Chapter Text
"The first responsibility of a leader is to define reality."
—Mileja Tsyrus, merchantagonist (later executed), from Leadership is an Art
Karkat calls a meeting. A leader, Dave figures, suddenly deprived of a cause for the first time in a long time, will fabricate any reason to maintain some sort of power over the social order, and powerless as he is to try to control the circumstances, he does the only other thing he can do, which is run roughshod over the delicate construct of "human feelings" to express his relief over this turn of events, like he'd be ashamed to admit he ever rubbed elbows with a lesser race. Dave thinks he's going to be sick.
CURRENT carcinoGeneticist [CCG] RIGHT NOW opened memo on board REJOICE, HEATHENS, FOR YOUR LORD HAS SEEN FIT TO GRANT YOU WITH A BOON VALUED BEYOND ALL KNOWABLE CELESTIAL CURRENCIES.
CCG: THAT'S RIGHT.
CCG: IT'S ABOUT TIME SOMEONE AROUND HERE ORGANIZED A PROPER WELCOMING-PARTY-SLASH-SHUT-UP-AND-SWALLOW-SOME-SCHOOLFEED SESSION, NOW THAT IT'S BEEN CLEARLY ESTABLISHED THAT THE FOUR OF YOU WITH WHOM WE WERE UNFORTUNATELY SADDLED HAVE BEEN ELEVATED IN THE EYES OF THE UNIVERSE FROM JUST BELOW POND SCUM TO SOMETHING APPROACHING TOLERABLE.
CCG: SO IF YOU ALL ARE DONE WITH YOUR TEARFUL REUNIONS AND YOUR INANE WEBCAM CONVERSATIONS AND YOUR LAUGHABLY JUVENILE AND PROBABLY PERSONALLY OFFENSIVE BODILY EXPLORATIONS, WE CAN PROPERLY GET DOWN TO BUSINESS AND I CAN TELL YOU ABOUT THE INNUMERABLE FUCKUPS YOU'RE BOUND TO HAVE ALREADY COMMITTED.
CCG: DO WE HAVE ANY BRAVE VOLUNTEERS TO SUBMIT TO THE CLEANSING FLAME OF RE-EDUCATION?
CURRENT grandioseTropaean [CGT] responded to memo.
CGT: oooohh my god, karkat. do you *ever* stop talking?
CCG: HAVE YOU HIT YOUR HEAD AND SOMEHOW FORGOTTEN WHO I AM?
CGT: no! but i still think you are probably making a mountain out of a mole hill here.
CGT: we're kids! that didn't suddenly change just because we had a spooky alien transformation.
CCG: LET'S PRETEND FOR A MOMENT YOU DIDN'T JUST COMPARE YOURSELF TO IMMATURE BLEATBEAST LARVAE, AND MOVE ON TO THE MORE IMPORTANT PART OF THE MESSAGE, WHICH I WAS GOING TO GET TO BEFORE YOU RUDELY INTERRUPTED THE *BEST PART* OF MY INTRODUCTORY FANFARE.
CGT: you asked a question!
CCG: IT WAS A RHETORICAL QUESTION, ONE DESIGNED TO CONVEY THE SHEER INSIGNIFICANCE OF YOUR EX-RACE ON A COSMIC SCALE.
CCG: BUT FINE, QUESTION ASKED, YOU ANSWERED, WE'VE GOTTEN IT OUT OF THE WAY NOW. NOW WE CAN ACTUALLY GET YOU STARTED.
CCG: SO, CONGRATULATIONS! YOU'VE BASICALLY WON THE GENETIC LOTTERY. SOMEHOW YOU STUMBLED ASS-BACKWARDS FROM THE BARGAIN BASEMENT OF SENTIENCE INTO A ONE-WAY TICKET TO BECOMING A SUPERIOR LIFEFORM. THIS IS A CAUSE FOR CELEBRATION, IN CASE YOUR THOUSANDFOLD INCREASE IN GREY MATTER HAS NOT YET BEEN ABLE TO PROCESS ITS ATTACHMENT TO THE UNFORTUNATE RELIC OF THE REMAINS OF YOUR HUMAN THINK PAN.
CCG: FROM HERE ON OUT, YOU CAN LOOK FORWARD TO A LIFE OF EXCITEMENT, ACTION, AND AN INNER LIFE OF THE MIND APPROXIMATELY THIRTEEN BILLION TIMES MORE INTERESTING THAN YOUR PREVIOUS HUMDRUM EXISTENCE.
CURRENT arachnidsGrip [CAG] responded to memo.
CAG: This is shaping up to be a 8anner day for you already, Karkat! I'm going to go pop some gru8corn for this.
CCG: NORMALLY I'D PRETTY MUCH BAN YOU ON THE SPOT FOR SOMETHING LIKE THAT, BUT ACTUALLY THE PROSPECT OF A BUNCH OF SAD SACK FORMER ALIENS TRYING IN VAIN TO COMPREHEND THEIR LIVES AS THEY ARE NOW IS ACTUALLY PRETTY AMUSING TO ME TOO.
CCG: GO FORTH AND POP YOUR GRUBCORN.
CCG: ...WAIT, NO
CCG: DID I JUST EXPRESS SOME KIND OF KINSHIP WITH YOU, VRISKA? DID WE JUST SHARE A "MOMENT"?
CCG: FUCK THIS, NEVER MIND, THIS HAS GONE TOO FAR ALREADY.
CCG banned CAG from responding to memo.
CCG: SO AS I WAS SAYING.
CURRENT telesticGuise [CTG] responded to memo.
CTG: i think im going to start a betting pool slash montage video for shit karkat says hit me up if you want in but do it quick hes pretty quick on the keyboard
CTG: (oh shit the big mans typing what is he going to level with us about now)
CTG: (get in the pool quick hes an odds on favourite to say fuck at least three times)
CGT: i'm not going to bet against that.
CCG: DUDE, NOT COOL. I CAME IN HERE WILLING TO SHARE THE BOUNTY OF TROLLKIND, AND YOU HELD MY MAGNANIMITY UP IN FRONT OF MY FACE AND SET IT ON FIRE.
CCG: IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOUR HATCHING CAME AS ONE OF THE MANY COSMICALLY INSIGNIFICANT SPECIES OF THE UNIVERSE, BUT IF YOU'RE GOING TO ACT LIKE AN OVERGROWN CHILD ABOUT THIS, THEN I DON'T SEE HOW THIS IS GOING TO WORK OUT.
CTG: why you gotta hurt me like this man
CTG: youve embarrassed me in front of all of my friends
CTG: i mean im already going to have to sit out on the street penniless since i bet the last few shreds of my life savings that you were going to cuss me out and you couldnt even deliver on that
CTG: but now im going to have to busk in troll subway stations and make a living off of playing ludicrous accordion compositions for sixteen hours a day thats no way to live
CTG: brb im gonna go get casting calls for troll orphan annie
He jokes to protect himself for how he feels every time he thinks about it too hard. Which is why, Dave supposes, he takes every opportunity he gets not to think about it too hard, instead devoting himself to other pursuits, like mixing with the old-school vinyl that he's pretty sure is made out of some kind of insect. The irony isn't lost on him that in his endeavours into new musical territory involve a great deal of scratching—in fact, that's all it feels like he does sometimes, is rewind, again and again.
It is difficult for Dave, master of time—if but for a brief stint within the confines of a game—that he was, to return to a world where time operates in a linear fashion. In fact, that, if anything, is what unsettles him the most, more than the unwieldy horns on top of his head, or the suspiciously pasty mystery meat and unnerving oil-slick coffee lining his refrigerator, or the fact that an enormous crow whose personality is a dead ringer for his older brother's is supposed to be his guardian. A week into this brave new world he's been thrust into without much choice in the matter, he's finding it's the little things that are getting to him the most. He's five minutes late and the convenience store is already closed. He stays out too late, until the sun's first rays threaten to peek over the horizon, and gets a nasty, peeling sunburn. He spends hours debating whether to brave actually getting into the recuperacoon and then realizes he's run out of time to actually sleep.
Time won't rewind for him again, not anymore. It grates on him, snags on him at every opportunity. The instinct was ingrained in him so deeply when he still held dominion over the aspect that he's constantly reminded of it by what he can't do. His perfect timekeeping lapses without that steady rhythm reinforcing every beat within his mind: hours feel like minutes, seconds feel like days, and his first week on Alternia is the fastest eternity he's ever lived through.
For a few minutes at a time, though, when Dave is simply trying to relax, trying not to think about the oppressively obvious, he can almost feel like he's back home, in his cramped Houston apartment. Outside his hivesuite, the sounds of the city continue well into the scorching morning, and he cannot help but think of the hot summer nights in Houston, when he would open the window to the apartment, sit with his brother, and just behold humanity.
But his brother isn't there anymore, replaced with, as he learns in rather alarming fashion, a giant white crow that swoops down from the skies and returns to its nest on the highest point of the hivestem. It seems to like him, at the very least, and has a sense of strangely fraternal loyalty. And like his brother, it spars with him, assuming a martial position at one end of the roof and issuing taunting cries until Dave draws his sword. And that's something he can hold onto, even if Dirk can't be there to stand beside him.
That's when the permanence of his involuntary Alternian vacation begins to set in, once he's endured a few dozen unsolicited messages from Karkat about how relieved he is that he won't have to put up with the humans' "crapsack ex-culture" anymore, followed by a few more expressing his thankfulness that he won't have to be mortally embarrassed to call them friends anymore, and finally a few final addenda where he half-apologizes for celebrating the extinction of humanity a little too quickly.
CG: I GUESS I COULD HAVE WAITED LONGER BEFORE REJOICING YOUR BONUS-ROUND TRANSFORMATION INTO NORMAL, CIVILIZED PEOPLE.
CG: THE "BOOYAH" WAS PROBABLY A LITTLE EXCESSIVE, TOO.
CG: SO, UH, SORRY FOR RUBBING THAT ONE IN.
That's as good as apologies get around Karkat. It's sort of endearing, in the sad sort of way that makes him want to laugh anyway. It's certainly something, which is more than can be said of John's and Jade's overeager, overexcited messages about their exploits and their adventures, of which they have apparently each had more than two in the last week, giving way to breathless endorsements of their new lives on Alternia. Terezi has a hard time containing her excitement, too; her enthusiasm somewhat steamrolls any consideration she might have had for the fact that Dave might be reeling, just a little bit, from losing not only his entire civilization but his humanity to boot.
GC: DO NOT WORRY D4V3
GC: 1 W1LL B3 D3L1GHT3D TO SCHOOLF33D YOU 1N TH3 H1PP1TY OF TH3 K1DS
GC: (TH4T 1S WH4T THOS3 OF US "1N TH3 LOOP" C4LL TH3 CULTUR4L H3Y-O JUST SO YOU KNOW)
GC: L1K3 YOU 4R3 4 D3M4ND1NG B4BY CH1RPB34ST 4ND 1 4M TH3 ON3 WHO DOL3S OUT PR1Z3 M34LWORMS
GC: BUT 1 4M V3RY G3N3ROUS!
GC: 4ND 1 W1LL 3NSUR3 TH4T YOU R3C31V3 ONLY TH3 JU1C13ST 4ND MOST D3L3CT4BL3 P1NK W1GGL3B34STS >:]
Dave can't will himself to answer an "encouragement" like that one with unabashed gratefulness, much though he understands the spirit in which it's meant. Of course, Terezi having all the social grace of a drunken ballerina doesn't help the matter, either. She doesn't—can't—understand that it isn't just what's practised, what's learned that will stop making him feel constantly on edge, but also what's forgotten. He's a mess of learned responses that have no meaning here and he can't make sense of any of the actions his body takes and the reactions it has without him. Dave is almost an observer to himself, unable to pull together a cohesive self to present to the world when he can't even figure out what the insistent rumbling in the back of his throat is for. And though Rose, John, and Jade do the best they can to support each other and share the most useful information they've learned in the last week from their patchwork sources, it's Karkat who answers Dave and patiently goes through all manner of cultural norms and mores, instructing him on the most basic customs and tenets of Alternian society.
CG: NO IT'S REALLY MORE OF A LINE YOU DON'T CROSS.
CG: NOT AS RUST, ANYWAY.
TG: hold up hang on jesus everyone and their goddamn grandma has been talking about rust this rust that
TG: no wait shit you dont even have grandmas fine whatever that alien space mom that lays all your eggs but through some sick time paradox i basically just pulled out of my ass all of you have one who occasionally says racist shit
TG: and she keeps going on about how everything was better before they let black people into the parks
TG: could you just like stop for one moment and actually explain what the hell rust even means
CG: RUST. LIKE, THE BLOOD COLOUR. THAT'S YOU, DAVE, YOU AND ARADIA ARE THE PROUD STANDARD-BEARERS OF THE MAROON HUE. IT'S LIKE THE UNIVERSE'S COSMIC "FUCK YOU" TO YOUR CONTINUED DAILY EXISTENCE, DISTILLED AND INJECTED INTO YOUR BLOODSTREAM SO IT CAN BE FUCKING INESCAPABLE. CONGRATULATIONS, BULGELORD, YOU JUST EARNED A ONE-WAY TICKET TO THE VERY BOTTOM OF ALTERNIA'S FOOD CHAIN.
TG: so im guessing i cant like
TG: clean up the rust a little bit take a scrubby pad to my veins
TG: chug some clr maybe
CG: STOP IT, DAVE. YOU'RE EMBARRASSING YOURSELF, YOU'RE EMBARRASSING ME, YOU'RE RETROACTIVELY EMBARRASSING ANYONE WHO HAS EVER SHARED YOUR BLOOD COLOUR.
CG: THE POOR ASSHOLES ARE RISING FROM THEIR SHALLOW, IGNOMINIOUS GRAVES AND REGAINING CONSCIOUSNESS JUST SO THEY CAN BE SO OVERWHELMED WITH EMBARRASSMENT BY PROXY THAT THEY CULL THEMSELVES FROM SHAME ALL OVER AGAIN.
CG: THIS IS YOUR LEGACY.
TG: ok ok i get it everyone is troll racist against me
TG: tell me karkat whats the good news
CG: THE GOOD NEWS IS YOU STILL WIN OUT OVER ME.
CG: HA HA, LET'S ALL SHARE A LAUGH OVER THE SINGULAR SOLACE YOU HAVE THAT WARDS YOU AGAINST BEING THE VERY LOWEST OF THE LOW, BECAUSE FUCKING SURPRISE, THE UNIVERSE CONSPIRES TO DENY ME EVEN THE ONE LUXURY OF EXISTING AT ALL ON THE SOCIAL TOTEM POLE.
CG: BUT ENOUGH ABOUT ME, LET'S GO BACK TO TRYING, IN VAIN, TO REMEDY YOUR COMICALLY AND WOEFULLY INADEQUATE UNDERSTANDING OF SOCIAL CUSTOMS AND BASIC KNOWLEDGE ON HOW NOT TO PERFORM THE EQUIVALENT OF PIROUETTING ACROBATICALLY AND ENTHUSIASTICALLY ONTO THE NEAREST CULLING FORK BULGE FIRST, YOU HAVE NO IDEA, THERE IS *NOTHING* I WOULD RATHER DO WITH MY PRECIOUS TIME.
Dave likes Karkat from the get-go. Karkat feigns a façade of unending, weary, resigned rage, and it's not too dissimilar from the practised patina of insincerity that Dave holds up as his shield. And that's something two Knights see in each other without much trouble, that they're just holding up shields to the danger in the world. They understand each other on this profound, visceral level, and when Dave turns in halfway through the night because he simply can't stomach hearing one more lesson on inane and overcomplicated troll terminology, Karkat is there to berate him. It's good-natured, though, and Dave can appreciate that too, that behind his shield Karkat is right there with him; he didn't sign up for any of this either, after all. And a troll, like any other, can get tired of the bullshit.
And even if it's not a very familiar kind of relationship, this weird half-baked anti-friendship based on mutually making fun of each other for their freakish faults, followed by a grudging ritualistic, pseudo-apologetic dance where the word "feelings" remains unuttered and entirely anathema to their very beings—well, it's not bad, either. It's nothing really resembling human camaraderie: even the most vitriolic, sardonic, barbed exchanges between Dave and Rose really can't compare to the best and most unguarded moments between him and Karkat, but he learns to appreciate it. It gives him an outlet and a source of information that isn't the regurgitated, clinical exposition that Lalonde sends him on an upsettingly frequent basis (can't he just have a fucking conversation with her, these days?) or the casually tone-deaf editorials of Terezi, who more than occasionally indulges in some strange roleplay that humanity never existed in the first place, and that Dave is making up the entire charade as some elaborate experiment in earnest, post-ironic performance art.
In short, without Karkat there to call him an idiot and share choice BitTrollent links, he'd be up the creek without a paddle, and now he at least has a shitty, beaten-up, second-hand oar to be able to manage the nasty-looking rapids staring him down on this planet. It does something to help stave off the boredom, too; Dave spends a lot of time wondering what trolls even do in their free time, without adults looking over their shoulder or sending them to school or really enforcing much of anything in the way of a social structure. And after his first few weeks on Alternia, his general impression is that this is kind of like an upside-down and backwards remixed Lord of the Flies, but instead of everyone getting together and engaging in acts of barbarism on the unlucky fat kid, most trolls seem content to live out their adolescences as solitary, psychotic hermits hell-bent on destroying each other one at a time, ignoring everyone else until their clock runs out.
It doesn't take Dave too long to notice that he's falling mostly into the same pattern, at least if he discounts the whole part about feeling erotically compelled to stick his bulge into some annoying asshole for the sake of completing some twisted fucking rite of passage (also, some fucking rite of passage). He doesn't really want to think about that part.
But it's enough to put a certain amount of strain on his relationships, when all of a sudden interactions that had once been as smooth as butter to maintain friendly and frequent start to feel strained and confrontational without significant effort on his part. His laid-back, amicable conversations with his (formerly) human friends are just memories now, and he struggles to resurrect the ghost of how they once were in the shadow of this strange, subliminal antipathy that seemed to permeate even their best attempts at rekindling the close kinship they held mere weeks ago.
John is the worst.
He's thrilled by the whole turn of events. Fine, Dave thinks, the asshole was always the kind of person willing and eager to look at the bright side of anything that happened, and that was good for him. He thinks being a space alien is the coolest shit that's ever happened in his entire life? More power to him. But that's not what really bothers Dave. He can't tell what it is, but something in John's personality just feels slightly off, just different enough to feel like a splinter in the back of his mind.
GT: dude, my house is a fortress.
GT: there's my whole house, and then under there's this totally badass castle just carved into a cliff! with caves and walls and everything.
GT: basically, you should pretty much stand in awe because my house is now officially the coolest house.
TG: man didnt anybody tell you thats troll racist
TG: you cant just go showing off your bling when there are people getting routinely fucked by the business end of paradox space
TG: im holed up in this top floor apartment with no elevator that is somehow shittier and tinier than the one i had in houston and judging from what i know about trolls chances are im literally living in some giant fucking bug or something
TG: im 80% sure my neighbour has some kind of gastrointestinal disorder and the other 20% chance is that hes been slowly rotting since the day i got here
TG: so lay off on the fucking fortune 500 braggadocio dont really need to hear about how im at the bottom of the shit heap
TG: have some fucking tact dude
GT: haha, fuck you.
GT: you're just jealous of my awesome castle. and i'm going to talk about it as much as i want.
GT: so if you're done being a huge idiot, i'm going to tell you about my FOUR game rooms!
TG: wtf
It's weird, it's wrong, it's not really anything John would ever say, but it's delivered with such trademark Egbert obstinacy and attitude that it couldn't be anyone else.
Dave shudders. When he talks to John, it's like that. Like someone's taken John and replaced him with this not-quite-false replica, too close for comfort but with every unfamiliar detail sticking out like cactus spines in all directions. It scares him, because it makes him wonder if he isn't the same way too, if he isn't Bizarro World Dave to all of his friends, and maybe that's why they're acting more standoffish, less gregarious, and less like friends to him. It would make sense, he realizes, and from the little he knows of trolls and their dangerous culture, he starts to wonder if that's what's happening, that all of them are crazy now, that that's just the way things have to be now that they're aliens.
But then he remembers Rose and Jade.
Rose seems to be doing her best to control the weird troll impulses, the anger, the emotional imbalances; he can tell that sometimes, she just has this pent-up fury she's unwilling to release. And she doesn't, because she remembers her humanity. Dave admires that, and he resolves to do the same. If he doesn't let himself be controlled by that part of his brain he really can't understand, the part that tells him to punch the walls until his knuckles are bleeding to the bone, until the anger pulsing in a section of his mind he doesn't think he's ever had before spills over and permeates everything, then he can keep hits sanity, in some way.
Jade, though, reminds him of humanity not through a transparent struggle to maintain it, but by the overwhelming tide of positive emotion that seems to fill every space she inhabits. Dave can tell that she's happy despite all the upheaval; of each of the four of them, Jade's daily routine and habits certainly have changed the least. Jade has already lived alone, guarded by only a strange animal companion; further, her isolation from the rest of humankind has cultivated a rare breed of self-sufficiency, one even Rose Lalonde, self-proclaimed pragmatist, cannot hope to match.
TG: so do you know what aradia told me the other day
TG: she said that because im on the bottom of the shit heap in this society chances are im rocking psychic type powers
TG: who know that was all you needed to get a leg up man i would totally have kicked my own ass out onto the street in order to get telekinesis
TG: no takeout pizza that would suck but who cares now im going to be like goddamn marty mcfly except the world is my fucking hoverboard
TG: watch out jaws 20 im going to pull an uncannybrutal manual off your tail and get all the air i could ever possibly want
TG: im going to have so much air theres probably going to be some troll government agency that gets notified because im taking all of the air out of the atmosphere and using it to fuel my kickass stuntman habits
TG: im sorry sir but the ministry of enviromurder has discovered that youve been using up more than your fair share
TG: because of the absolutely unreal amount of air youve caught the alternian empire has no choice but to officially classify you as a class b weather balloon
TG: thats me
TG: cosmic weather balloon
TG: cant catch me now im on fire
GG: cant catch you now huh???
GG: im sorry dave but that sounds suspiciously like......
GG: .........
GG: A CHALLENGE!!!!
TG: uh oh what have i done have i unleashed the beast
GG: all im saying is that i have a science lab
GG: just because you have psychic powers, dont think youre going to be the only one in the skies >:)
And that's Jade, undaunted, unafraid, and entirely unfazed by the change in the world around her. He's not sure whether to be relieved or terrified when he finds out, through Karkat, that she has already begun to rack up her own body count. Any concern, of course, that she might struggle with the forbidding environment is assuaged, but that doesn't mean he isn't more than a little unsettled by the idea of her killing for her own survival. He can understand it on an intellectual level—sure, he's heard the stories from Karkat, too—but it seems ludicrous and beyond his imagining that kids his age are stomping around trying to predate on one another.
What Karkat doesn't mention is the drones.
The first time it happens, it catches everyone by surprise.
Seven weeks into their new lives on Alternia, things aren't looking so bad. Of course, there are complications: the completely reasonable qualms about their new bodies, the changes in self-image, in eating habits, in sleep needs, in psychological states, in emotional control, and in the newfound art of socializing as a troll. Each, by part, serves to make their first steps as Alternians something of a jumble. But Dave has fallen in easily with Terezi, Karkat, Aradia, and Jade, and Rose, through some initial pangs of guilt, joins in, bringing Kanaya with her into this neonatal social circle, and all in all it becomes easy for them to forget, at least at times, how much upheaval has just occurred. Rose can only see a single facet of that equation, though. Dave, meanwhile, is schooled rigorously by fellow lowbloods on the art of mingling in the crowd, on blending in, on drawing attention away from oneself, and—most importantly—the delicate craft of not getting killed. To say that he actively rejects the advice would be uncharitable; he certainly listens, nods in the right places, and learns intellectually how one stays safe in a society that hates those who do not ‘respect their place’ on the rigidly stratified social echelons put in place eons ago by the same ruler who now holds the throne.
But Dave, Earth-human-teenager that he is, having never experienced the wrath of a hemoist society at its worst, cannot so quickly learn that the practised cocky comportment ingrained in him by the Strider ethic is anathema on this planet. So when he takes his first transport shuttle to Rose’s hive, head cocked just a little too high, his adolescent horns standing tall and outsized against him, the guard drone at the door decides to show this snot-nosed little punk a lesson. Dave’s taken off-guard, but he’s proficient with a sword, a martial art exercised first under the skylight of Houston now keeping him alive on Alternia. Within a few moments, he's drawn the blade and is thrusting it skyward to meet the drone's first strike. He deflects the blow from the drone, dashing out with a youth roll, eyes bewildered from the shock and, to be quite honest, a little terrified by the easily nine-foot-tall drone bearing down on him with alarming speed.
He’s a good distance away from the transport by now, and running towards his original destination, the seaside acropolis where Rose resides. But the drone is out for blood now, and does not appear to want to rest until he’s apprehended and dismembered the little shit that disrespected him.
It’s as this point that Rose, observing from her window, takes note of the dark figure looming over her lawnring, and sees Dave on the run from the insectoid monster. And in that moment, Rose’s eyes are violet fire, her hands snapping out with needles drawn from her sylladex, the tips glowing blistering white, and within ten seconds Rose is there, in the heat of the battle, firing a wicked lance of concentrated light at the drone, halting its forward progress, and preventing it from landing an otherwise crippling blow to her brother.
In another ten seconds, Rose cuts her distance to the great carapaced thing in half, and then in quarters, and with a speed and ferocity even Rose herself does not know she has in her she rams her horns into the tender junction of the drone’s thorax to the very hilt, the long sunburst spires drawing out hellion incarnate, a sickening sludge of black blood erupting from the middle of its torso.
In another ten seconds, the drone is bleeding out. Rose unsheathes her horns from the deep wounds, one hand pushing back her matted hair and pulling away a clump of black coagulate. Her eyes snap automatically to Dave, nursing a relatively deep cut on his arm. It poses no grave danger, she surmises, but it would certainly leave a scar to remember.
In another ten seconds, Rose is by his side, Thorns stowed once again, hand around his shoulder, speechless but speaking volumes. They sit there for a good ten minutes, shaking against each other in their embrace, and from that comfort rises a horrific dread in their stomachs at what the future would bring.
That feeling, she knows, will never leave them.