campkilkare: (Default)
T. Oso ([personal profile] campkilkare) wrote2011-01-09 04:28 pm

Eh what the hell


Memories of the trial tend to be formative yet difficult to retrieve; buried and deeply private. By all accounts, Equius's trial had been a glorious thing; he had acquitted himself admirably, showing more strength and raw trollgrit than any hatchling in history. Yet for some reason, it remained a sore subject...

"Help me with him."

"What are you doing?"

"What the fuck does it look like I'm doing with him?" He stumbles on legs he's not used to and tries to get the other troll's arm over his shoulders; he doesn't resist but he's not helping either. Purple blood trickles down his face and from scratches on his chest.

The third troll watches the two other moltlings anxiously. "I don't think we're supposed to..."

"Fuck you and fuck supposed to!" The nubby-horned troll wobbles under the slack weight of the other. "I know you're strong enough to help, you punched that goddamn thing into paste, so pick this shithead up and let's GO!"

"I didn't mean..." The third troll looks at his fist, blue blood seeping through scratches, then at the ruined manticore still twitching against the far cavern wall. "I'm not... one hundred percent certain..."


"He's meant to be our superior, isn't he? He has... the highest possible blood, without spilling into the dreadful seadwellers. But he's not..."

Nubby-horns grits his fangs and takes a few more steps; his new limbs are getting stronger all the time. The highblood stirs, almost spilling them both over, and giggles to himself. "HOW ARE YOU SO MOTHERFUCKING HEAVY?" The blueblood wrings his (STRONG) hands and follows along, but still doesn't help.

"And he just... stood there and let that magnificent beast ravage him..."

"Yeah..." Nubby-horns grunts, prompting another wave of giggles.

"...mOtHeRfUcKiNg HeAvY, bRoThEr."

Rolled eyes. "I think... I think there was something wrong with what they were schoolfeeding him. Something wrong with the expositional pap. Maybe they were trying to poison him..."

The blueblood nods vigorously. "My own education informed me that such intrigue is common amongst the highest bloodlines."

The cranky guy tries to shrug, which is a bad idea. "Yeah, I don't know, I didn't waste much time lapping up that hemospectrum--" And the highblood slips off and flops into the dirt. "GOD, YOU'RE SO FUCKING USELESS. I HATE YOU." He pounds the heels of his hands against his forehead.

"...sorry... msorry, don't hAtE me bRo... hahahaHaHaHa..."

"In retrospect I'm sure it was an ominous sign that that filial drone had such a curiously painted visage..."

"Yeah, okay, so he's fucking poisoned, you solved the goddamn mystery, now will you HELP ME?"

"," says the blueblood, wring his hands again. "These are the... trials, don't you see? We must stand or fall alone on our own. Particularly one of the noble blood, or how else can he dare call himself our superior?"

The cranky guy stares at him. "You fucker."

"It is... tradition..."

"He's our FRIEND! We already lost some of them in here, we can't just leave him--"

"If you had been properly fed you would understand... friendship is an abberation, a weakness..."

"FRIENDSHIP ISN'T A WEAKNESS, DUMBASS. IT'S A--IT"S... " The cranky guy balls up his fists, useless as it would be against the blueblood's strength. "Just get out of here."

"He is... a mutant. A freak." Both of them wince at that, not meeting each others' eyes. "He can never live as he is should. We must leave him. It is for the good of the race. Of the blood."

"The BLOOD? THE BLOOD? DON'T FUCKING TALK TO ME ABOUT BLOOD!" He waves a finger in the blueblood's face, and in the face of that rage he takes a step back. "COWARD! TRAITOR! IF YOU'RE GOING TO GO THEN GO! NO ONE AND NOTHING NEEDS YOU."

"You... you will not speak to me so..." he quavers. "I am of noble lineage, the inheritor of--"

"OF SHIT! OF FUCK-ALL! OF GARBAGE! JUST GO, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" The blueblood cracks his knuckles, wrestling with his anger and shame, and bolts into the caverns without looking, going deeper and deeper into the depths, meeting stronger and stronger monsters... and nothing more dangerous than himself. "WEAK! SO FUCKING WEAK!"

He's honored, of course, to be chosen by such a noble lusus. Aurthour bandages his broken horn and other wounds before they go in to plan his hive, and so he's there when they emerge, the cranky guy and the highblood. The noble ambulatory but still terminally confused, staggering and giggling cross-eyed at the world, singing to himself and his champion; his friend dripping his freakish mutant blood, the lowest of the low, howling in incoherent fury until he realizes there aren't any more beasts. He expects an insult, a fresh wave of rage, but they stagger past him, the highest and the lowest; like he's nothing at all.

Karkat chose to remain close-mouthed about his trial, as well, but of course that was nothing surprising coming from him. And Gamzee attributed his survival to the usual... and in truth, no one could think of a better explanation than a miracle.

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