“I—”

“And in any case, you had a perfectly good sword on hand, I’m sure. If young Dave really did need to die, you could have executed him with minimal pain, but no, you wanted him to hurt, to know he was dying and to fear you and suffer as he passed. How do you justify that, Derek? How does anyone, especially a child, deserve anything of the sort?”

The eyes of the ravens and that damned crow still drilled into him. He could feel the stares on his back, but kept his eyes locked on Ramona’s, refusing to back down.

He wasn’t going to take back what he’d done. There’d be no guilt, he’d done nothing wrong except overreact a bit. It was justified. That…that boy wasn’t Dave. Ramona was using the name like a blade, but she’d not win that way. He didn’t deserve the fucking name, didn’t deserve to have anything to do with Dave, he never would have let Rachel name the kid that if he’d known he was going to grow up to be such a pathetic, useless little coward.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he said.

“No, I suppose you don’t,” said Ramona, folding her hands over the top of her cane. “I’ve a fairly good idea, in any case.” She sighed. “The war is over, Derek. The time to put aside this violence and misery is long since behind us. Our children do not deserve to grow up as we did.”

“The trolls are still here,” Derek spat.

There was a long silence. Ramona sighed again.

“Fine, then,” she said, “So be it. Do as you will. Chase violence as long as you like. But if you come near my family again, I will consider it an act of war.”

She turned, and he was tempted to take the bait, to try attacking her while her back was turned, but he held still. It was infuriating, knowing what a pointed insult turning her back on him was, knowing that she knew he would not risk attacking her—but she was right. She was much too dangerous.

“Come along, little one,” she said, abruptly. The crow rose off the grave and flew to land on top of Ramona’s cane. If Derek had cared to pay any attention, he might have noticed the crow look back at him with something like regret in its eyes, but Derek was already far too lost in his own thoughts.

As one bird, the ravens took wing, dispersing in all directions, leaving him alone again.

The trouble with trying to go from Alternian to English was a multifaceted one, to be sure, but so far the most obnoxious piece of it that Karkat could see was the tendency of guides on how to speak English to simply use the closest Alternian equivalent as an English word’s translation. More and more, the two languages were notably extremely different, and while he could speak English well enough that he’d never had any serious problems, there were any number of words that he kept tripping over as a result of a translation being extremely unclear and culturally misleading.

Witches, for instance, were clearly something very different on Earth. The Alternian word that was translated to English as “witch” was, like most Alternian words, a series of noises in the ‘click and growl’ family that most humans lacked the anatomy to create, and generally refered to certain lowblood prophets and healers in Alternian folklore. They were those who lived away from society and who, through some lucky genetics and convenient psychic powers, were able to fend of drones and effectively disappear from the world at large’s knowledge. They kept to themselves, sought to harm no one who didn’t attack them first, offered shelter to the weak and the hunted, and as such were always portrayed as utterly despicable beings in fiction, as no writer with any sense of self-preservation had dared to portray such reckless treachery under the rule of the last Condesce. There might have been some changes to the lore under the new one’s rule, but things like that changed slow.

In any case, they certainly weren’t anything like the old woman in a shawl who was sitting next to Roxy in the front of her car.

She was dressed all in black, for one thing. Alternian witches didn’t tend to wear much black. Some Alternian witches didn’t tend to wear all that much clothing at all, really. Most seemed to belong to ancient religions that weren’t particularly fond of shirts.

Ramona was definitely magic as shit, though, Rachel’d been right about that much. Was that all a witch was on Earth, just someone with magic? Fuck, if that were the case, then probably like at least a third of all trolls were witches by Earth’s standards. Then again, maybe magic was another poorly translated word? English didn’t seem to have a word to separate “things that we (read: trolls) know exist, like psychic powers and psiionics and ghosts and chucklevoodoos,” and “things that are super fake and don’t actually happen ever and make no sense.”

Whatever. In any case, Ramona didn’t look at all like Karkat had expected, and when he climbed into the back of the car, she didn’t react to his presence with anything stronger than an amiable nod. She seemed to have her mind on other things, and was largely silent at first.

Roxy wasn’t; she immediately piped up happily as Karkat swung open the door with a “Hey, man! Sorry about taking so long! Can you, uh, do me a favor and check on Jaspers? He’s in the carrier behind Mom, Rose asked me to pick him up while she and Aunt Ray were gone. He’s been missing them a lot, all staring out the window and kneading his blanket and shit, and he’s not a huge fan of car rides.”

“He’s asleep,” Karkat said after glancing into the little crate.

“Awesome. Alright, buckle up and we’ll get this damn show on the road.”

“On the road again, just can’t wait to get on—”

Karkat tilted his head as the car’s radio abruptly changed from quietly playing some human pop song over to something much louder and completely different. Ramona stifled a snort as Roxy stabbed a button, switching the radio back to the previous channel.

“No, thank you,” she said, glaring. “Christ, the fuck is with this thing today, I swear to god.”

“I suppose it may simply be getting into the spirit of things,” said Ramona with a smile. As the car pulled away from the curb, she turned back a bit to face Karkat. “It’s Karkat, isn’t it? Rachel’s been sending me any number of emails with updates, and from the sound of things, you’ve been rather instrumental in bringing young Dave back into the fold, so to speak.”

“…Into the what?”

“It’s a figure of speech, meaning in this case that you’ve helped us return him home as well as helping him to adjust to being there,” she said. “For which you have all of our heartfelt thanks. Ours is perhaps not the most functional of families, but it  is ours, and as I’m sure you’ve seen firsthand, ripping away a piece of it the way Derek did has had some very painful consequences for all involved. We owe you a great deal.”

“Yeah, man!” Roxy said. “And from what Rose has been telling me, you were kind of a big part of why he finally spilled what he knows. Which, he did bee-tee-dubs, which means he’s off house arrest finally, so that’s good—”

“—And a partridge in a pear tree,” the radio crackled.

“What the fuck? It’s August,” Roxy scowled. She turned the radio off altogether as Ramona glanced hurriedly out the window.

“Speaking of Dave,” Karkat said, hopefully before anyone got distracted again, “Roxy, you mentioned that there was something that you needed to say face to face?”

“Right, shoot, yeah,” said Roxy. The car turned onto the long road that led eventually to the Lalonde hive. “Okay, so, like. There’s definitely some shit you should know before we get there, but I wanna preface it all real clearly by saying that Dave’s okay, y’know? He’s got a lot of healing to do, but the doctors said that as long as he’s looked after and we change bandages and shit and he gets plenty of rest, he’s definitely not in any danger anymore. He’s…weak, but he’s not like gonna keel over at any moment, okay?”

“Not actually making me feel any better, Roxy!” said Karkat. Oh, boy, with a preface like that…

“Well, fuck, I tried, I guess. Uh. So, Dave did get hurt…pretty bad, and there were some other complications—oh, for fuck’s sake!!”

“Watch me, watch me, hey, watch me, watch me!” The radio was louder than ever. Ramona’s hand flew up, poorly hiding a grin.

Karkat leaned around Roxy’s seat to glare at her.

“What the fuck, Roxy,” said Karkat.

“I’m not doing this!” Roxy said, waving her hand wildly. “I swear to fuck, I wouldn’t! I really do need to pass on some shit about poor Dave, and the radio’s never done this before? It’s been acting up since a little before we picked you up, keeps changing on its own and shit, augh!”

She fought with the controls, but the song stopped only for a moment before getting even louder.

“Why the fuck do you humans even have this obnoxious song?! Who listens to this?? It’s literally just some squawking wiggler screeching for its lusus’s attention!”

“I mean, I kinda love it for that honestly, it’s terrible and stupid and wonderful, but like, come the fuck on??? What’s with this thing?! Now is not the time!”

“Ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass—“

“GOD, that’s even worse!!” Roxy yelled, slamming her fist down on the dashboard. “Fucking stop!!”

“That’s enough for now,” Ramona said, almost murmuring it.

The radio turned off. Karkat and Roxy both turned a suspicious eye on Ramona, and with equal simultaneity, decided to drop it for now.

“Anyway,” Roxy said slowly, “What I was trying to say is, um…Karkat, do you know what it means for someone to ‘flatline?’ Because, um. Dave kinda did, for like, a minute and a half.”

Karkat shook his head, realized Roxy probably couldn’t see him with her eyes on the road, and said, “Uh, I have no idea what that word means, no.”

“Well, um…”

“It refers to a heart monitor indicating that the heart has ceased beating,” Ramona said. “The machine indicates activity with a line which shows peaks and valleys, and it goes flat when that activity has stopped, thus, ‘flatline’. The organ we call a heart serves an equivalent function to what trolls call a ‘blood pusher’ or a ‘pump biscuit.’”

Karkat felt for a moment like his own pump biscuit had stopped.

“Shit, Mom, when did you get so good at translating to trolls?” Roxy murmured.

Ramona shrugged. “I’ve made efforts to reach out,” she said. “The war ended, after all, and since we’re allies now, it doesn’t hurt to learn about each others’ cultures.”

“His fucking—What?!” Karkat screeched, unable to keep the harsh buzzing whine out of his voice. God, that was such a moirail noise, and any other time he’d have yelled at himself for not keeping it under control, but not now, not when… “His fucking blood pusher stopped and I’m supposed to be calm!?!”

“They got it moving again!” Roxy said. “He’s okay now, the doctors said it was going strong! It was, um, mostly just exhaustion, they think? Like, the burn wounds could’ve killed him on their own, sure, but they got on those quick enough that if he’d been healthy to begin with he probably wouldn’t have been so bad off? But between ten years of, you know…and just, apparently he hasn’t been eating enough even while he’s been back with us? And Ray’s gonna get on his ass about that, but, just—look, the thing is, Dirk doesn’t know about this yet, and Aunt Ray’s asked that we try to keep it that way, and I don’t really get why but I think she has her reasons?”

Karkat was definitely hyperventilating, oh fuck, oh fuck—Ramona’s hand reached back to touch his own, snapping him out of it.

“It’s fine to be worried,” she said, gentle. “I promise you, though, it is as Roxy says: he’ll be fine given time to recover and the safety with which to do so. He’ll be alive when we get there.” She sat back in her chair, turning towards the road again. “As for Dirk, I suspect Rachel is waiting for things to settle down before breaking it to him gently. He is, for better or worse, very like his father, and Derek handled his brother’s death poorly, in large part because at the time we could not afford to mourn. Rachel probably wants to make sure that Dirk does not feel he has to force himself to be strong when she tells him.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Roxy muttered. “Anyway, the main thing about that is that he’s not got a lot of energy right now, so don’t…take it personally if he just falls asleep on you sometimes? Especially with the painkillers he’s on, apparently that’s a side effect, too. He can walk short distances, but he gets wobbly quick and needs help sometimes, so there’s that too.”

“Fuck,” said Karkat, softly.

The next ten minutes of the ride were carried out in tense silence. This was broken by the radio once again bursting back on and blasting the ass song again, at which point Roxy threatened to pull over and smash the fucking thing to smithereens.

By the time they actually got to the fucking house, Karkat felt like his soul was going to vibrate right out of his fucking body with impatience. They had yet another delay in the form of Terezi’s protection detail—Terezi herself wasn’t there, but some officers were, and they insisted on knowing about any weapons the three of them had as well as names, and went in to check with the family while making them all wait outside by the car. Karkat already had his fucking bag in hand, he was ready to go, but no, they had to go through this tedious procedure! Sure, it was probably a smart move, and when he was feeling a little more sensible he’d be more okay with it as it was the sort of thing that probably would make them all feel a bit safer (especially poor fucking Dave), but right now the were a pain in the ass and he was going to fucking explode!!! If they didn’t!!! Let him get in the fucking hive!!!!!

Rose stepped out as they were still talking to the police, and for the first time in his life Karkat was unspeakably happy to see her. She quickly confirmed to the police that all three of them were in fact expected and trusted by this household, and then gently let Jaspers out of his carrier. The cat immediately yowled and threw himself into her arms, kneading at her shoulders and rubbing his face against hers, and it all would have been super cute if Karkat didn’t have his mind on other fucking things.

“Come on in,” Rose said, nodding towards the door. “Dirk’s on the couch and Dave’s in Mom’s room, as neither of them can handle stairs right now and Dave needs his bandages changed at least twice a day. Karkat, do you—”

She was talking to air. He was already in the fucking door.

And then had to face the fact that he’d never actually been to Rachel’s room. Fuck. Rachel was coming up the hall, though, and a slightly bewildered young human (wait, fuck, that was Dirk, what happened to his hair? It looked so weird hanging down like that instead of spiked up) was sitting on the couch with an Earth husktop on his lap. Roxy pushed in the door with Ramona right behind her, dropped a heavy wheeled bag right next to the door, and immediately launched herself at Dirk, who gave a startled yelp as she did so.

Rachel rested a hand on Karkat’s shoulder as she passed him, rushing up toward Ramona throwing her arms around her shoulders. The two shared a long hug, and Rachel kissed Ramona’s cheek.

“God, I’m so glad you’re here,” Karkat heard Rachel murmur, before Rose tapped his shoulder.

“I was asking if you knew where Mom’s room is,” Rose said.

“Uh.”

“It’s down the hall to the observatory, but you take a left before you get to it. Make sure to make plenty of noise on the way over, Dave gets really jumpy when he’s the only person in that room. He can’t block the door since we need to be able to come in and out, and it’s got him a bit on edge.”

Karkat nodded, unable to get any words out past the lump in his throat. He more or less just dropped his bag on the ground and pushed past, zooming around toward the room indicated. Dave looked half-asleep when Karkat pushed the door open, and waved as he sat up with some effort.

God, the photo Rose had taken didn’t do justice to how fucking bad he looked. There were bruises across his face and neck turned a weird greenish-gray but still dark against his skin, and bandages everywhere, his hair was a mess (although that might have just been from sleeping). He was in some oversized shirt with an Earth hoofbeast on the front that was probably Dirk’s judging by the size, and Karkat had no idea why Dave had it on but right now he didn’t care.

“Hey, man, uh. Shit’s been crazy, huh?” Dave said with an awkward grin. He didn’t have his shades on either, which made sense if he’d been sleeping, except they weren’t on the bedside table (which did instead contain a nearly empty glass of water, several bottles of pills and salves, and a first aid kit from which clean cloth bandages overflowed).

Two weeks of emotion boiled over all at once. Wordless, Karkat stomped across the room and grabbed Dave’s stupid fucking shirt in both hands and tugged him close.

“It was three days, Dave,” Karkat hissed.

“Wha—?”

“Three days! And you got yourself fucking kidnapped by a terrorist on day goddamn two!! What the fuck, Dave?!” His voice was threatening to abandon him, but Karkat forced it right back into place by sheer willpower. This tangent would not be fucking stopped, hell no. “I take my eyes off of you for two days, and you get yourself into shit again! What the fuck!!! Do you have any idea how-how fucking agonizing it’s been waiting for news?! And you’re just sitting there like ‘Oh, hey! What’s up?’ What’s up is my foot up your waste chute, you hopeless fucking—!” Okay, nope, his voice was leaving after all, actually. He felt tears roll down his face, and he should’ve been more worried about that, but Dave already knew about his blood color and he was the only troll in the house right now, so, fuck it, fuck it all! Helpless, he tugged Dave closer again, letting his face press against that stupid shirt, claws still twisted into the fabric as he sobbed.

“Holy shit,” Dave muttered.

“I was so fucking scared,” Karkat gasped. This was pathetic, they weren’t remotely a couple, Karkat had no right to be this worked up and he knew it, but…Dave wasn’t exactly pushing him away, either, was he?

“I’m sorry, man, I didn’t even…It wasn’t planned this time, it just sorta happened, and Dirk got hurt, and I…”

“I’m not actually angry at you, despite having so much right to be that legislacerators everywhere have preemptively declared me innocent. I’m just fucking screaming for the sake of it, dumbass.”

“Oh.”

The awkward pause that followed was filled with only the sound of Karkat’s weeping, which, fuck, he was probably too fucking embarrassed to tell him off. Except…Dave’s hand lifted up to rest gently against Karkat’s back, so, maybe he didn’t mind that much? Was that wishful thinking?

“Sorry for this,” he said, just in case, as he pulled away a bit. “It’s really fucking embarrassing, I know, I just…”

“It’s cool, man,” said Dave. Then, with a wink, he said, “I know you got your massive Strider homocrush, it’s only natural—”

“Dave, I swear to fuck, injured or not, I will pummel you into dust with a fucking pillow, don’t test me!” Karkat snapped.

Dave snorted. “Hey, man, it’s fine, everyone’s allowed to be a lil gay sometimes with their friends, it’s only natural.”

“I’ll ‘natural’ you!! Motherfucker, I spent the two weeks worrying about your wellbeing and you come at me with more of this bullshit!!”

Dave cackled with laughter. Karkat rolled his eyes and sniffled. He feigned annoyance as best he could, but, God, it was such a relief to hear Dave laugh. Rubbing a sweater sleeve furiously across his eyes, Karkat pulled back, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed. “Okay, but seriously, what’s with the shirt?” he asked, gesturing at the floating head of the hoofbeast. It wasn’t even a joke or a drawing. It was just…a straight photo of a hoofbeast’s face, with no text or explanation of any sort. What the fuck??

Dave glanced down, and snickered. “Oh, shit. Uh, yeah, we needed something that’s easy to get me in and out of, since the bandages on this fuckin’ burn need to be changed like, a lot, not to mention the gross-ass cream they have us slathering all over it on the regular. We tried a button down, but the buttons were kinda chafing, and like…who the fuck wants to ruin a fancy shirt with gross burn juices, right? And Dirk’s shit is more comfortable, and this one’s big enough that it’s real easy to take off even if I’m high on the damn painkillers.”

Karkat winced slightly, but decided not to comment. The scream from the video echoed somewhere in his think pan. “Where’re your shades?”

“Bro fuckin’ stepped on them or something, man, I dunno. They fell off at some point, and they were already cracked before all that, and Terezi just found pieces. Which fucking sucks, I mean God dammit, those were a gift from John. Shit sucks.”

“John?” Karkat tipped his head.

“Yeah, he’s like, an old friend of mine. Have I not mentioned him to you? Whatever, he, uh.” Dave scratched at the side of his head. “He was an online friend from before Bro started doing the, uh, raid shit, and I kept talking to him and another friend, Jade, for a while afterwards even though I wasn’t supposed to?”

“Jade’s name I remember,” Karkat said.

“Haha, yeah, yeah cuz I told you about…anyway.” He cleared his throat. “I guess since Dirk’s college is starting up again soon, not that he’s going for the first couple weeks with his leg and a fucking concussion, but, it’s starting up, and John’s sister goes there too, and he’s gonna come with so we’ll be able to hang out for a bit? Which is fuckin’ rad, I haven’t even talked to the guy in three years and we’re finally meeting in person.”

“You want him to be here? While you’re this badly injured?” Karkat yelped.

Dave blinked at him like he’d just grown a secondary head.

“I mean, yeah?” Dave said. “Like, yeah, I’m not in great shape and I guess it’ll be a lil weird for him to see me like this, but I’ve missed him.” Before Karkat could press the question further, though, Dave yawned. “Ugh, fuck, I wanna keep talking, but I’m…halfway to falling asleep, shit.”

“Oh,” said Karkat. He got up, ready to leave. He wanted to stay, wanted to curl himself around Dave’s obnoxiously lanky frame as best he could and protect this fragile idiot human from the entire universe, but…it wasn’t his place, was it? No.

“You leaving?” said Dave, rubbing at his unbruised eye.

“You said you wanna sleep,” Karkat said.

“Right. Uh. Could you, like…fill this back up for me, then, I guess?” Dave said.

“…Sure,” said Karkat.

He was…still confused, but Dave was tired, so he didn’t press. But he couldn’t wrap his head around wanting a friend around while he was so injured—well, he’d wanted Karkat around, hadn’t he? He’d seemed happy to see him, aside from the, uh, yelling. Still, it didn’t make sense! Every troll knew as a small child that the only people you could trust when you were injured were your lusus, your moirail, and maybe your matesprit! Anyone else might take advantage of the weakness and kill you, that was just basic logic! But Dave didn’t even seem to be thinking about it.

And…and yet, come to think of it, Roxy’d been awfully forthright about how bad Dave’s condition was. Hell, she’d heard it from Rose, who seemed like the one most likely to know not to spread that weakness, but the humans were all sharing it and passing it around. It wasn’t just that they didn’t seem to care who knew that Dave and Dirk were injured, it was like they wanted people to know.

And as he filled up the glass of water in the kitchen, he watched as Roxy and Dirk talked on the couch, as Dirk told her that he’d passed on the news of their condition to Jane already, that Rose had told her and Dave’s friends, and it just kept going. Everyone had to be up to date on the fact that both brothers were injured and vulnerable, and yet…

“I hope the flight wasn’t too long,” Rachel was saying to Ramona.

“Nothing would be too long right now,” she said in turn, blowing gently on a cup of tea that Rachel had just poured her. “Times like these, we all need to do our part. I know I might not be able to do much, mind you. My leg’s been acting up something fierce, as of late, but I’ll do whatever I can.”

Something clicked. All at once, the curtains pulled back and Karkat saw the whole picture—saw maybe not what it always was, and certainly not what the Lalondes achieved on any sort of regular basis, but what it was supposed to be, how it was meant to work.

On Alternia, everyone lived in constant competition. Trolls had to be strong as close to all the time as they possibly could, or at the very least find a moirail who could, because otherwise their society wouldn’t particularly care much if they died. That just meant they didn’t deserve to be a part of the gene pool or to contribute to society. If they were injured badly and left vulnerable, it was seen as normal for others to take advantage of that weakness and exert power or outright kill a rival. It was how they survived so long, or so the cultural narrative had so long stated: by this competition, the strongest survive. Nevermind that this survival was built on the corpses of uncountable trolls who didn’t make the cut, it Worked.

As a result, trolls had been bewildered just as Karkat had by how humans as a species managed to be so frail and yet so reckless and to still survive, especially when they didn’t exactly have the kind of numbers that trolls did. Humans lacked the numbers to be expendable, lacked the strength and toughness that kept Trolls alive, and yet they looked Death in the eye and pointed and laughed, and pushed themselves to extremes for no purpose other than to have some warped idea of fun. It was a question that had lingered around his consciousness for ages; how the fuck do humans even work as a species? How had such a seemingly doomed race not died off yet?

The answer that hit him now, as he watched Roxy help Dirk stand up and balance himself on a pair of crutches, was that humans didn’t have to be strong all the time, and that was the magic of their little social units, their families—they took care of each other. No one person had to be good at everything, or so good at one thing that it could keep them safe in any situation. It didn’t matter that their skin was thin or that they weren’t particularly strong or fast, they always, always had others around who would pick up the slack, others who would come even across oceans to offer what aid they could in times of strife; they weaved together all their strengths and weaknesses into a fabric able to withstand just about anything. Fuck, no wonder they’d wanted Dave back so badly. The Lalondes may have been less a tapestry and more a patchwork quilt, but it was still their quilt, and Dave was a part of it….

He felt a near-agonizing pang of envy that he didn’t have a quilt of his own. Humans might have been stupid about a lot of things, but this…this they’d gotten right.  

“Fucking water? Is that really the best you could think of? Fucking dumbass,” Dave muttered to himself. God. This was stupid. This was all really fucking stupid. He couldn’t even deal with being alone while he was asleep, for Chrissakes! Too scared of nightmares of a big mean dog, like some fuckin’ little kid.

Yeah, he was tired, but he really, really didn’t wanna be alone right now, was the thing. Not with that fucking troll-drug-induced nightmare lingering around the edges, waiting to chase him down again at its first chance. But. Like. Karkat was kind of right? Bros don’t watch each other sleep, that’s fuckin’ creepy. Like. Okay, so maybe they’d done a bit of that way back when Karkat had been kidnapped, but they didn’t have a choice back then, and anyways they mostly slept at the same time during that experience, which was super different from just asking his best alien friend to fuckin’ hold his hand so the  bad dreams wouldn’t get him. Fuck.

So he’d asked Karkat to refill his glass, even though he wasn’t thirsty right now, because it was an excuse to make Karkat come back, at least for a few more minutes, and they could talk for a bit, and maybe Dave’d stop being tired, wouldn’t that be rad.

Karkat came back in looking really thoughtful. He handed the glass over, and Dave took a sip to try and look like he hadn’t been 100% bullshitting there, and mumbled a thanks as he set it down. Then, just as a thought, he jerked his head toward the rest of the bed—it was a big king-sized one, probably left over from before the divorce and Mom had just never downsized or whatever, so there was a lot of space to Dave’s right—and told Karkat he could sit down if he wanted, Dave wasn’t gonna, like, pass out right this minute or anything, haha.

Karkat stayed quiet, which was fuckin’ weird, but he did sit down. He stared at the sheets for a minute, and then spoke up suddenly, saying, “I think I get it.”

“Get what?” said Dave.

“Why they wanted you back so bad,” said Karkat. “I mean, way back when you were first arrested. I kind of fought with Dirk over it at one point, because my only experience with the word Dirk used for why you should be with him was fucking Strider. And also I think I get why this shit all works, for humans in general. I mean, I’m probably just saying obvious shit, but it’s not how trolls work, we don’t take care of each other, not like this.”

Dave tipped his head.

“I mean with the whole fucking family thing,” Karkat said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve been trying to get it this whole time, but this shit’s used to justify so much bullshit with you humans, and I think I get it now, and why it’s so fucking important to you as a species.”

Dave snorted. “Dude, it’s not that big a thing—”

“It is, though! It just seems normal to humans because it’s how you always work, but, Dave, I’m serious, back on Alternia it’s every troll for themself. Maybe you  have one person who has your back if you’ve got a moirail, maybe some are lucky like me and have friends who are actually consistently on your side and won’t take the first chance they get to kill you or fuck you up some other way, but we definitely don’t have a whole cluster of others we can just fall back on any time we’re met with something we can’t handle alone.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Dave started, but Karkat just kept going. Apparently he’d had some sort of fuckin’ epiphany in the past two minutes.

“It took me so fucking long to get this, but I get it now! You know what I don’t get, though, is why the fuck you ever tried to convince me that Strider is part of your fucking family.”

Something in Dave dropped like a stone.

He’d…had a similar thought, really. Repeatedly. Multiple times, over the past week or so. He’d been kind of trying to avoid it, because every time it popped up, he got really stressed out.

“And don’t give me any of the bullshit about being ‘related’ or what the fuck ever, I don’t wanna hear it,” Karkat kept right on going. “I still don’t get why you humans care so much about that. The whole point of this family thing is that you all take care of each other, not that you’re related or whatever! Your aunt’s here, did you know that? She flew across an entire fucking ocean just to make sure she could help out you and Dirk! What the fuck did Strider ever do for you?”

It was a good question. And the answer, of course, was: aside from trying to  kill him, do you mean? Hahaha.

Karkat was still talking, but Dave wasn’t really hearing him. Fuck, this had been a mistake, he should’ve taken his chances with the fucking nightmare dog. That was better than this old song and dance with his own thoughts.

The facts were pretty simple. He’d operated under pretty clear logic when he went up against Bro: We’re family, so he loves me, so therefore if I ask him to let me leave and explain that I really can’t deal with this, he’ll let me go. Except, Bro had tried to kill him, which meant that…

That was as far as Dave ever got. He couldn’t think any farther than that.

He felt like…like the next thought should be obvious, but he couldn’t make himself think it. It was too big—not so much a square peg in a round hole as it was trying to cram a grain silo into a pinhole, and the thought threatened to overwhelm and destroy him, so instead of thinking it, his brain kept rejecting it, the effect being like a broken record skip-skip-skipping, over and over, repeating the last thought he could get to before the Big One, because he couldn’t not think the Big One, either…

It was so fucking stupid, it was just a thought, why couldn’t he…

“Hah, yeah, now that you mention it, I guess I was always kinda wrong about this shit, wasn’t I?” Dave said, unable to stop the sardonic laughter bubbling up in his throat. “I mean, fuck, no wonder it took you so long to get, I probably gave you the wrong idea. My dumb ass was convinced he’d never try to kill me, cuz we’re family, and, well, here we fuckin’ are!”

Skip, skip, skip—

Karkat was still talking in stuttered phrases in the gaps of Dave’s own flood of words, looking almost scared, but Dave didn’t comprehned any of them, and anyway, the ranting had started, there was no stopping this shit now. “Like, what the fuck was I even thinking, right? I really thought that was gonna work, that somehow he’d just let me go if I asked, like a fucking idiot! Haha, what a fuckin’ dipshit, right?! And here I was thinking he—” Frantic laughter bubbled up, overtaking the words, not that more would’ve come, that next thought was just too big. Was he crying? Fuck, Karkat didn’t need to see any of this shit, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t think

Skip, skip, skip, skip, skipskipskipskipskipskip—

It wasn’t Karkat’s fault. It really wasn’t. He might’ve set it off, but the storm had been building up for days, now, and it broke hard, sweeping Dave up in a torrent of just wordless mental screaming. He couldn’t think the next thought. He couldn’t. But the thing was damming him up, and he couldn’t ignore it anymore, and he was stuck in the middle and left to just completely melt down and dissipate into the flood.

A sound like a cicada crossed with the creakiest horror movie door ever to creak ripped through the tides, and suddenly Dave found himself tugged into a full body hug, wrapped up in four limbs with his face pressed into a thick sweater. The touch dragged him out of the flood and onto dry land, brought him back into now before he even knew what was happening. Karkat’s whole chest was vibrating with some intense cricket-cat hybrid purr, and this should’ve been so embarrassing but he was so tired and so lost and it was fucking comforting, so who the fuck cared. Who cared anymore. It was all bullshit. He could be embarrassed later.

Too soon, Karkat seemed to have the same thought, and tried to pull away. “Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t—fuck, I’m so sorry, this is really presumptive and I know you aren’t even into boys,” he babbled.

Dave groaned, wrapping his arms around Karkat’s chest and pulling him close. “Dude, if you try to make this about alien romance right now, I swear to fuck,” he gasped out between harsh sobs. Christ, he was going harder than Karkat did like twenty minutes earlier, what the fuck.

Karkat paused. Good. It meant his warm arms were still there. “Dave, I…I mean, this is troll romance, this is textbook moiraillegience, and I shouldn’t just be throwing myself at you because you had a moment of weakness, no matter how bad I, uh.”

Dave sniffled, wracked his brain for a moment…Karkat had explained this stuff about a million times, which one was…”That’s like…the bros quadrant, right?”

“The what.”

“The one that’s, like, platonic and shit.”

“…Yeah?” The cricket-purr started up again, cautiously.

“We fuckin’ kinda do most of that shit already, don’t we?” Like. Yeah. He wasn’t gay. That was still a thing. But Karkat was warm and solid and real and Dave was fucking exhausted and didn’t want to be alone, especially not when he felt right now like he was wrapped in safety. “Please, Karkat,” he added, because why not beg. He was already at maximum pathetic, there was no digging this hole lower, fuck it. “I really don’t wanna be alone right now, just, please don’t go.”

Karkat was quiet for a long moment, but finally, the cricket-purr went back to full volume and Karkat’s arms tightened around him.

“Okay,” Karkat said quietly. Dave let out a breath he’d barely known he’d been holding and went back to crying.

“We’re going to have to talk about this later,” Karkat murmured, which put him at about normal volume for anyone else.

“Later, then,” said Dave, and let himself finally fall the fuck asleep.

[ecotone99]

[FN] The last battle of the dwarves (The first of a series of short stories from the same setting, that im working on.)

Bang. Bang. The sound of metal colliding with metal was the only thing that ripped through the silence. It was the noise of the iron fists of a dark giant, that kept impacting the heavy main gate of Irik’han. The dwarven fortress had been under siege for days, pushed back beyond their heavy walls. The situation was dire. Few warriors were left and outside the walls was a whole army of darklings, waiting to tear apart the last resort the dwarves still had.

“The gate can´t stand it forever, Dawrim.”, spoke Thumgar, the dwarves primus pilus. Dawrim, dwarven emperor by Paffnuzius will, nodded. “Yes. They´ll break through eventually. This might be the last day of the dwarves. But in Paffnuzius name, we will make it an end to remember.” The centurion nodded and sighed. “I just hope the men will show the same attitude. The first centuria will go down fighting, but there are many young dwarves among the others, inexperienced and scared.” “They will fight Thumgar. They are dwarves, after all.” After Dawrim spoke those words, silence settled again between the two. Many dwarves eyes still stared at the gate, expecting it to burst any second. It wasnt brittle yet, would surely take at least one more hour. Still, time was becoming immesurable in the current situation.

The primus pilus and the emperor were not close to the gate. They were above it. In a lookout made of a stone that was see through from one way, while seeming solid from the other. Dawrim´s eyes roamed the scene, looking at the thousands of darklings, at the hills in the distance and the setting sun, coating everything into it´s red light. The clouds on the sky were dark, rain was coming, it would start soon.

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The darklings outside stared at the barren stone of the walls. A collosal wall, only interrupted by the large metal gate. In front of it, their dark giant. A huge humanoid creature, three and a half men tall. It´s bald, round head had no nose, just slits for eyes and a large mouth, two tusks poking out of it. The giant had the grey skin, that all darklings sported. It was very similar to them in general, only lacking the large, pointy ears and nostrils. However, its big hands were covered in metal, creating dangerous weapons, devestating whatever they were swung at.

The other darklings were of various kinds. There were darkling swarmers, about half as tall as man and usually not armored. Armed with dirks, daggers or short swords, they were not skilled fighters, but their ruthlessness, disregard for their own life and amount were what made them dangerous. Their grey, rag-covered statures were thin, only skin and bones.

Fewer, yet still quite the amount, were the darkling brawlers. They were mansized hunks of muscle, flesh and aggression. They were usually found wearing cuirass and greaves in the red of the darklings standards. Their fearsome faces are covered by a sallet of the same color, on which higher rank brawlers have a visor. They use large cleaving swords, oftenly wavy or spikey in their form. They are crude weapons, less meant for cutting than for hacking. The wounds they reap are oftenly deadly, if not directly, then through the incredibly cruel injuries their shape leaves.

Then, there were the darkling crushers. They are fewer, a hundreth of the amount brawlers. Larger than those, these creatures could stand up to two men tall. Covered in complete armor with a frogmouth helmet, they are fearsome beings. Weilding hammers and axes that men could barely lift and wreaking havoc to those that they meet.

Lastly, the darkling beasts. They are monsters on all fours. They could be compared to boars, their skin grey, their tusks large. They have muscular bodies, their skin is thick. The beasts usually are not armored and sport a mohawk of hair on their heads, running down their back to the tail. They are the hardest to kill and can devesate whole rows of soldiers, relentlessly charging through. Their number is few in every darkling army, as they are rare in the darklings home and hard to tame.

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Bang. Bang. Again and agian, the dark giants fists slammed against the door. It would not last much longer. The time was running thin and those within the walls knew well. The women and children were hidden in the caverns, while every last man that could fight was armored and armed, waiting for the inevitable. The expression differed. Some grim, some scared. Some had made their peace with it, some were eager to make history happen. But in none of their eyes was the hope of victory. It would be but the desperate fight of a cornered animal, lashing out at its hunters.

Dawrim looked down, at the couple of hundred men gathered and with a grim expression, he stomped on the ground, disrupting the nigh silence that had reigned. “Sons of Paffnuzius! I must not sugarcoat our situation. Out there stands an army, tenfold our strength. We are trapped, cornered in the walls we sought to protect us. This is the last battle we will ever fight.” His voice boomed through the halls, the dwarves looking at him with the same expressions that had previously watched the doors. “But by Paffnuzius, we will not go down easily. We are dwarves! Our ancestors watch us with tention, they expect us to match their glory! If this is dwarfkinds end, we will make it one to be remembered! Even in centuries, all over the world, they will remember our names, whisper them in awe as they tell the tale of this great battle! Of our unbending resistance!” The emperor was halfway through his speech, the expressions changing more and more to ones of determination. Some started to shout in agreement at his statements. But then, he was interupted by a peculiar sound. One that did not fit the scenery whatsoever. It sounded like the howl of the wolf. First one, then another and another. “Impossible…”, Dawrim muttered and rushed towards the lookout, his eyes bolting towards the hills.

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On the hill, first, a single creature was seen. It was a horse and a rider on it, clad in black armor. A spear in hand, a shield in the other, the person raised their weapon and shouted. “Ithilest, advance!”, a voice boomed over the plains. Shortly after, the stomping of feet could be heard. On the hills, first on, then two, lastly three more silhouettes appeared, each holding a horn, the ends shaped like a wolfs head. Once more, the howl of wolves was heard, now becoming clear it was the horns that produced them.

Almost perfectly timed, the clouds burst. Rain started pouring in masses, thunder booming as lightning struck the sky. And then, they came. Black armored knights in platoons started to cross the hills and gather atop, carrying a wolf banner with them. It was hundreds in sight and who knew how many behind the hills still. They came to a halt with still distance to the darklings siege and army, gathering, grouping, waiting.

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Movement came to the darklings rows. Their commander, a crusher wearing no helmet, his skin having a yellowish hue to it, waved. His voice was loud enough to be heard by all the darklings, even the dwarves in their fortress could understand what he said.

“Split up! Keep this filth of the giant and get rid of the shortlings once the gate falls. Dont let them break your rows or i´ll feed you to the beasts!”

With a shift, quickly defense rows were build, using whatever polearms were aviavble to make a rushing attackers life hell. The darklings didnt advance, it was in their best interest to stall the battle. It was clear, their main objective was to breach the dwarven fortress, no matter the cost.

The knights still stood, until the dark rider raised their spear once more. “For glory and death!”, the voice boomed once more, lightning striking the sky at the same time. And the knights repeated the shout, starting their pace foward, steadily advancing, their rows flawless and closed. The stomping of their heavily armored feet on the ground was almost drowing out the sound of the dark giant hitting the damaged gate.

The wolven commander spoke again, shouting but the word “Ithlain!” But the order was clear. From behind the hills, less armored men started to swarm forward. Their front row carrying what looked like metal plates. Quickly, they were placed onto the ground and a mechanism in them was activated, making them stand by themselves as metal shield wall. Behind it, archers started to gather, protected against counterfire from the lower positioned enemies. The knights advance continued through all of this, slowly but surely making their way towards the darklings defense.

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“Why would the Ithilien wolves help us Dawrim?”, Thumgar asked, concern clear in his voice. “They aren´t exactly known for their generosity…” The primus pilus watched his friend and emperor pace up and down the lookout. “I dont know Thumgar, i really dont. It won´t be out of kind spirit, surely, they must have an ulterior motive. But as long as it means our kind lives to see another day, it´s an improvement.”

Quickly, the dwarf made it back to his men. “If the gate falls, hold your lines! Do not let them pass you, they cannot reach the women and children under any circumstances! Stall them for as long as you can, become the heroes our ancestors want us to be!” The emperor had hope in his voice, mixed with the usual determination. THat sparked the flame of hope in his men, as chanting started to rise in their rows. Old, dwarven battle songs, speaking of death, honor and history.

Dawrim however quickly returned to the lookout. He had to see how the fight went. He wanted to see the wolves fight. It wasnt often, that one could watch the Ithilest fight without paying with their own life.

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As the knights slow approach was soon to meet the lines of the darklings, the archers were set up, starting to pull back their strings and aiming for the mass of foes. However, the commander stopped them quickly, shouting out “Aim for the giant! Bring it down!” Quickly, the angle was adjusted, aiming for the faraway gate of the fortress and the beast that bashed it in.

Once more, the dark sky was lit up with thunder, as the knights started to charge the last part of their way. Armed with swords and shields, they soon crashed into the line of darklings and the battle ensued.

The archers shot the first wave of arrows, many hitting their target, as the giant grumbled in pain. Still, he did not slow down, kept beating the gate, over and over as the archers drew their next arrows.

The rows of the darkling swarmers were quickly broken, their umarmored, small frames unable to withstand the powerful charge of the knights. Their advance however soon slowed, as they met the second row, brawlers standing there, ready to fight off their enemies. The sound of battle, weapons hitting armor and shields, screams of pain and death, warcries, soon filled the area.

When the second volley of arrows hit the giant, he groaned once more, his pace slowing, but not stopping. But it became apparent that another volley would do the trick and most likely end this creature for good.

The battle stalled out, the knights and brawlers seemingly at level. On both sides, lives were taken and lost equally, no side able to push further than the other pushed back. It stayed like that, the sides hacking and slashing at each other, killing as many as they could to gain the lead.

The sound of bows going off filled the air a third time, a sharp howl heard from the giant. It stumbled, landing one last punch, before collapsing against the gate… And with that gave it the final blow. Both, monster and gate fell broken. Silence overcame the battlefield, as every party involved stared at the gate for a moment, the sudden shift in events stunning them all.

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The dwarves inside the fortress of course saw none of what was happening outside, except for those few entrusted ones that stood on the lookout with the emperor. For a moment, when the giant struggled, Dawrim had hope. If the beast fell without breaching the gate, the dwarves were safe. No matter the damage, the darklings had no means to get past that heavy iron. This hope was seen by a spark in his eyes and a sharp breath taken beneath the well maintained blonde beard, when the dark giant was in his death struggles. But it soon faded, as the gate fell with its assaulter. The noises was indescribably loud as the huge mass of metal and flesh crashed onto the door. Luckily, the dwarves stood far enough off not to be crushed, expecting the gate to collapse in such a way from the attacks earlier.

The emperor and his primus pilus rushed towards the balcony that led to the lower areas, so that they could see their men, stunned, uncertain how to react. “Fend them off! Do not let them pass!”, Paffnuzius chosen bellowed, followed by a simple warcry. “Death!” The dwarves repeated after him, bracing for the soon approaching force of the darklings.

The first line of defense would be the first centuria, which exceeded at defending choke points, much to the dwarves luck. The first row were shieldbearers, holding large, scutum-like shields and spears. They formed a wall, their stand steady and strong.

They didn´t have to wait for long, as soon, swarmers burst through the open gate and did what their name suggested. They swarmed in, meeting a defensive line. They pushed against them, trying their hardest to penetrate the strong dwarven row. From behind, more swarmers came by the second, each wave pressing the last against the shields stronger. Dwarven spears found their victims again and again, but what broke the swarmers neck more than that were their own kind crushing them between shield and the next wave. Still, with the rising amount of force onto the shields, the dwarves would not be able to hold long, getting pushed back slightly already.

That was, when the second row of the centuria sprung into action. With powerful leaps, lightly armored dwarves jumped oiver of their shieldwall, weilding two axes each. They landed within the mass of swarmers, crushing those that had taken the spot they now did. Quickly, they started to massacre through the helpless darklings.

The tide of swarmers soon thinned out, but the metallic stomping of armored feet on stone was heard as brawlers appeared. And tall from within their lines stood two crushers, weilding heavy hammers. The axe-swinging dwarves quickly fought their way back behind allied lines, as it was a lot harder to kill these foes.

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Outside the fortress, the battle soon picked up again, going back to its stall. It did however not keep up for long. Ferocious howling was added as a new sound to the scenery and before long, suddenly, knights were seen flying through the air, tossed aside with great force. “Beasts!”, was the shouting between the knights. Two darkling beasts had torn up their rows, now turning around for another charge.

On the hill, once more the wolf horns were heard. “Ithilguen!”, the voice of the black knight commander bellowed, before noise like thunder echoed from behind the hills. The commanders knights reared once, before it started to gallop. Then, shortly behind their leader, horses showed up. countless of them passed the hill, bolting towards the enemies lines and their messed up allies.

The commander however soon split, heading directly for one of the beasts. While the archers on the hill aimed for the second, the horses dashed forward, directly towards the brawlers and swarmers fighting the knights. Spears were readied, the impact would tear apart anybody that had the misfortune of getting in the way. The knights loosened their formation and the horses skillfully, yet without losing speed maneuvered through, not hitting a single ally in their way. It was a well practiced, well executed maneuver. When the riders hit the enemy, it was the darklings turn to be sent flying from the sheer force. A large tear was made into the darklings rows, but once the horses stood, the crushers from further behind started to partake in the battle. Once more, it seemed to stall.

While the archers were struggling to take down the beast, beside hitting, the commander still rode towards the second, heading directy for it. With a loud shout, the dark rider gained the creatures attention. With a snort, it adjusted its path, heading directly for the rider that approached it. The commander however kept galloping towards it, reading their spear. Shortly before they hit it, they arched backwards and threw it, the speeding projectile cutting through the air and finding its way into the beasts head. It fell over dead, but with the momentum still going, it rolled and slid over the floor. The horse was too fast to adjust and tripped over the corse, crashing forward, its rider falling off and onto the floor with a powerful impact. For a moment, there was no movement, before the rider arose shakily. Slowly staggering over to the horse, it was found to be dead, the neck broken through the fall. The rider took off the dark helmet and revealed their face to the cold rain. Beneath was a woman with golden hair and ivory skin. The lips red, partly from blood, as one of it had burst open from the fall. Her rest was not for long, however. “Manling! Your life ends here! Without you, your men will falter!” The leader of the darklings, the yellowskinned crusher, was standing ahead, the axe on his shoulder. The commander got into a defensive stance with her shield and drew a golden and black sword. As the only reply, she spit out some blood and started to slowly approach her foe.

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So far, the dwarves had been able to hold off their enemy quite well. While they had lost ground and men, the enemy force had suffered far greater loss and the ground gained by them was just nearly enough to almost cross the entryway of the fortress. It was a slow, draining battle and the fate seemed to turn on the bearded warriors more and more. They were growing tired, were thinning out.

To seal their fate, the two crushers that had entered, but not yet partaken in the fight, were now approaching the line of the dwarves. That did not go unnoticed by the ones that had watched from above. “Thumgar! The crushers!”, Dawrim exclaimed towards his friend, who nodded. “I see them. They´ll tear through the men like an Aknarian Clawmouth through lifestock.”, the primus pilus replied. “It´s time, old friend. Today, we go down in history. One way or another.” The emperor was calm, collected. It calmed Thumgar. That was just how Dawrim had always been. And they had yet a battle to lose. If it was this one, so be it. “I´ll take one, you take the other. We can´t let them through to our men.”, the centurion stated. Thumgar drew his weapon, an ornate sword, that spotted an axe´s head on the tip of its edge. It was a large weapon, weilded with two hands by the strong dwarf. A deadly tool in the right hands. And Thumgar´s hands sure were the right ones. Then, he looked at the emperor. Dawrim too had his weapon ready, a large warhammer. With a nod, both took a few steps back. “To death.”, Thumgar said. “To history.”, his friend replied. THen, they ran towards the edge of the balcony and lept. Dawrim landed close to his target, quickly swinging his hammer around him to clear an area for himself. Then, he shouted at the crusher. “Hey, mudbrain! Come and face me, if you dare! Or is there no guts beneath that metal?” The crusher slowly turned, roaring. “This one´s mine.” A claim the other darklings knew better than to interfere with.

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The darkling slowly approached her, his axe now at the ready. The opponents slowly circled each other, before with a loud yell, the axe was swung, a powerful, vertical strike that would tear through armor and shield alike. Quickly, the commander used her shield not to block, but to push aside the arms of the darkling, making his strike whiff. With the other hand, she struck at the darklings face, delivering a punch to his face with her armored gauntlet. The darkling stumbled back and roared. Of course, that was nothing that would impair the vicious creature.

Another quick swing, horizontally this time was soon cutting the air on the way towards the commander. She stepped back as quickly as she could with her armor, being in time to avoid the strike and slashing her sword at her opponent, delivering a cut to his left forearm. Another roar was heard, as he spun quickly and brought the flat side of his axe against her body. Unable to dodge or react quickly enough, she was struck and thrown through the air, landing on the floor a little further away.

She did not get up immediatly. Everything was spinning, she was visibly dazed and the prior fall from the horse in addition to this impact had left their marks. Coughing up blood, she slowly rose, getting back into her stance to fight her opponent again.

The darkling laughed. “I´ll enjoy taking every last bit of life from you. First you, then your men.” He once more swung his axe, the dizzy commander sloppily raising her shield. But the force was too big, the large weapon cleaved into the shield, into her arm, making her wince in pain, before bringing her shoulder forward and bashing the darkling away. The shield was rendered useless now and so was her arm, at least for the time being. With a grunt, she tossed she shield away, now left with only her blade in her hand.

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With a loud, booming noise, the crushers hammer hit the floor. Dawrim had been able to dodge that strike, despite his thickset body he was surprisingly mobile, even with the blue and golden, ornamented armor of the emperor. In return, Paffnuzius chosen swung his own heavy weapon to meet the crushers side, leaving a serious dent in the large darklings armor.

The monster of a darkling drew back its weapon and prepared to swing another time. In a long, horizontal attack, Dawrim was unable to go below or behind to avoid the attack. The swing hit quite a lot of darklings as well, cleaving a devestating line into their rows. The dwarven emperor thought quickly, pushing his hammer to the ground and propelling himself into the air high, flying over the crushers head, not without taking the momentum of the flight to deliver a serious blow to the helmet, leaving it dented as well.

Landing behind the crusher, Dawrim quickly spun on the spot, quickly striking at the armored brutes knee from behind. It was forced to bent in, getting on its knees. Another swing to the crushers head finished the foe, as the armored corpse fell forward lifelessly, once more crushing a bunch of its own kin.

With haste, Dawrim looked for his friend, having no trouble spotting the second crusher. The darkling stood twice as tall as the others and was therefore easily found. And not a second to late. Dawrim was just in time to see the crusher swing his hammer, sending a bunch of darklings flying. And, besides them, Thumgar, who had been hit by the swing. Sent off, the dwarf hit a wall, where then, his body collapsed to the floor movelessly. “NO!”, Dawrim shouted, disbelief and shock clear in his voice. The crusher then turned, laughing in a deep, dark tone, before approaching the emperor himself.

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Another powerful swing was taken at the commander. She was about to react to it, when the yellowskinned darkling suddenly stopped it, taking the momentum to instead use his weapons shaft to find her face. She had been too dazed to realize his feint. The forceful impact, once more to her head, send her to the floor, rolling for a moment, before laying on her back. She tried to get up, but failed. Her conciousness started to slip, as her eyes slowly started to close.

“Mivareth…” A familiar voice seemed to call her. “Come, come with us. We´ll be together again…” She recognized where she was. It was the home of her childhood. The voice belonged to her mother, who stood there in her old, young beauty, extending a hand towards her daughter and seeming expecting, encouraging. “It´ll be like when you were young. Come, come with me…” The offer was tempting. Already about to grab her mothers hand, she remembered what had been happening. Where she actually was. And what it was her mother was offering. Death.

“No!”, she shouted as her eyes flew open. Just in time to see the darkling raise his axe right above her head, about to take it off her shoulders. MIvareth rolled to the side, avoiding the axe that got stuck in the ground through the sheer force of the swing. Getting to her feet shakily, she made sure she still had her sword. Then, she laid her eyes on her foe once more, who had managed to rip free his weapon. “You are getting on my nerves. Die already.”, the darkling spat out.

Charging at her, he swung his axe in a devastating attack, coming from the side. However, the knight had recollected herself a little and was not dazed enough to just take the hit anymore. Ducking low while dashing forward, she managed to dodge, while initiating a twirl. Seemingly spinning around him, she ended up behind her opponent, as he stumbled. Then, as he fell, his head fell off his shoulders, the decapitated corpse and its lost part falling to different sides.

Mivareth was panting, her otherwise flawless skin had a laceration near her lip and she didnt even know nor want to think about what less obvious injuries she had suffered. She was still dizzy and throughly exhausted. Still, she remembered she was in battle, even if the enemy commander had fallen. Therefore, she took a look around.

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The crusher raised his hammer, still bathing in the victory over Thumgar. Dawrim was still in shock, struggling to grasp what had happened. But he had little time to grief, as the huge opponent was looking to kill another dwarf.

Focussing on the task at hand, Dawrim couldnt exactly hold back the rage that was starting to fill him. Readying his hammer himself, he started to approach the crusher, breaking into a sprint. When the crusher raised his hammer to bring the weapon down straight on the dwarf, he kept running, closing the distance and getting between the crushers legs before the hammer would strike him. With the momentum still on his side, Dawrim started to spin, his hammer swinging around as he hit the legs of the armored darkling over and over,demolishing the armor and the flesh below. The darkling as a result broke to his knees before the emperor. With a vertical strike to the head, the angered dwarf removed any trace of a head that had ever been atop the armor, crushing it violently.

When the darklings noticed their strongest allies having fallen, they were struck with fear. First few, then more and more started to run, leaving the fortress, trampeling those of them that fell behind to death. Dawrim was however not done with them. “Don´t let them escape! Charge!”, he shouted. His men were gripped with the same angry dedication, yelling “Death!”, before starting to charge out of the fortress, after the darklings.

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Mivareth´s eyes were struggling to focus, she had taken quite the hits to the head. Still, she was able to make out that the sun was rising and the storm had stopped. The darklings were being pushed back by her knights, the second beast had fallen.

Suddenly, from the other side of the area, she heard voices, shouting and noises of combat. Turning her head, she saw dwarves spilling out of the broken fortress gate. They were chasing darklings and slaughtering right through their lines. The darklings were fleeing, but the dwarves easily kept up with them.

Due to that, the darklings were now stuck between two forces they had already been losing to. And without a commander to guide them, they had nothing to oppose the foe. They were just cut down like trees. In despair they tried to fight, but it was futile. It wouldn´t take long for the last of them to be slain.

Content with what she was seeing, Mivareth did not engage in further battle. She sat down at the corpse of her horse, resting against it, stroking through its hair. Like that, she would wait for the fight to end. And hopefully regather some strength.

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Dawrim had not followed his men outside the fortress. Instead, he had rushed over to the body of Thumgar, laying by the wall. Driven by hope, he grabbed his friend, gently shaking him. “Thumgar. Thumgar wake up, we´re winning.”, he whispered. “Thumgar!” The lack of reaction drove tears to the emperors eyes. “You can´t do that! We´ve always been together, had each others back! Remember, when we were little? When we practiced to fight? When you taught me how to control the momentum?” The tears were running down his face by now, but Dawrim wasn´t ashamed. He could not have cared less, as the grief he felt for his lifelong friend was more than overwhelming.

“You´re a hero Thumgar. You always were. And i promise, nobody will forget your name. It will be said with the greatest awe and respect, as the people tell the stories about you…” With that, he stood up. On the floor, he saw Thumgar´s weapon, the axeblade. taking it, he placed it into his friends hand, then resting both of the dead dwarves hands on his chest.

When that had been done, Dawrim turned around. He would have a funeral for his friend, of course, but now wasn´t the time. As much as he was a friend, he was also the emperor, who had to care for the aftermath of this battle. Therefore, he wiped away his tears and slowly started to walk outside.

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